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emberfrostlovesloki · 9 months ago

Text

The Cherry on Top [Hotch x Reader]

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

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

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

Category: angst/smutt

Word Count: 16.7K

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

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

List with all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_y/c/e_’s = your color eyes

_c/t_ = coffee or tea

_y/c/e_ = your color eyes

_y/l/n_ = your last name

_y/h/t_ = your hair type

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Text Break Banners by @cafekitsune

Tag List: @geminitapestry

Want to be added to my tag list? Please see this post, CM Tag List (linked)

Want to request a fic or mood board? My requests are open. Please see this post before requesting, CM Request Post (linked)

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absolutebl · 2 years ago

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Ai’ with Aye & Akk - The Eclipse & Thai honorifics

hazmatilda asked: (and tumblr ate it so I’m reposting)

So I went down quite a rabbit hole with your bl linguistics Tag (thanks for that, 3 hours of reading when I should have been sleeping or working on my masters thesis for Wednesday :/ ), and I am riveted. I started watching Thai BLs with bad buddy when it was airing, and have watched most of the ones that have aired since then and now working on the backlog. I love linguistics, and have been noticing the different personal pronouns etc in Thai especially, so it was really cool to see that all laid out in your posts! The third person one is particular is quite special to me, and I wish it existed more in English and German. It's very frustrating being a genderqueer person living in Germany because non gendered pronouns don't really exist, and when they do it's quite niche and hard to get others to use :/

I couldn't agree more. I've grown to have real affection and love for Thailand's pronouns.

I also adore the way in many Asian languages we can just say our own name for the "I" pronoun. So much harder to forget someone's name and ALSO you're consistently reminded of what it is and how it shoudl be pronounced.

Just so you don't have to deal with my terrible (and hugely erratic) tagging system, I do have a language post meta guide (master post round up) just in case you want to rabbit hole some more:

BL Language & Culture Master Post (mostly Thai)

Back to your question...

Anyway, my question is, I noticed in The Eclipse the Ai' prefix (particle?) used between the boys, which you mentioned is not really used in BLs often, and I wanted your more detailed take on the way that Akk changes in his address of Aye in this regard, especially over the last couple of episodes. Is he being particularly rude?

Ai is an honorific originally used between peer/age mates/equals. (Like Phi or Nong.)

But now, depending on the stress/emphasis it carries different connotations including affection (Akk & Aye), insult (Ae & Pond in Love By Chance), annoyance/exasperation (Leo in Don't Say No), or pleading/whining (Fiat in Don't Say No).

Is he being particularly rude?

Yes but also, no. He's being... rudely affectionate? He's changing the boundaries of their relationship with, what amounts to, what I'd call an “insult honorific or mode of address.” (Common within peer groups, particularly marginalized ones. See gay & masculine identified use of "bitch" in late 90s early 2000s queer culture, particularly in North American coastal cities.)

So amongst some of my queer friends, regardless of gender or orientation someone will often yell, "Hey Biiitchesss!" Technically an insulting term, in this context, a friends honorific among peers and a way of identifying oneself and ones friends as different from the surrounding social morays.

Back to Ai'.

It seems mostly used for relationship emphasis these days (friendly intimacy, of a jocular/teasing nature), and almost always among peers. I think of it occasionally as an insult honorific.

In California the word "dude" is often used for this. "Seriously, dude!?" when someone cuts you off on the FWY. "Hey, Dude" to a friend you meet for lunch. "Awe, Dude, that's rough" affection/sympathy. And so forth.

I haven't watched Eclipse in a while so I can't speak to the bit your actually referring to. So there may be an additional use pattern in play, but Ai is an interesting honorific, in that it's one of those that isn’t always, or even often, entirely honoring. So to speak.

I do talk about Ai quite a bit in this post:

Why Ai'Hia was so funny in Cutie Pie

Never let me go also seems to be playing with the formality a lot, due to the class differences, which is cool to see. I'm sure the changing register and formality will play into PalmNuengs speech as the show progresses hehe.

Sorry for the ramble! 🧡🧡🧡

No apologies for rambling needed here, since I’m ruler of rambletown.

Yes it’s very very fun to see. You also get this a little with RainPhayu in Oh My Sunshine night (young high class seme + older servant uke), and a TON with Ae & Pete in Love By Chance.

If you haven’t watched it, I would highly recommend that one. Pete talks almsot entirely in high formal register and Ae in low. It’s a great way to train your ear for the two different registers. There’s no spoiled prince dynamic, so it’s an entirely different play on a class difference than NLMG. They are one of my all time favorite pairs for many reasons. Language is one.

All the best and I hope you keep enjoying yourself with BL and the linguistics!

(source)

#asked and answered #thai BL #thai language #thai linguistics #Never Let Me Go #The Eclipse #AkkAye #AyeAkk #Love By Chance #AePete #cutie pie the series

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proudfreakmetarusonikku · 3 months ago

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Its your tumblr man. talk about nova if you want!

I don’t have the time to explain the entirety of the shadow the hedgehog arc but it’s eating my brain like. he and shadow are both created beings who feel aimless and confused but nova knows why he was created while shadow doesn't. and bc nova is metal sonic he knows shadow's past so he kind of ends up becoming a mentor to him bc he relates (though he’s a manipulative amoral shit so he is not upfront about anything, except that shadow is not a robot bc that gives him an excuse to kick him as hard as possible and then gloat about how if he were truly a robot he wouldn’t be able to feel the pain and therefore he’s inferior). neither of them know what morality is and they stumble through most of the haphazard plot points in one way or another trying to figure it out. he flat out just ditches shadow when black doom shows up for last story bc he fundamentally cares more about defeating sonic than literally everything else and if sonic is eaten alive he can’t do that so he saves his life. he accidentally ends up in a qpr with him bc sonic (not entirely incorrectly) assumes that “i will keep you safe until you have reached your full potential and i have mine, then i will prove my superiority and kill you and relish in it, but until then i feel satisfied in existing around you and i will continue on your legacy after i kill you” is essentially the closest thing he can get to a confession and being both very aroace and an adrenaline junkie sees “close friendship until one of us kills the other” as way more fun than, like, anything anyone sensible would consider a qpr. he adopts a chao. when he realises trans people exist he immediately goes “okay. i will beat everyone at every gender” and starts using any/all pronouns bc they should rightly belong to him. she goes to therapy.

06 isnt entirely planned but i do know how it ends (mephiles killing sonic was the exact best way to piss off nova and bc he is metal sonic's sonic oc rp character and he has all the power he has in heroes and more solaris fucking dies painfully. also they absorb his power which would be terrifying if they were still trying to conquer the world but instead they’re using their irl amino rp to cope with their issues marginally better) and unleashed onwards is mostly just a collection of ideas. the main plots still happen bc like, nova does like larping as a organic normal hedgehog but he fundamentally views the world through the lens of his ultimate showdown with sonic and proving his superiority being the only thing that matters and he Wants sonic to go through adversity to grow stronger as he also grows stronger by. mostly just pirating the dna of various gods honestly. but she also will Not tolerate anyone killing sonic but herself (and in general will Not tolerate anyone killing sonics friends or her father bc she considers them + sonic the only tolerable organics even if she considers everyone but sonic as inferior to herself) so. forces is fun. and also there’s a reason for the metal sonic illusion to be a thing (bc metal left the nest and is pretty apathetic to the whole “taking over the world” thing outside of it letting it commit grievous bodily harm)

there’s originally a much starker divide between nova (as metal sonics own deviantart recolour) and neo metal sonic as himself but by the time sonic and friends know who he is and don’t immediately reject him for that or the inherent fact he's got a very different and oftentimes confusing mindset and way of thinking than them he's very casual at slipping between the two and uses both names interchangeably. he generally prefers his organic disguise, bc he can go outside with it, but uses his original voice (which is monotone sonic with electronic distortion) and usually turns off the systems he made so he automatically moves and emotes in a more natural manner bc he finds emulating stuff like breathing or crying uncomfortable and disgusting even if he’s able to tolerate looking organic.

#for those of you who don’t know the nova au is basically neo metal sonic makes his own sonic oc #and instead of doing sonic heroes he infiltrates sonic and his friends by doing oc roleplay after shapeshifting into them #he is. not good at it but he’s not good at it in a way that made everyone assume he was just kinda a sheltered kid and not a tiny t1000 #they were obviously pissed when they found out hence why he was spending time with shadow and not spending 24/7 with sonic #and yeah. the qpr metonic in this is not healthy but that is the point theyre fucked up mentally ill teenagers who have Unique world views #like they’re both 14-15 during this time they’re Not responsible adults. I mean even if nova matures she kinda is stuck with the whole #being inherently driven to hurt and kill the one person she considers an equal thing. bc it’s in every line of her code.#she doesn’t have to like it tho she becomes less of a brat (though still very full of herself)

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writteninlunarlight-years · 7 months ago

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Hi, I would like to request a Harry Potter, Golden Era, matchup, if that’s alright.

Name: Abigail S.

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual (though at the moment I prefer girls more)

MBTI: ISFJ

Appearance: 5’6”, medium, fine, dirty blonde hair. Freckles that run over my nose from cheek to cheek. I’m more pale and have a bigger but muscular body. My style of clothing consists more of hoodies, shorts, t-shirts and that kind of thing.

Personality: I’m more of the quiet type when it comes to new people but when I’m around friends that’s a whole other story. If someone did mess with my friends or family I wouldn’t hesitate to protect and defend them if needed. I always like to put my friends before myself, which I can see how that leads to a bit of an issue. I can also tend to be a bit sensitive at times, (but let’s be real, who hasn’t). I like to consider myself a perfectionist and I like things to be organized and tidy. My Zodiac Sign is Virgo.

Likes: I love to read and write, especially romance and fantasy, my favorite genres. I LOVE animation, I deeply admire all the work and effort that goes into it. I prefer it over life actions shows( my favorites are RWBY, Owl House, and Bluey). I love to play the violin and play video games.

Dislikes: I hate egotistical people, they just annoy me so much. Also, food smackers, I’ve lived through years of it. Lastly, I hate it when people assume about me.(Example is if they say I like something but I actually hate it).

I also really like how you do long requests, all others that I’ve seen are really short and are only three bullets. So, I wouldn’t mind if you wrote to your hearts content. In my opinion, the longer the better!

Anyways, thank you and have a good day/night!

~~~~~MATCH UP ~~~~~

Friend, I match you with the one and only ------

Ginny Weasley!!!

This choice was because the whole time I read your request, I was torn between Hermione and Ginny. I really sat on it and bounced back and forth for a while. Then I reread the following: "If someone did mess with my friends or family, I wouldn't hesitate to protect and defend them if needed. I always like to put my friends before myself, and I can see how that leads to a bit of an issue. I can also tend to be a bit sensitive." I knew Ginny was the winner.

~~~~~HEADCANONS~~~~~

Being the only girl in her family besides her mom, Ginny definitely doesn't care if you dress up or dress down. You are gorgeous no matter what.

Ginny would custom pick the colors for your jumper her mom makes.

Ginny also prefers to be quiet; being the little sister to the wild twins and the heroic brother, she is known to be a bit overshadowed.

When Ginny gets close to people, though, she is just as rambunctious as her siblings. She will rope you into all sorts of mischief during your years at Hogwarts together.

Ginny is also loyal to a fault; she is willing to bravely stand up to anyone who comes at her family wrong. She also didn't care what tabloids or papers said about Harry. Nor did she care about the big mark on her back as Ron's younger sister during her sixth year.

Just as she protects her friends and family, she is fiercely protective of you. Anyone who dares to mess with you will have another thing coming. (She would probably use one of her brother's joke products to prank them)

Ginny is your Ying to your Yang when it comes to cleanliness. Now, by no means is Ginny a slob, but she definitely learned to live in organized chaos with all her brothers.

She does make it an extra habit, though, that if you are coming to visit her dorm, she picks everything up nicely.

Ginny could listen to you play your violin for hours; she's so used to the magic-enchanted ones that it never dawned on her until she met you how beautiful people playing is.

Ginny loves to hide in the library or astronomy tower with you, reading books and talking about all the romantic tropes you two are in or not in. (definitely write in the margins of her books when you talk about something you would like happening to you)

~~~~~BLURB~~~~~

You and Ginny sat atop the Astronomy tower, eating your fruit basket while reading your romance novels, which you had nicked from Hermoines's trunk. She always had the best romance novels since they were written by muggles who knew nothing of love potions or luck potions. Turning the page of your book gently, Ginny set her book down softly, looking at you lovingly. As you read a specific line of your book, your eyes widened, and your face blushed. You have just gotten to the scene where the book guy leans on the door frame.

Ginny, noticing your face growing warm, speaks up, "Abigail, what seems to be the matter? Find a new romance trope you would like to give a shot?" Eagerly awaiting your answer, Ginny pulled out her quill, ready to write down what you would like her to do for you on some parchment. A devious plan formed in your head as you looked up at the female. Who said this specific trope had to wait till later? Smiling gently, you spoke, "Love, would you go stand in that doorway for me?" Looking at you, genuinely confused, Ginny stood up and walked to the door you had nodded at. Standing in her disheveled uniform, waiting for her following instructions, she looked cute following commands so willingly.

"Okay, now I need you to put your left arm above your head, bend it slightly, and lean kinda sideways on the door." You spoke enthusiastically. However, as the scene before you unfolded, you couldn't hold back the giggles. How could one human look so ungodly uncomfortable? "Merlin beard, Abigail, this is killer on my stomach. How much longer do you want me to do this?" Trying to contain your laughter, you stood up and approached the poor girl. You relieved her of her duty, leaning on the door and showing her what you meant. Ginny eyed you up and down admiringly. She leaned in gently and kissed you on the lips before pulling away. "Now I understand, love; you wanted me to do that thing the guys do in the books." Nodding your head gently, you leaned back in and captured Ginny's lips in another kiss.

You two got back to your books. However, as your mind wandered back to Ginny's horrid attempt, you couldn't help but start laughing, causing a book to be thrown at your head.

~~~~~EXTRA~~~~~

(Molly sits in her home knitting a jumper for one of her kids; across from her, Ginny sits attempting to knit.)

Molly: No, no, dear, you have to do it like this. (Molly demonstrates the method again to Ginny)

Ginny: Mother, there is no way this should be that hard. You make like twelve of these a year. How come I cannot figure it out?

~~~Back at school after break~~~

Fred: Abigail, you won't believe the most horrendous gift Ginny has for you.

George: Seriously, she spent all break on it, and it's worse than Mum.

Abigail: Boys, be nice to Ginny. I will love anything she gives me.

(Ginny rushes up to her girlfriend and hugs her close.)

Ginny: Abigail, look, I made your jumper this year! (hands the poorly misshapen and uneven jumper to you.)

Abigail: (turns and whispers to Fred and George) Please tell me your mum made me a different one.

(Molly did make you a different one, yet somehow you always found yourself wearing the one Ginny made you see that beautiful smile)

I hope you liked it, friend! Thank you for your request!

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #ginny weasley #weasley x reader #fred weasley #george weasley #molly weasley #match up #golden era hp #head canon #headcanon #red head

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rot10fruits · 2 years ago

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please dont be an asshole or a hater on my blog especially racists and anti-lgbtq, please fuck off

[also under 16 tread lightly / mostly dni cuz i talk about wild shit sometimes. plus my fave shows are rated tv-14]

this is my "stuff" blog. just everything i like that i also want to keep aside from my other more focused blogs.

i'm 18. i use she/her pronouns. i am bisexual. i have a masc nb partner of 5 years who is the light of my life. i am mixed white and ojibwe/odawa. i live in the very top of the pnw and love that fresh air. i am autistic and suffer from agoraphobia.

please follow me if u don't meet any of the prior criteria and are into this stuff :

american dad, king of the hill, futurama, bobs burgers, rick and morty, family guy, the simpsons, south park, dan vs., aqua teen hunger force, smiling friends, xavier renegade angel, my name is earl, trailer park boys, it's always sunny in philadelphia, seinfeld

[i do not partake in discourse about any media, my favorite shows can regularly make fun of marginalized groups or concepts and while i understand how harmful it can be and that it will make people uncomfortable - i am also part of some of those marginalized groups and i can still find the humor and/or ignorance within it. i see no reason to police the things that other people watch on tv]

[i take adult animation very seriously, i am deeply attached to american dad (and king of the hill/ family guy but to lesser degrees) and have been since childhood. it is my main special interest. i rewatch episodes literally every day of my life and have for about 4 years. i am in the process of writing my own fan episodes. my favorite characters are haley and roger, but i love the whole smith family.]

my little pony g4, adventure time, amazing world of gumball, craig of the creek, total drama, teen titans and teen titans go, chowder, regular show, victorious, icarly, the garfield show, most pokémon shows

aggretsuko, panty and stocking, mob psycho 100, one punch man, dr. stone. (i was a major anime and manga fan in 2014-2016 - blue exorcist, soul eater, the devil is a part timer, free!, ouran high school host club, food wars, sword art online, fruits basket, tokyo mew mew just to name a few). i have recently gotten into the precure series, with my favorites being tropical rouge, delicious party, and kirakira a la mode.

shopkins, squishmallows, tokidoki, rainbow high dolls , num noms (r.i.p) and other random cute toys and plush

casual to gourmet cooking / gastronomy (big fan of sweets of all kinds)

vampires (i am also a sanguinarian vampire and focus more on that at my blog @sanguinep0wer), gothic literature, gothic fashion genres, gothic horror, kawaii culture, visual kei

the sims 4, world of warcraft, tf2, minecraft, stardew valley, am overwatch 1 veteran, indie horror games. used to be into comic books but only DC (teen titans were my fave)

goth music aka darkwave, post punk, gothic/doom metal. also into numetal, experimental, and spooky sounding electro pop. (aural vampire, the cure, tiamat, to/die/for, cradle of filth, sisters of mercy , insane clown posse, aphex twin etc) some breakcore, and mid to late 2000's rap/pop music, sometimes nightcore'd. (akon, eminem, britney spears, rihanna, etc). i also used to be really really into vocaloid, i am still but much less so. my music taste is kinda all over the place honestly but i like what i like

i am interested in spirituality, specifically law of attraction and manifestation. i also am kinda starting to get back into ritual "witchcraft" worship of Dionysus but im trying to get as close to original/proper sources as possible before officially starting

i am also super into art specifically abstract and surrealism / dreamlike paintings, i use both dark harsh colors and softer pastel colors depending on what i'm trying to convey. i am planning a large project for april or may this year

[if i use improper terminology when talking about my interests pls be kind i am incredibly socially awkward and really don't get the chance to interact with fellow interest community members so i may not be up to date on everything. i am always looking for more friends! thank u for reading this far :) ]

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aspenforest732 · 11 months ago

Text

Mortem ad Wrens: Chapter 23 Can We Live with the Knowledge

Summary:

tw: human trafficking, blood

Notes:

‘text’ JSL Text thoughts

Half an hour before their study session, Akira was surprised to see Bakugo, Kirishima, and Kaminari already at the table as they walked in.

“Honey, someone left a note for you,” Hisano, one of the librarians, said as they signed in the group. “He said something about fire?”

Akira nodded, thanking the lady as they slipped the note into their jacket pocket. ‘You’re early.’

“Yeah! We wanted to check if we could join your study group,” Kirishima beamed at them.

‘Sure, just try to limit your pops, Murder God,’ Akira shrugged. ‘Hisano and Hotaru don’t mind noise since we’re technically an after-school program, but explosion- and fire-based quirks are discouraged. If you need something to keep your sweat from building up, they have towels at the desk.’

Bakugo looked about to protest, but at a soft hand on his arm from Kirishima, he snapped his mouth shut and took their suggestion.

‘I’m assuming you’re the one who needs help between you and Murder God?’ Akira asked Kirishima after Bakugo came back.

He chuckled and said, “Yeah, he’s been helping me with Math, and when we talked with Kamibro, explaining some of it helped me learn, you know?”

Akira nodded thoughtfully. ‘If your system has already been working, I’d suggest continuing with it and adding explanations if you or Electric Rat get stuck. I usually spend the first two hours working with Raven and Dark Shadow on English after setting Electric Rat up with visual aids. Murder God, is there anything we can help you with or do you want to take over helping with math?’

“I don’t need any fucking help,” Bakugo snapped, curling in a bit.

Akira blinked, remembering why they usually didn’t bother. Wait, isn’t that like…they startled at the realization. ‘I struggle with History, personally. The dates and order of events always get mixed up in my head. I don’t sleep much, so I usually wait till the evening to study. I’m pretty sure everyone has something they’re not good at. Like how All Might is learning to teach.’

Some of the tension bled out of Bakugo’s shoulders as he grumbled, “Nicknames are easier than names.”

Akira offered a lopsided grin, ‘Sounds like a good match, then. If you don’t mind helping either Math or English for the first half, we can quiz each other on History the second half.’

The rest of the session went pretty smoothly, Bakugo only popping a few times in frustration and using the rag to keep down the size. The blonde’s excessive use of nicknames was starting to make sense as he barely recognized most of the names Akira threw at him. They were surprised Bakugo remembered their name, but they made a breakthrough realizing it was the sign that stuck with him. By the end of the session, Akira’s world map room was even marginally more organized.

Excusing themself a few minutes before Aizawa picked them up, Akira slipped into the bathroom and checked the note. Their breath caught at the list of names and pronouns: Sensei, Tomura Shigaraki, Kurogiri, Dabi, Himiko Toga, Spinner, Twice, Mr. Compress, Mustard. Recruiting on Stain. Trial run August.

That night, a bad feeling settled in their gut as Mortis watched the drugs be exchanged. Nothing in particular seemed off, Eraser Head not even stopping by to check on them. As they watched the gang for tails, though, they caught sight of two people stumbling while running through a nearby alleyway. Silently roof hopping closer, Mortis tagged them as emaciated, filthy, and… their eyes widened as they spotted bloody wrists. Mortis practically flew over the roofs in the direction they came from, warping a few times as their legs buckled, but didn’t spot anyone. Still not seeing Eraser Head, they made their way back to where the people were headed.

Mortis warped down, dispelling their clone as one of them collapsed against the side of a building. ‘Woah there, I’m not here to hurt you,’ Mortis signed as the standing person brandished a pipe. ‘Do you know JSL?’

“Wh-who are you?” pipe person asked.

‘Someone who wants to help,’ Mortis signed slowly. ‘You two look pretty badly hurt, and I know those wounds. Would you rather I call a hero?’

The one on the ground nodded while pipe person looked conflicted. “Which one?”

‘Eraser Head is nearby; I can ping him my location. What are your names?’ At pipe person’s nod, they pinged him their location with Injury: Other (Civilian).

“I’m Kawa Ikeda, and this is June Seymour,” pipe person, now Ikeda, said. She frantically started looking around. “Did you see anyone? I- I don’t know if we were followed.”

Mortis shook their head, ‘I checked back the way you came before coming down. Eraser Head should be here in a few… there he is.’ Mortis pointed out the hero darting down a fire escape across the street and quickly caught him up, adding, ‘Pretty sure trafficking is involved. Please keep me apprised, as we’ll be keeping an eye out as well.’

Back at base, Mortis checked in with Boss.

“You’re usually back sooner, run into a problem?”

‘You could say that,’ Mortis huffed and adjusted the cold compresses on their legs. ‘We’ve got another human trafficking ring. Eraser said he’ll keep us updated, but everyone should be aware.’

“Alright, I’ll round up another meeting. Anything else?”

Mortis passed the note Dabi had left for them. ‘Wildfire passed this along. Also, Eraser is working on the Todoroki abuse case now.’

Boss peered up at them for a long moment before nodding. “Glad you two are getting along, kid. You could use more people on your side with what you have planned.”

As Akira set aside History prep to take a break with English, they picked up Yamada’s humming drifting closer from the kitchen. Akira shifted their papers together, condensing their space on the coffee table for him.

“Oh, you’re studying English?” Yamada asked, eyes lighting up. He sat in the chair at the other end of the table but looked curiously over the study guide. Yamada set down a cup of his usual tea, kabuecha, beside his tablet.

Akira nodded with some hesitation, gradually getting used to the voice hero’s proximity. ‘It’s a good break from History.’

“Well, let me know if you need any help,” Yamada said brightly. “I’m just going over this week’s programming for my show.”

A few minutes later, Akira’s gaze flicked towards Yamada at a movement. He set his hearing aids in a charging case. They’d seen him do this several times over the course of their stay, but Akira was suddenly struck by a thought. ‘Loud Cockatoo?’ they hesitantly signed. The hero looked up with a smile. ‘Japanese has JSL. Does English have a different sign language? At base, its fingerspelling would be different.’

Yamada looked surprised then grinned, ‘It sure does, little listener! It’s called American Sign Language, or ASL. England, Ireland, Wales, and Scotland also have British Sign Language from when they were classified as the United Kingdom. We still have the ASL textbook Sleepy Cat started with if you want to learn.’

Akira nodded, curiosity seeping into their eyes. ‘They separated in 2050, right?’

‘2054, but that was close. Also, back then Ireland was split with only Northern Ireland being part of the UK,’ Yamada flashed a bright smile. He returned after a few minutes with a thick book titled “Introduction to American Sign Language” and set it down halfway down the coffee table. ‘We have a bit of a tradition for people who start learning with it to write their name on the title page, but don’t feel obligated if you don’t want to.’

Inside, Akira found the signature of Aizawa, Oboro, Kayama, and Ida. They cocked their head at the second name, not sure if they should ask. When Yamada saw what made them pause, he gave a sad smile. ‘Loud Cloud was a dear friend of ours. We lost him during our debut in second year.’

Akira nodded reverently, ‘It’s terrible to lose someone that young.’ They added their name to the list and started looking through the basics, copying the gestures as best they could with the occasional correction from Yamada.

The first three days of exams were all the written portion, and Akira felt pretty confident they didn’t fail anything. Even History was at worst a C, which should put them solidly in the running for the summer training camp. Kaminari was definitely worse for wear by the end, but their study sessions and apparent IEP were paying off as he at least got to all the questions.

The day of the practical, all the first-year teachers met them in U.A.’s central plaza. “I expect that you all have gathered information ahead of time and have some idea of what you will be doing.”

“We’re fighting you teachers, right?” Kaminari asked nervously.

“That’s right!” Nezu called as he wriggled out of Aizawa’s scarf. “For various reasons, the exam will be different starting this year…”

Akira met Koda’s smile as their suspicions were confirmed with the formatting. As they’d hoped, Akira was paired against Midnight, although Sero for a partner was a surprise. They barely interacted with him unless sparring, his outgoing personality a little much for Akira.

‘Test it first,’ Mortis signed as they headed to their zone, motioning for Cellophane to apply tape. ‘Need to check for the day.’ While their heart skipped a beat with Cellophane’s proximity, Mortis nodded after a moment and ripped the tape off their nose and mouth. ‘Tape’s fine, we’ll go with that strategy.’

While Cellophane couldn’t hold his breath as long as Mortis, he was primarily a ranged fighter anyways. The moment the test started, they flung themselves into a sprint away from Midnight as Cellophane quickly applied the tape. Mortis circled back around opposite Cellophane, curiosity thrumming as they watched Somnambulist crawl across the ground.

Deftly warping at the crack of a whip, Mortis kept the capture side of their cuffs in their palm. Mortis darted forward as Midnight’s whip cracked in the opposite direction, only to roll to the side as Midnight released a fresh wave of her quirk. Hitting their halfway mark for air, Mortis warped out of the building gas to take a quick breath, checking with Cellophane, who was a few meters away keeping Midnight’s attention.

Removing the tape, Mortis warped forward while directing their clone to approach Cellophane. A whip cracked out, dispelling it with an amused look from Midnight. “Come now, kittens, why don’t you stop messing around? You must be running out of air soon, Cellophane, and your little friend is around here somewhere.”

Good, her awareness doesn’t extend with her quirk. Mortis warped and directed their clone to carefully slump over. The force would normally be enough to dispel it, but Mina had suggested stage falls as a way to control their descent. Midnight grinned and approached their clone, crouching to check them as Mortis snuck up behind her. In a flash, the cuff clipped around Midnight’s wrist, and the buzzer sounded.

As the hero’s quirk dispersed, Mortis took a small breath of it. ‘Smells nice, like chocolate.’

“That was clever, kittens. How are you feeling?” Midnight asked, letting Mortis take the cuff off before giving them some space.

‘Nothing new, just a little drowsy. I’m glad our theory worked.’

“Yeah! Since you’re nonbinary and… what was it again?” Cellophane asked with a grin.

‘Aro ace. I think the combination of the two made Somnambulist less effective since Lesbians seem as affected as most men.’

Midnight nodded with a smile, “I haven’t run into many nonbinary opponents, and people who aren’t attracted to women aren’t immune but don’t go down as fast.”

Kirishima, Sato, Mina, and Kaminari still failed the practical, but Akira wasn’t sure how any student was supposed to defeat the principal. At Mina’s suggestion, the class went out for ramen after Aizawa announced everyone was going.

“What are everyone’s plans for the summer?” Mina asked excitedly, bouncing in her seat. “We should try to do something together.”

“We could go shopping together,” Uraraka pointed out. “Most of us probably need to get at least a few things off the list to bring, right?”

The next day, Aizawa drove Akira and Shinso to the mall, reminding them to ping their location and not engage if they ran into any trouble. Akira slipped a copy of Dabi’s note onto the console as they left, hoping the time difference would shake potential suspicion. As the group split into pairs, things seemed to be going smoothly.

“Think Uraraka’s finally gonna tell Midoriya about her crush?”

Akira stared between him and the pair that had just separated. ‘She has a crush on him?’

They snorted, “It’s pretty obvious. The looks, the blushing, Mina’s intuition…”

Shaking their head, Akira did a double take as they noticed someone leading a stiff Midoriya to a bench. ‘Do you know the guy leading Midoriya? Seems off.’

Shinso frowned, and the two slowly made their way around the top to get a better angle. Akira pulled out their phone and hovered over the emergency locator. ‘There’s a trafficking ring active, if anything is suspicious-’ Akira slammed the villain alert as they spotted a hand around Midoriya’s neck. They followed it with a text to Aizawa with a picture of the situation, “Man with hand around Midoriya’s throat. No reaction, likely civilians threatened.”

Moments later, he responded. “Evacuate. Coordinate with security. ETA 10 minutes.”

With a nod to Shinso, Akira quickly scanned the floor for the security office and motioned Shinso to it. Akira told the class group chat to start evacuating people and made their way through the second floor with the authority of a U.A. student. Most followed their instructions, but a few stragglers refused to listen to a child.

Huffing in frustration, Akira looked over the balcony again and saw Uraraka approaching the pair. Immediately, they shot out a text, “Don’t approach. Aizawa en route.”

Halfway through the second floor, Akira spotted Tokoyami and Ida assisting with the evacuation. Catching their eyes, Akira signaled the two to continue while they made their way downstairs. A few more had joined the evacuation, although it was starting to be noticeable. Akira shot off another text to Aizawa, “Crowd thinning noticeable. Permission to use quirk.”

“Permission granted but don’t engage. ETA 2 minutes.”

Ducking behind a plant, Akira warped to the other side of Midoriya, tapping his leg twice. Examining the hold, they forced their breathing to steady as they recognized Shigaraki’s eyes. The moment they felt their invisibility drop early, Akira chopped their hand in between Shigaraki’s finger and Midoriya’s throat, narrowly catching it as they stared into red eyes. Shit.

Shigaraki pulled away to their confusion as Midoriya started coughing. “Oh, you had a friend with you? Sorry ‘bout that. I’m off, then.” With a heated glance at Akira, he continued. “If you try following me, I’ll get angry.”

Frozen, Akira watched Shigaraki slip into the crowd after answering Midoriya’s bold questions, blending in with the evacuees. After a moment, they checked Midoriya, examining his neck while he tried to catch his breath.

‘What the fuck. Don’t antagonize someone who just nearly dusted you,’ Akira signed as they didn’t see any lasting damage.

Aizawa rushed out of the crowd, “Where is he?”

‘Gone into the crowd. Something disrupted my clone while I was following your instructions, and it was too risky to then follow him into a crowd,’ Akira signed. ‘Broccoli is winded but not hurt.’ They winced at the small bruise starting to form. ‘Not seriously.’

There was a lot of paperwork to fill out as a quirk had been used, and they had to go to the police station with Midoriya. A pro’s permission technically applied, although the medium would be questionable if Aizawa had not used the phone number on file.

“You did good, kids,” Aizawa gruffly said as they finally left that evening. Midoriya’s mom whisked him away and Aizawa turned to Akira. “I’d feel more comfortable if you continue to stay with us, but I’ll give you a ride to where you want.”

‘Warehouse District 11. I need to be close.’ As much as Akira found themself wanting to stay, it was too dangerous. For them and for the hero family.

Notes:

omg I remembered the cutest ship name for kiribaku: pop rocks. Akira noticed when Uraraka didn’t because they’ve been watching for human trafficking. Midoriya going with a stranger wouldn’t make sense. When I first uploaded this chapter on ao3, I had just finished Bello Licentiae. I just finished Libertias aut Mortis yesterday :)

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susiephone · 4 years ago

Note

Imagine thinking that wanting straight people to be accepting of gay people is a "trap" and not like, literally THE entire goal of the modern LGBT rights movement since its inception

okay. this is in response to me saying “respectability politics is a trap.” which it absolutely is.

but i’ll give you the benefit of the doubt here. let’s define respectability politics, shall we?

several people who are more well-spoken than me have talked about this. to quote this article on the subject:

Respectability politics is a school of thought that utilizes respectability narratives as the basis for enacting social, political, and legal change.

Respectability narratives are representations of marginalized individuals meant to construct an image of the marginalized group as people sharing similar traits, values, morals with the dominant group.

essentially, respectability politics is when people in a marginalized group (queer people, disabled people, people of color) wish to be accepted by the majority, and thus present themselves in a way and behave in a way that the majority deems acceptable - and pressure others in their marginalized group to do the same. for example:

“Not all bisexual people are sluts, I’m bi and I’ve been in a committed relationship for 20 years!”

“I’m gay, but I’m not one of THOSE gay guys, I hate shopping and I don’t like to flaunt my sexuality at all!”

“Lesbians aren’t really all masculine, I love makeup and having long hair.”

(I’m using examples I’ve seen in the queer community because I’m queer; I know this happens a lot in communities of color, but I am not qualified to speak on that at all.)

this stems from a desire to be accepted by the majority; for the purposes of this discussion, straight people. we hear straight people say things like “i could never date a bi person, they’re all cheaters” or “i don’t mind gay guys, don’t just shove it in my face” and “why don’t lesbians act like women if they love them?” and, in response, some people go, “i don’t act like that!! you can accept me! i fit in! i’m respectable, i’m not like those guys, they embarrass us!”

there’s also a lot of people saying, “don’t reinforce the stereotype.” as if it’s OUR fault straight people stereotype us.

so this leads to shaming within our own community:

“You’re bi and polyamorous? Wow, way to make people think we’re all two-timing whores.”

“Makeup? Jesus, we get it, you’re gay, you don’t have to make it a pride parade every time you go out.”

“You look like a teenage boy, this is why everyone lesbians aren’t real women.”

and that all boils down to:

“THIS is the example you’re setting? This is the face you show to the world? Don’t you know you’re representing us? No wonder they don’t respect us.”

and that’s the real problem: telling other queer people, “it is YOUR fault you’re not accepted, YOU aren’t acceptable, YOU reinforce these stereotypes, YOU should try and be more respectable, more normal.” and the thing is, “normal” is defined by the majority. THEY decide what is acceptable behavior for us. and guess what?

most of the time, that boils down to, “It’s fine if you’re different... as long as you’re as close to what I deem normal as possible. As long as I can’t tell you’re different.”

in the queer community, this sort of thinking has led to the exclusion of butch lesbians, femme gay men, nonbinary people, non-passing trans people, trans people in general, people who use any pronouns besides she/her and he/him, bisexual people, ace people, aro people, pan people, polyamorous bisexual people, people who have an active sex life, sex workers, people who have changed how they identify, and countless others. these people get shoved aside by the Good Respectable Gays, who are eager to say, “We’re not like them, we’re just like you!” in order to be accepted by the mainstream. and it still doesn’t work. even the most macho, would-never-guess-it gay guy is bound to face some level of oppression or otherness at some point in his life. it doesn’t matter how much he fits in, how much he distances himself from the Unacceptable Queers; it won’t work 100% of the time. how’s that for a punchline?

there is no point in trying to file off the “unacceptable” parts of our community just to please straight people.

if a person hates all queer people, no matter how they act or present, they’re a homophobe.

if a person doesn’t hate queer people, just the ones who shove it in your face and sleep around and won’t shut up about it and buck gender norms and use weird pronouns and expect people to learn their new name and change their identity every week... they’re still a fucking homophobe.

and why the fuck are we trying to please homophobes, again?

so when people say lil nas x is bad, actually, because he “reinforces the stereotype” of gay people going to hell and thinking a lot about sex or whatever, they’re playing right into respectability politics. why can’t he just talk about his sexuality in a normal way? why can’t he express himself in a nicer way? why does he have to use that imagery? why does he have to make straight people uncomfortable?

lis nas x is a gay black man who grew up being told he’d burn in hell for being gay. and he made an awesome song with a legendary music video saying, “fine. i’ll go to hell, just like you want, and it’ll be great. i’ll take the damn place over and make satan fall in love with me. and i’ll have a great time doing it, because i’m proud of who i am, and i won’t apologize for it or be ashamed of it anymore.”

to see that and wring your hands, worrying that a straight person will see it and decide to be homophobic about it, and pinning the blame for that on nas is missing the point.

every time we as a community make ourselves lesser or change the way we present just to be accepted by the majority, they move the goalposts, and someone else gets left behind. and the beautiful thing about the queer community is that there is a place for everyone who is left out in the cold by the straight, cis majority.

“We’re here, we’re queer, get used to it” was the rallying cry for a reason. we’re different, you think we’re weird, you think we’re deviant, you don’t get us, and that’s fine, you don’t have to get us. we’re not going anywhere. get used to it.

respectability politics is a game you cannot win. so stop playing.

#respectability politics #queer #queer pride #lgbtq #long post cw #Anonymous

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gendercensus · 4 years ago

Text

On fae/faer pronouns and cultural appropriation

HOW IT STARTED

I had a handful, a very small handful but more than two, responses in the Gender Census feedback box telling me that fae/faer pronouns are appropriative. The reasons didn’t always agree, and the culture that was being appropriated wasn’t always the same, but here’s a selection of quotes:

“Fae pronouns are cultural appropriation and are harmful to use“ - UK, age 11-15

“I’m not a person who practices pagan holidays but, my understanding is that pronouns like fae/faeself are harmful because the fae are real to pagans and is like using Jesus/jesuself as pronouns“ - UK, age 11-15

“I know you've probably heard this a million times, so has everyone on the internet, but the ''mere existence''of the fae pronoun feels really uncomfortable for some of us. I'm personally not against neopronouns like xe/xim, er/em and the like, I am a pagan but apart from the, imo most important, reasoning of that pronoun being immensely disrespectful, I worry as an nb about people who banalize the usage of pronouns ''for fun'', and I'm quoting what some people have told me.“ - Spain, 16-20

“I don't agree with fae/deity pronouns just from a pagan perspective it's very disrespectful to the cultures they come from. Like Fae are a legit thing in many cultures and they hate with a fiery passion mortal humans calling themselves Fae to the point of harming/cursing the people who do it“ - USA, age 16-20

“only celtic people can use far/ faers otherwise it’s cultural appropriation, many celts have said this and told me this“ - USA, age 16-20

So that’s:

❓ Someone who doesn’t say whether they’re pagan or Celtic.

❌ Someone who definitely isn’t pagan.

✅ Someone who is pagan.

❓ Someone who doesn’t say whether they’re pagan or Celtic.

So, just to disclose some bias up-front, I am English so I’m not Celtic, but I do live in Wales so I am surrounded by Celts. The bit of Wales that I live in is so beautiful in such a way that when my French friend came to visit me she described it as féerique - like an enchanting, magical land, literally “fairylike” or thereabouts. Coincidentally I have also considered myself mostly pagan for over half of my life, and I can’t definitively claim whether or not the Fae are “part of paganism” because paganism is so diverse and pick’n’mix that it just doesn’t work that way.

To me the idea that fae/faer pronouns would be offensive or culturally appropriative sounds absurd. But also, I am powered by curiosity, and have been wrong enough times in my life that I wanted to approach this in a neutral way with an open mind. Perhaps what I find out can be helpful to some people.

So since we only have information from one person who is definitely directly affected by any cultural appropriation that may be happening, the first thing I wanted to do was get some information from ideally a large number of people who are in the cultures being appropriated, and see what they think.

WHAT I DID

First of all I put some polls up on Twitter and Mastodon. [Edit: Note that this post has been updated with results from closed polls.]

I specified that I wanted to hear from nonbinary Celts and pagans, just so that the voters would be familiar with fae/faer pronouns. I asked the questions in a neutral way, i.e. “How do you feel about...” with “good/neutral/bad” answer options, instead of something more leading like “Is this a load of rubbish?” or “are you super offended?” with “yes/no” options. I provided a “see results” option, so that the poll results wouldn’t be skewed as much by random people clicking any old answer to see the results. And I invited voters to express their opinions in replies.

Question #1: Nonbinary people of Celtic descent (Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Cornwall, the Isle of Man, and Brittany), how do you feel about non-Celtic people using the neopronoun set fae/faer? [ It's good / No strong feelings/other / It's bad ]

Question #2: Nonbinary pagans, how do you feel about non-pagans using the neopronoun set fae/faer? [ It's good / No strong feelings/other / It's bad ]

The Twitter polls got over 1,100 responses each, and the Mastodon polls got over 140 responses each. With a little bit of spreadsheetery I removed the “N/A” responses to reverse engineer the number of people voting for each option, combined those numbers, and recalculated percentages.

Obviously this approach is not in the least scientific, but thankfully the results were unambiguous enough and the samples were big enough that I feel comfortable drawing conclusions.

Celts on fae/faer pronouns being used by non-Celts (561 voters):

It's good - 42.5%

No strong feelings/other - 44.0%

It's bad - 13.5%

Pagans on fae/faer pronouns being used by non-pagans (468 voters):

It's good - 47.2%

No strong feelings/other - 39.5%

It's bad - 13.3%

Here’s how that looks as a graph:

The limitations of polls on these platforms means that we have no way to distinguish between people who have more complicated views (”other”) and people who have “no strong feelings”, so we can’t really draw conclusions there. If we stick to just the pure positive and pure negative:

Celts were over three times as likely to feel positive about non-Celts using fae/faer pronouns than they were to feel negative.

Pagans were over three and a half times as likely to feel positive about non-pagans using fae/faer pronouns than they were to feel negative.

So Celts and pagans are way more likely to feel actively good about someone’s fae/faer pronouns, even when that person is not a Celt/pagan. That’s some strong evidence against the idea that fae/faer pronouns are appropriative, right there.

CORRECTIONS

To be clear, I haven’t done any research about the roots of fae/faer or the origins of the Fae and related beings, but my goal here was to get a sense of what Celts and pagans think and feel, rather than what an historian or anthropologist would say.

On the anti side, here were the replies that suggested fae/faer either is or might be inappropriate:

“I only worry that not everyone understands the origin of the word outside of modernized ideas of fairies.“ - pagan

“As a vaguely spiritual Whatever (Ireland), I think a mortal using "fae" as a pronoun/to refer to themselves is asking for a malicious and inventive fairy curse (on them, their families and possibly anyone in their vicinity, going by the traditions). I have not heard of this term before, so this is an immediate reaction from no background bar my cultural knowledge of sidhe/fae/term as culturally appropriate. My general approach is people can identify themselves as they want.“ - Celtic

So we’ve got a pagan who’s wary that people who use fae/faer (and people in general) might not have a fully fleshed out idea of the Fae. And we’ve got a Celt who doesn’t mind people using fae/faer personally, but based on what they know of the Fae they wouldn’t be surprised if the Fae got mad about it. No outright opposition, but a little concern.

There were not a lot of replies on the pro side, but not because people weren’t into it, judging by the votes. There were a lot of “it’s more complicated than that” replies, many of which repeated others, so quotes won’t really work. Here’s a summary of the Celtic bits:

“Fae” is not a Celtic word, and Celts don’t use it. It is French, or Anglo-French.

“Fae” can refer to any number of stories/legends from a wide variety of cultures in Europe, not one cohesive concept.

There are many legends about fairy-like beings in Celtic mythologies, and there are many, many different names for them.

The Celts are not a monolith, they’re a broad selection of cultures with various languages and various mythologies.

And the pagan bits:

Paganism is not closed or exclusive in any way. It might actually be more open than anything else, as “pagan” is a sort of umbrella term for non-mainstream religions in some contexts. A closed culture would be a prerequisite for something to be considered “appropriated” from paganism.

From my own experience, pagans may or may not believe in the Fae, and within that group believers may or may not consider the Fae to be sacred and/or worthy of great respect. (I’ve certainly never met a pagan who worshipped the Fae, though I don’t doubt that some do.)

And then we get into the accusations. 🍿

“this issue wasn’t started by Celtic groups or by people who know much about Celtic fae. It was started primarily by anti-neopronoun exclusionist pagans on TikTok.“

“[I’m] literally Scottish [...] and it’s not appropriative in the least and honestly to suggest as such is massively invalidating towards actual acts of cultural appropriation and is therefore racist. Feel like if this was actually brought up it was either by some people who seriously got their wires crossed or people who are just concern trolling and trying to make fun of both neo-pronouns and of the concept of cultural appropriation and stir the pot in the process.“

“It wouldn't be the first time bigots falsly claim “it's appropriative from X marginalized group" to harass people they don't like, like they did with aspec people when they claimed "aspec" was stolen from autistic language (which was false, as many autistics said)“

“It's been a discussion in pagan circles recently ... People were very quick to use the discussion as an excuse to shit on nonbinary people.“

“I think it would be apropos to note that the word "faerie/fairy" has been a synonym for various queer identities for decades, too. The Radical Faeries are a good example.“ (So if anyone has the right to [re]claim it...)

A little healthy skepticism is often wise in online LGBTQ+ “discourse”, and some of these people are making some very strong claims, for which I’d love to see some evidence/sources/context. Some of it certainly sounds plausible.

HOW DID IT START?

I had a look on Twitter and the earliest claim I can find that fae/faer pronouns are cultural appropriation is from 18th February 2020, almost exactly one year ago today. Again, tweets are not the best medium for this, there was very little in the way of nuance or context. If anyone can find an older claim from Twitter or Tumblr or anywhere else online, please do send it my way.

I have no idea how to navigate TikTok because I’m a nonbinosaur. (I’m 34.) I did find some videos of teens and young adults apparently earnestly asserting that they were Celtic or pagan and the use of fae/faer pronouns was offensive, but the videos were very brief and provided nothing in the way of nuance or context. For example:

This one from October 2020 with 29k ❤️s, by someone who I assume is USian based on the word “mom”?

This one from December 2020, that says “I am pagan and i find it rather disrespectful. It’s like using god/godr or jesus/jesusr.” That’s probably what inspired the feedback box comment above that refers to hypothetical jesus/jesusr pronouns.

If anyone is able to find a particularly old or influential TikTok video about fae/faer pronouns being appropriative I’d really appreciate it, especially if it’s from a different age group or from not-the-USA, to give us a feel for how universal this is.

For context, fae pronouns were mentioned in the very first Gender Census back in May 2013, though you’ll have to take my word for it as the individual responses are not currently public. The word “fae” was mentioned in the pronoun question’s “other” textbox, and no other forms in the set were entered so we have no way of knowing for sure what that person’s full pronoun set actually is. This means the set may have been around for longer. The Nonbinary Wiki says that the pronoun set was created in October 2013, as “fae/vaer”, later than the first entry in the Gender Census, so I’ll be editing that wiki page later! If anyone has any examples of fae/faer pronouns in use before 2013 I would also be very interested to see that.

IN SUMMARY

Obviously I can’t speak for everyone, as the Twitter polls are not super scientific and they only surveyed a selection of Celts and pagans within a few degrees of separation of the Gender Census Twitter and Mastodon accounts, but I can certainly report on what I found.

For a more conclusive result, we’d need to take into account various demographics such as age, culture, location, religion, race/heritage, etc.

As far as I can tell based on fairly small samples of over 400 people per group, a minority of about 13% of Celtic and/or pagan people felt that use of fae/faer pronouns is appropriative.

A much higher number of people per group felt positive about people who are not Celts or pagans using fae/faer pronouns. The predominant view was:

It can’t be cultural appropriation from Celtic cultures because fairy-like beings are not unique to Celtic cultures and Celtic cultures don’t call them Fae.

It can’t be cultural appropriation from pagan cultures because paganism is not “closed” or exclusive in any way, it’s too broad and open.

If your experience of your gender(s) or lack thereof isn’t described or encompassed by the gender binary of “male OR female”, please do click here to take the Gender Census 2021 - it’s international and it closes no earlier than 10th March 2021!

#fae/faer #pronouns #neopronouns #cultural appropriation

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bisexual-horror-fan · 2 years ago

Note

Bex I would KILL for polyam Re-Animator boys. I would KILL AND THEN REANIMATE PLEASE BEX IM BEGGIN YOU

I was looking at this and wondering how to tackle it, but then I saw your wording. You’d kill for them, huh? Re-animate for em too? Well look at what you wrought. What can I say? I can't resist begging. Hope you love it Anon!

—

Rating. NSFW. Length. 1.6K. Herbert West X Dan Cain X GN! Reader. No Pronouns Specified. Poly!DanBert. Warnings: Blood. Gore. Murder. Unethical Science. Canon Compliant Violence. Choking. Crying. Emotional Talk. Injury. Comfort. Vulnerability. Polyamory.

—

Thank You.

—

You had been upstairs, were reading a book, curled up on the couch in the Miskatonic University sweatshirt you stole from Dan, it still smelled like him. You would cat whiffs of him on occasion when the edges of your sleeves were held near your nose, it made you smile.

Your quiet evening of reading was interrupted by some sound coming from the basement. It made you jump and pause, your head snapping up as you listened. It was quiet for a moment until the sound began again and you slammed the book closed and got up, almost throwing yourself off the couch and towards the basement.

It was loud, so loud, you heard yelling, a struggle, the sounds grew louder as you descended the stairs, taking them two at a time.

You threw open the door and it was hard to tell what was happening at first with how hard the light was swinging back and forth. It was confusing at first, a scramble, there was blood, you saw flashes of red and smelt iron and chemicals and it was so, much, louder down here. The clang of metal on metal, something wet, choking, and the shouting-

For a moment, after the initial rush and confusion, it was as if it all came into focus. Herbert on the ground, half sitting up, hand on his side, crimson soaking into the white material of his white dress shirt. Dan, also on the ground and something, no someone, a man, over him, hands around his throat-

And there wasn’t a thought in your mind after that point. You don’t think. You act.

You move, your eyes dart down to the table, you see the glint of silver and your hand snatches it up as you pass, you gotta be fast, you can’t linger or wait, there isn’t time or margin for error. You are barefoot, you feel the blood under your feet and have to fight to stay upright on your path. You move swiftly, your hand threads in this sick fuck’s hair and your other hand, the one gripping what would now be your weapon, comes down hard, stabbing into this fuckers throat.

He tenses but doesn’t stop choking Dan so you don’t stop either. He struggles, tries to shrug you off but you grip his hair harder and you pull out the scalpel before you stab again and again over and over into the side of his neck. Blood sprays and gushes, it paints your hand, your arm, you feel it fleck your face, you taste it, blink through the red as you don’t stop until he does. Your arms ache from the effort of it. You feel him slowing, getting heavier, weaker, you pull out the scalpel, you can barely hold it now with how slick the scarlet coating your hand is but you manage to flip it and you slash his throat, left to right. Blood gushes out, down his front and a good amount soaking Dan below.

The sounds he makes are sick but you don’t focus on it.

Finally, after what feels like far too long but what was realistically less than a minute he stops choking Dan, his hands loosen and you use your grip on his hair to pull him, let him fall onto his side hard. He drops like dead weight, still bleeding out onto the concrete basement floor.

You stare down at his body, making sure there were no more signs of movement, your chest was heaving, panting, when you are sure he is dead you drop the weapon, it clinks on the ground and you sigh. Your hand comes up and wipes at your forehead, you smear blood as you do, shoulders sagging and that is why you notice, hearing Dan coughing and Herbert’s voice calling out your name.

You come back to yourself and rush forward, drop on your knees so hard it hurts, you cradle Dan’s head as he rubs at his throat, “Dan! Dan holy fucking shit are you okay?!”

He didn’t say anything but he nodded, he tried to sit up but you didn’t let him, pushing on his shoulders to keep him down, “Hey! Don’t rush, please, take it easy-”

He cleared his throat, tried to speak, he pointed and you hear it, weak and soft, “Herbert?”

You looked over your shoulder and were reminded of Herbert a few feet away, the sight of all the blood soaked into his shirt makes you look down to Dan, eyes wide with concern, “You okay?”

Another nod and you go check on Herbert who tries to wave off your fussing with a roll of his eyes, “It isn’t my blood, really, you should be more concerned with Daniel.”

“Why are you holding your side like that then?” You started to lift his shirt, he tried to stop you but you smacked his hands away and got the material out of the way, a deep purple bruise was already starting to form.

You look up and meet his eyes and he isn’t looking at you, “So what is this then?”

“He got in one lucky shot, okay?” You give him an unconvinced look as his eyes dart back to your face and he scoffs, “Really it’s fine-”

That makes you break. It isn’t fine. You snap at him, “It’s not Herbert! Holy shit!” You let them know that it isn’t and the fight starts.

You left the basement that night, eventually, helped them upstairs carefully, all checking each other out and after determining you are all okay you ask them what the fuck that was all about. You usually left what they did in the basement alone, you ignored the late nights and weird behaviour, but this near death experience pushes you too far. You ask what they do down there, who was that guy, how did he get in the house?

They shared a nervous look, both seated at the kitchen table, nearly shoulder to shoulder as you were across from them, your arms crossed, “Well?”

They spill. About the experiments that have been on since before you moved in, the very, very unethical science, the sneaking bodies and parts from the graveyard and the hospital, the desecration of the dead and the main thing, re-animating their corpses. Trying to cheat death, unlock the secrets to eternal life.

It didn’t take much convincing from them for you to believe which they found shocking. After living with them this long and seeing that mess downstairs, that strange man who looked so not normal, pronounced veins and eyes bulging, the sounds he made, the unreasonable strength he seemed to possess. He wasn’t human.

They loved you.

Had loved the little arrangement you had all started up, but it was so tenuous, so new and undefined and fragile. They hid this, terrified that it would drive you away if you knew what they did in the basement.

Now it was out in the open and you were being quiet.

So when you were all back downstairs, various stages of cleaning up in the basement taking place, and you, staring into the open fridge at the neatly lined up bottles of re-agent, so silent, they were convinced you were planning your exit. From the house, your relationship, the life you had built for the three of you and your hopeful future.

The shock of you, still staring at the glowing green fluid, saying, “So when is the next experiment?”

They shared another look full of confusion. Dan spoke up first, his voice still sounded a bit rough, “What?”

You closed the fridge and turned to face them, saying again, “When’s the next experiment?”

Herbert’s eyes narrowed, he tried to keep his tone even as he asked, “And why do you want to know that?”

You scoff, leaning against the fridge, “So I can clear my schedule so I can be here obviously.”

Their shocked expressions make you laugh. “You mean it?” Dan asked.

You shrugged and you said, “Yeah. I saw what happened tonight, how wrong it could have gone if I didn’t step in. So, clearly, I need to be here to keep an eye on you both and help prevent something like that from ever happening again.”

You were perfect, totally perfect, unbelievable, unreal, just there were no words.

“Besides, many hands make light work. I know I can’t talk you both out of this, so I’m gonna help in any way I can instead.” You know this is important to Herbert, you don’t say it, the look in your eyes conveys it all for you.

You are wrapped up in two sets of arms so quickly. The thank you doesn’t need to be said either. You hug them back, squished between them, one arm around each of them. “So you aren’t…”

Dan couldn’t say that last word, he couldn’t ask it, wasn’t strong enough but you reassure him.

You weren’t sure when you started crying, maybe the intensity of the emotion of all this is hitting you. “No, no I’m not leaving, I promise.”

You let go of them, your hands came up, you wiped at your eyes and saw how ruined the sleeves were, crusted with blood from the awful act you committed almost two hours ago now, the one you had paused cleaning up from. You sob, letting yourself be swept up in the feelings rushing through you, “M sorry I ruined your sweater Dan.”

It makes them both laugh, you can’t see through the tears, still wiping at your eyes, but it sounds like Dan is crying too through the laughter, “Fuck the sweater! I’d rather have you any fucking day.”

Herbert speaks then, his own voice nowhere near as composed as it normally is, “We can buy you a new sweater.”

You laugh, small and sad and broken but a laugh all the same. You feel his grip on the back of the sweatshirt tighten, as if he never wanted to let go, like he needed you here. The tone, the contact, it said it all, you are far, far more valuable to them then any dumb sweater.

You love them. Fucked up and full of mistakes you really do and even with the slight nerves, you think you can navigate this together and help keep these two idiots you’ve fallen for alive. You would die for them, would kill for them too apparently, so what is a little bit of weird science on top of that when it means being with them?

#Poly!DanBert X Reader #BHF writing #BHF asks #BHF 2K Follower Raffle #Hope you all love it #Not smut but hey it is nice to break it up

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rotationalsymmetry · 1 year ago

Note

But there are a few things the internet is really good for.

Getting out the news about specific things without having to run them through newspapers etc that ultimately are owned by billionaires with reactionary politics. This can be especially important with protests that the press has decided to give a negative or inflammatory spin to, and with news about groups of people that the press tends to not cover very well.

Creating supportive communities for small marginalized groups, and groups of people who have a very unusual shared interest. If I want ideas for how to manage my chronic illness, I’m finding them online. If I want photos of fat people who aren’t ashamed of their bodies, I can find them online. If I want to find someone to get really excited about marine biology with, either a place of higher education or online.

3. Spreading ideas that are different from the mainstream narrative. Now, I think social media is usually terrible for this; social media tends to prioritize people who can put out a bunch of poorly thought out spam as rapidly as possible, it doesn’t reward nuance or wrestling with complex ideas. But, occasionally I get a new idea from social media, and other times I’ll get a recommendation to a book, podcast, blog, or documentary that does have those ideas.

5. or to a work of fiction that introduces the ideas in a more relatable/emotionally impactful manner, or a song that humanizes an abstract concept, or a TV show with a character who speaks to my soul, or…

6. this is probably the least important thing, but sometimes whoever is able to repeat the same idea the most time gets to dominate the public consciousness. Whether that’s “trans women are women, trans men are men” or “all cops are bad” or whatever. Crucially this is not about arguing, this generally works best by just asserting a concept as though it’s self evident and everyone agrees with it already. I’m not sure that repeatedly calling strangers out is the most effective way to do this? But I can’t deny that there’s been a massive, massive surge in trans visibility over the last idk maybe 15 years or so? To the point that total normies who had never so much as seen a trans person on TV in the 2000’s are now putting pronouns next to their name on zoom calls. A lot of that happened online. (7 maybe? Yelling at bigots about their bigotry shuts conversation down. This is bad in situations where it’s better to open conversation up. But there are some specific situations where it is better to just shut the conversation down, especially when you’re pretty confident the person you’re shutting down is actively malicious and not just ignorant.)

So…I think it’s a matter of balance. But also, Anonymous, who I hope sees this: I did offline activism in the 2000’s and every damn thing I did felt like spitting in the wind. So. It probably is the case that a lot of online activism is more about fighting for the sake of fighting than actually constructive in any way. But, it might also be that the effects of activism can be hard to see while you’re in the middle of it. It’s good to step back and evaluate for effectiveness. But it’s possible to feel like you’re not being effective even when you are.

How do we undo the adverse effects of social media on our brains/culture/capacity to organize? As someone who's been online since the age of ten and in the trenches of online "social justice activism" for a decade and change, I feel like there's been little net benefit to any of it, and that the mechanisms of these terrible sites has mostly just made us more hostile and reactive without bringing us closer to the ostensible goals we're duking it out over. Like, I'm not saying that nobody online deserves to be called out ever, but after ten years of this shit I'm just not sure how funneling a majority of our energy toward reaming bigoted strangers in the name of "accountability" translates into meaningful collective action, and that's without touching the circular firing squad phenomenon I see in a lot of leftist spaces.

I dunno. I just don't feel like getting in fights online all the time is activism, and I also feel like I'm in a minority among leftists for holding that opinion.

Well, most of the leftists online don't hold that opinion. But if you go to a DSA meeting or a Food Not Bombs or a local mutual aid group or any kind of on the ground queer lefty events you'll very much find many people who are doing the work and are mostly not online and don't think that online nonsense is all that important.

As for your first question, the way we fix this kind of mentality is by getting offline (and off platforms that incentivize that kind of thinking) and start relating to people in a slower, more personalized way.

The brain is not ruined forever by exposure to this shit, humans are just very very pliable. Who we are and how we think is dramatically shaped by our daily habits and the incentive structures around us. If we wish to change how we think and behave, we leave the structures that are rewarding us for behaving in counter productive ways. We can adapt to other modes of being quite quickly when our environment changes.

This does not have to happen exclusively in person, I understand people are disabled and COVID conscious and some can't leave the house. There are a lot of groups devoted to this stuff that meet partially or exclusively online -- look up a local chapter of some of these orgs and see what their virtual meetings are like. Even like Meetup and Eventbrite have a startling ton of online meetings and events listed for marginalized groups and organizers.

so much of this annoying focus-pulling shit that can distract you and enrage you online fully does not matter. the people engaging in it are categorically not the people doing the work in person. so go find the kind of in person work that is genuinely meaningful to you -- or find ways to connect in a slow, personalized fashion online, away from the social media apps. once you start digging you'll be shocked at how much there is!!!

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 3 years ago

Text

Grumpy Softie (Spencer Reid x Reader) Smut

Summary: There are a few sure-fire ways to improve a frustrated doctor’s mood.

AN: This is my fic for @reidgraygubler for @imagining-in-the-margins and @sunlight-moonrise fic swap! I hope you enjoy it! Reader is AFAB and uses they/them pronouns. 18+, Minors DNI!

Content Warnings: Grinding, mild choking, mutual masturbation, desk sex.

Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

Spencer had been cantankerous beyond belief these last few days. His passive aggression seeped through to every action: the harsh clinking of the teaspoon against his coffee mug, the pen scratching against a student’s homework, his brow determined to iron in wrinkles while he read one of many bills.

Mandatory days off from work would have driven him insane were it not for his position at college. Finally, it was Doctor Spencer Reid’s turn to take on the lecture theatre alone, only a hint of nostalgia in his chest for when Gideon was at his side or when he would poke his head around the door with a casefile pressed to his chest. Still wet behind the ears and barely filling out the FBI’s smaller sized vests – let alone the windbreaker.

Now he was leading the class, all eyes on him, and more students were laughing at his jokes.

With a loud sigh, Spencer took off his glasses, leaning back with his fingers rubbing darkness back under his eyes. As if his fractioned sleep schedule wasn’t doing enough of that for him. His desk was weighed heavy under the piles of essays he printed off. He hadn’t moved for three hours and he had no reason to: no classes, he wasn’t hungry nor did he need the toilet. Only one thing could save him from his dismal mood continuing for the rest of the day.

Y/N crawled over his lap with the knowledge that Spencer would not try to push them away. Working his soft spot for them, they settled down upon him and squeezed his shoulders tight.

Blinking against the light, Spencer’s half-closed lids focused on the shadowy face and the left corner of his mouth lifted for them.

“Hey,” He said, his voice low and gravelly.

Y/N leant their nose against his for a second, “Hi.”

“I’m busy, you know?”

“I do. I just missed you.”

“My door is open; you can see me from the couch.”

“Not close enough.”

Prison had done that to the couple. Made them “clingy” despite Spencer’s aversion for touch, but it was understandable. The proxemics between Spencer and Shadow meant nothing but agony if they weren’t touching. That divider, the guards keeping eyes and reaching for guns, batons, at an inch’s worth of movement, those signs screaming: “NO CONTACT BETWEEN VISITORS AND INMATES”. What a hierarchy.

Shadow kept up their smile despite the meaning behind their words. A decent mask to cover the pain on their end because why would they want to burden Spencer with theirs as well as his own? Except that was what their relationship supported and Spencer was able to lift off the mask to welcome all emotion it had been hiding, because that was exactly what Y/N had done for him once he was released.

“This close enough?” He said, wrapping his arms around their waist with his left wrist in his right hand. The link pressed against Y/N’s lower back and nudged them closer. Y/N’s smile was hidden in a bitten lip as they shook their head.

“Oh?” Spencer raised his eyebrows, clicking his tongue. With deliberation, he moved so that Y/N was trapped now by his forearm. His free hand closed tenderly around their neck and gave a light squeeze, “How about this?”

Y/N let out a cross between a whine and a hum. That was the push they wanted and all the confirmation Spencer needed.

Taking the lead, Y/N was up to strip off their trousers and underwear while Spencer undid his belt. There was only so much time; the waistband of his trousers caught underneath his thighs when Y/N returned to his lap. Fluid and practiced motions removed his cock from his underwear, the sound of spit hitting skin followed by the touch of a loving hand. He lavished in the attention for a few seconds. Then he matched their stroking with his own nimble fingers, simultaneously grounding them in each other’s grasp and lifting them away into heaven-like states.

He used Y/N’s own tactics against them and won as they moaned against his lips, pulling away only at the will of his hand. Their own feeble attempts at pulling his hair did nothing to dissuade his speed; the whining only made him more fervent.

That faux innocence, as if Y/N didn’t know what they were doing while practically humping his clothed cock in the middle of his work day, it was intoxicating and he breathed it in from the slope of their neck. Open mouthed, he gripped their cheeks tight and grinded against them.

“Please,” Y/N whispered.

Only because they asked so beautifully. Y/N wobbled before they settled onto his cock. Their clit was flush with his pubic bone before Spencer started moving, digging his heels into the carpet. Seeing, hearing, feeling their bliss, it didn’t take long for him to cum inside them, leading Y/N to climax. They were so needy, so loving as they came in his lap. Spencer kissed their cheek, whispered a few words of gratitude in their ear. He revelled in the moan he got as a reply that was accompanied by a squeeze around him.

“This is almost perfect,” Y/N sighed.

Spencer stopped, his confused pout still pressed up against their skin. “Almost?”

“Too many clothes in the way.”

“Hmm. I agree.” A little laughter was shared between them. “And you’re missing a ring.”

Flexing their fingers behind his neck, Shadow said, “So are you. You want one that vibrates?”

“I uh wasn’t talking about that.”

“I know, hun. I know.” The teasing in their tone was clear. One might not believe they had been begging for release just minutes prior.

“Good idea though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm, I like yours better.”

“Can I tell you something?”

Y/N lifted their head up to look Spencer in the eye, giving him a lazy nod. The twinkle in his eye spread to his smile while he tipped his head over Y/N’s shoulder, “I kinda wanna get the ring from the drawer. But I don’t wanna move.”

Now it was Y/N who was confused. “You’re torn between proposing and not pulling out?”

“Well, since you’ve been good for me…” Spencer began to shuffle on his seat. He stopped instantly as Y/N groaned and clung tighter around to him. Willing some self-restraint, he cupped their thighs and stood slowly with a hand on his chair’s back.

“Spencer please-”

“Almost there, I promise.”

Their laughing hitched with gasps as Spencer placed them down onto his desk, their hands falling amidst paperwork to support themselves with Spencer slanted against their chest. A slide of the desk’s top drawer accompanied the fiddling of documents and Spencer’s craning neck. Y/N couldn’t help themselves. Despite wanting him to achieve his goal, they distracted him with tickling kisses that disturbed his giggles more.

“Got it.” Spencer finally withdrew the box in one hand until it opened and handed over his ring – which he then held between himself and his partner, “So, Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes, I will.” Y/N still couldn’t believe this was happening. Only the cool ring sliding along their finger kept them anchored, dizzying them with happiness as Spencer kissed it. “We can never tell our kids about this.”

Spencer’s gaze broke from the ring, that and his tone being only things soft about him. “Our kids?”

“I mean,” Y/N looked down, “You’re still inside me. It’s almost like you’re making sure you get me knocked up.”

As per usual, Spencer’s mind worked fast. He licked his fingers and reached down, rubbing their clit. Arching into him, Y/N’s forehead glued to Spencer’s and their eyes studied each other’s reactions. Not even as Spencer guided Y/N to lay back on the desk did they break form and Spencer took advantage of this pull up one of their legs and push himself deeper inside once the angle was right for them. Every time he bottomed out, Y/N let out a squeal. This orgasm was silent as it crested over them. No sound left their agape mouth, no breath for several seconds. When that deep sigh finally left their lungs, Spencer released his too, his hips finally slowing down now that the spike of pleasure threatened to take his control.

“Orgasms help when trying for a baby,” panted Spencer, “Supposedly.”

“Whatever you say, doctor, professor, darling.” Y/N swallowed and sighed, “I hope I didn’t crease any of your students�� assignments.”

“They’re copies. Don’t worry, I’ll just print them off again.”

Shoulders rising and falling, Spencer looked like he had just been freed of the weights of the world, and his face was gentle in expressing his relief. The only tension was in his cheeks with his smile, the apples firm and rosy.

Rolling their eyes was the only response that Y/N could think of, that and: “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Spencer turned his head just to keep eye contact wherever Y/N was avoiding it, following their lolling head and beaming still, “I just took you twice at and on my desk, and now you can’t smile at you?”

“Ugh, go back to being cranky, would you?”

“I can’t, not now I’m engaged to the most wonderful person I know.” Oh, a reminder – if he was able to forget, but his mind was rather occupied beforehand. “When anyone asks, we’ll tell them I got down on one knee at the park after a dinner date.”

“How romantic.”

Unable to discern if this was sarcasm or not, Spencer welcomed Y/N’s arms around his neck and their lips locked to his once more as he sat them up but kept them close – just a little longer.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #my writing #wc: 1k+#smut

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typewrittenluck · 3 years ago

Text

as the seasons change

C!Technoblade x gn!reader highschool!au

Word Count: 9.1k

Pronouns: they/them

A/N: this is literally so self indulgent, i spent a whole day writing this because im going through my techno feels rn. it basically follows the story of oblivious Y/N and Techno throughout the four seasons :)

Warnings: Underaged drinking, Swearing, Smoking, Drugs (very brief)

Suggested Songs: The State of Grace, Taylor Swift/ MEET ME AT OUR SPOT, THE ANXIETY, WILLOW, Tyler Cole/ that way, Tate McRae/ Falling, Chase Atlantic/ Compass, The Neighborhood

SUMMER------------

The August air was thick with the heat of the almost-setting sun. Her rays beat down on the backs of the group of teens, and mosquitos filled the silences between them with their incessant buzzing.

A small crack of static preceded the soft sound of music, accompanied by the sharp smack of Niki and Jack’s celebratory high-five.

“Didn’t you start setting up the speaker like an hour ago?” questioned Wilbur, who was sunk into a half-broken lawn chair that he had found in the garage.

“Yeah, it would have been much faster if you had asked Techno” chimed Y/N from their place leaning against the above mentioned man’s leg.

His grunt of response was cut short by his little brother, Tommy, bursting into laughter.

“Because he’s TECHno! Get it?!”

Everyone groaned and Wilbur smacked Tommy upside the head, grumbling about “shouldn’t have let you come hang out with us”

Y/N giggled at that, but took sympathy on the boy. “Aww don’t be like that Wil, Tommy, I thought that was hilarious.”

“Don’t encourage him, Y/N” Techno leaned down to murmured to them in his low, monotonous voice.

There it was. The way he said their name! The way his calf felt under Y/N’s back! The way he whispered sentences directly to them, as if it was some closely guarded secret. It was enough to bring butterflies to their stomach as they praised whatever higher being was out there for the heat of the day covering their blush.

“It’s so fucking hot,” Fundy moaned, kicking Wilburs shin from his place lying facedown on the grass. “Can we go to the pool or something?”

His request was met with a spectrum of responses, varying from Tommy’s “YES, PLEASE WILL? PLEASE!” to Technoblades indifferent shrug.

Jack took note of Technoblades open response with a shout of laughter. “TECHNOBLADE IN THE POOL! I WOULD PAY GOOD MON-”

“I’m not getting in, dumbass.”

“Why? Scared you’ll ruin your hair?”

“No, he doesn’t want us to know he’s secretly jacked under the sixteen sweaters he wears.”

Technoblade picked up the hem of his sweatshirt, making eye contact with Niki. She has a point.

“How do you wear that in the Summer?”

“It’s n- TOMMY!!”

Shrieks of laughter follow Tommy’s water gun assault on his brother. “When did he slip away to go get those?” Y/N wondered aloud.

“WHEN ARE WE LEAVING??” Tommy asked enthusiastically.

---

A crowded minivan, a stop to pick up Tommy’s friend, and a raid of Phil’s linen closet for pool towels later, the group arrived at the neighborhood pool. The sun hung low in the horizon as people spilled out of Phil’s van and began dragging the pool toys and water guns towards the gate.

The air around the black metal bars barring their entrance to the pool seemed to quiver.

“I think Wil has the pool key.” piped Niki in response to Fundy throwing his weight against the fence.

Fundy, in turn, sprinted back to the car, where Wilbur was taking inventory of snacks (and probably hiding the best for himself).

Technoblade looked down at the two younger boys and Y/N conversing in hushed whispers. All of a sudden, they screamed out in perfect synchronization, in equally high pitched voices,

“Let me innnn! Let me in pleaseeee!”

And promptly burst into giggles. Y/N almost toppled into Techno, both from laughing and the slight weariness from the heat.

The pool noodles he was balancing beneath his arms (laden with tote bags of pool toys and towels) toppled to the ground, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Y/N’s hand steadying themself on his chest, and the way his face began to heat up almost unbearably considering the weather.

“Oops, sorry!” they squeaked, leaning down to pick up the fallen noodles.

Technoblade was burst out of his daze by the return of his brother and Fundy, who triumphantly swiped the access card against the pad before kicking the gate wide open.

The clang of metal against the concrete pool clubhouse sent reverberating waves into the air, and everyone winced as the metal continued to drag.

Pool entrances varied, Niki, on the one hand, took her time tip-toeing into the water by the stairs, while Tubbo and Tommy almost knocked each other out crashing over the edge to the deep end.

Y/N chuckled at their antics, but seeing as they had settled on not getting wet today, they picked out a chaise in the shade and pulled a book and pen out of the small bag they had brought with them.

Technoblade watched them with almost unwavering interest, unless someone happened to look his way, in which case he would quickly turn back to his phone, scrolling aimlessly through his home screen until they turned away.

From his spot under the little roof of the clubhouse, he had an almost unobstructed view of Y/N, and how they chewed at the end of the pen they used to annotate their book. Oh how he wished he could read the little notes they scribbled in the margins, or the drawings they would surround words with when they got distracted from reading. And the way that pen dangled from their lips, their tantalizing, soft lips. Taunting him, almost. And their jewel-like, bright eyes. Always so inviting and playful; like the way they were meeting his right now-

Shit

He hadn’t realized he’d been staring that intently. A small quirk of their eyebrow and a smirk on their lips was enough to make his heart give out. But not now. Not when they were waving their hand so intently to get him to sit next to them. Pretending to ponder the decision and gather his belongings, (when in reality he was just collecting his bearings), he walked over to them.

“See! You don’t always want to be alone, Mr. I’m so antisocial and I hate everyone!” they smiled, patting the adjacent seat.

You’re the only exception, he thought, his brain screaming and pushing to let the words leave his mouth. He couldn’t though, not when they could never think of him the way that he thought of them.

So he answered with a small smile and a chuckle.

“What are you reading?”

“The Picture of Dorian Gray! Remember you said you thought I’d enjoy it?” they answered with enthusiasm, that sparkle still evident in their eyes.

It warmed his heart to know that they had taken the suggestion and committed to the book, which was admittedly a pretty tough read, because of him.

“How could I forget?”

Their smile widened and they buried their head back in the book, that cursed pen once again being squished between their plush lips.

Technoblade peered over their shoulder to see that they were nearing the middle of the book, where Dorian returns from his theater date with Basil and Henry. Feeling satisfied enough that they were invested in the story, given their gasp and furious scribbling in the margins, he felt it safe enough to stare at them under the orange-tinged glow of the sunset.

Of course, he forgot about the crowd of his friends who were nudging each other and whispering about his infatuation with you. The whispers reached Wilbur who narrowed his eyes in his twin's direction and made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Once dark hit and the water began to run a little too cold for anyone's taste, they began to wrap themselves up in towels and raid Wilburs snack stashes. The snack distribution was cut off by Wilburs phone, screen lit up with a zoomed in photo of none other than Philza.

DADZA!!! Read the contact name as Wilbur swiped the screen and held the phone between his shoulder and ear, continuing to hand out snacks.

“OI, where in fucks sake are you lot? It’s an hour past the devils ass why i…”

The rest of Phil’s screaming faded as Wilbur walked away to calm his father down.

“AN HOUR PAST THE DEVILS ASS” Y/N screamed with laughter, sending the entire group into raucous peals of giggles.

“Yep, mhhm, we’ll be there” Wilbur walked back towards the group, motioning for everyone to get in the car.

“Yes dad I know, yes, okay we will drop him off. Okay, bye” Hanging up the phone, he ushered people back into the car, holding Tubbo back by his upper arm so that he could sit with easiest access to the door.

After dropping Tubbo off, and then doubling back and driving around town to drop people off at various houses, Technoblade, Tommy and Wilbur were alone in the car with Y/N.

“Here. Here. WIL! Pull over!”

The van screeched to a halt as Y/N clambered over Tommy’s long legs, almost falling out onto the pavement. They leaned against the door of the passenger seat, thanking Wilbur and bidding farewell to the brothers. Just before they stepped away, Technoblade leaned down and kissed the crown of their head where it was leaning against his open window. Their stunned expression was lost in the dark and the window slid shut as Wilbur slammed the gas pedal to make it back in time before his dad’s curfew.

“What the fuck was that”

Technoblade gave him a glare, which lost its effectiveness when paired with the burning red blush flooding his face and neck, highlighted under the harsh white lights of the car. He turned his face away and resigned to staring out the window, the night air filtering through the small crack giving his face a little bit of relief.

“Okay at least tell me, are you together?”

“No.”

“But he likes them!” piped up Tommy from the back seat, looking up from his phone where he was playing a game.

“No I- I don’t” Damnit The crack in his voice gave it away.

Wilbur, sensing that it seemed to be more of a sensitive topic than he thought, decided to drop the subject for the time being, and Tommy was already absorbed back in his game.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence as they raced against time and the rules of Philza Minecraft.

AUTUMN----------------------

School started a few weeks after the pool night, which was followed by many late nights and summer fun by the friends, the knowledge that half of them would be away to college next year heavy in the atmosphere. To say the least, Junior year was not treating Y/N well. They were almost always working on homework, if not doing SAT prep, and they rarely went out with their friends. The only time Technoblade got to see them was during his AP Lit class, and because of it, he considered himself the luckiest man in the world. Ms. Ren’s Literature classroom was the only place Technoblade seemed to see the old Y/N, the one from over the summer who got enthusiastic over books and gave him playful punches when he was a little too mean to their friends. Now, the only Y/N he saw was a stressed, tired person who was always carrying an energy drink in one hand and a stack of homework in the other. Except for in Lit. Y/n’s eyes would brighten as they discussed the reading from the previous night and their legs would jostle Technoblades from under their shared table to show him an annotation they had made. Technoblade assumed they were just rejuvenated from the literature, never once letting the thought cross his mind that maybe, just maybe, he was part of the equation too.

On the rare occasion that they would hang out with their friends, they would be easily prone to tears and every conversation would be redirected to how tired and stressed they were. Of course, Technoblade wanted them to be happy, and felt enormous empathy for his friend in the harshest year of high school, but he had suddenly become hyper-aware that the clock was ticking on his time left with them. He was a senior this year, and while Y/N still had a year left to go, Technoblade would be on his way to college, perhaps out of the country, in less than a year. It wasn’t wrong to want to make the most of his time with them.

It didn’t help that this internal time bomb was also counting down the opportunities he had left to tell them how he felt.

-----

He decided to get to them when they were in a good mood, and more likely to say yes. After Ms. Ren had finished assigning the reading due by Monday, he turned to the beautiful person who sat next to him and muttered in a low voice,

“How’s your weekend looking?”

They looked up with a bright smile and whispered back

“I have tons of homework but I should be able to knock it out with a good day of work. Why? What do you have in mind?”

He knew this was the right time to ask you.

“Just be ready by 4pm on Saturday.”

----

Technoblade sat on the edge of his usually neat bed, now strewn with almost every sweater he owned. He was picking a stray piece of lint from the sweater nearest to him when he saw his brother walk past, then backtrack out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s got you all indecisive?” Wilbur asked, gesturing vaguely to the sweaters and random articles of clothing adorning his room.

“Wait! Is today your date with Y/N?”

“It’s not a date.” grumbled Technoblade.

“Then why are you so stressed about what to wear?” he replied with raised eyebrows.

Technoblade groaned and threw himself on top of the pile of wool on his bed. “I just need this to be perfect. Y/N needs a break, and they deserve everything to be just right.”

“And you want to impress them” sang Wilbur, now nudging Techno aside to sift through his sweaters.

Technoblades noise of indignation was muffled as Wilbur threw a cream colored sweatshirt at his face.

“What about this?”

“I couldn’t find what to wear it with.”

Wilburs sigh rang through Technoblades room as he opened the closet, now in his proper mindset as the family fashion consultant. Garment after garment was thrown in Techno’s general direction, and he leaned and reached to grab them all.

“Try that”

Technoblade walked out of the bathroom to find Wilbur rummaging through his jewelry.

“When did I say it was fine for you to go through my stuff?” asked Technoblade, shoving Wilbur away. Wilbur shrugged in response, motioning for Techno to open his hand so that he could drop his selection of rings and necklaces into his open palm.

As Wilbur walked out the door, he thought he heard a faint “thank you”, and smiled to himself.

-----

“This is elaborate”

“I’m a dynamic man Y/N.”

Y/N laughed at his response to the back seat of Technoblades car, which was filled with “supplies” for the evening.

“That outfit sure is dynamic.”

“Why?” Technoblade asked nervously, drumming slightly on the steering wheel. “Do you like it?”

“I love it! I didn’t think you could get any hotter but you somehow pulled it off!”

Realizing what they said, Y/N’s cheeks flushed a deep red and they began to pick at their flannel. As soon as Technoblades surprise wore off, and the butterflies faded back to the dull sensation that always seemed to linger when he was around them, he let out a snort of laughter. That sent both of them into a fit which continued until Technoblade hit a pothole from laughing so hard.

Y/N’s momentary fear only made them laugh harder, but Technoblade attempted to quell himself before he no longer had four functioning tires.

“Do I get to know where you’re taking me?” Y/N asked. They had driven a little ways out from the city, to the vaguely familiar areas that one only drives by when they’re leaving town.

“Yes.” He replied, slowing the car into a small parking lot. “Because we’re here.”

The pair entered the small bookshop and a bell rang overhead. The store smelled of dust and books and Technoblade saw Y/N breathing the scent in like a breath of new life. Of course, this ended up in a small coughing fit which he pulled them out of with a few pats to their upper back.

“Okay we are on somewhat of a schedule, so I need you to go get a book. Any book, and meet me back at the register in 10 minutes.” He said, grabbing them by the shoulders and making direct eye contact. “Okay, Go!”

And they both got lost in the mazes of words.

At 4:30 sharp, Y/N found Technoblade waiting for them at the register with a stiff red hardcover. He reached out for their book as they reached for their wallet.

“Tech, no, you don’t have to buy me books I can get it myself”

If for nothing else, the way they shortened the already shortened version of his name made his heart stutter, and he was overcome with the sudden urge to buy them every book in this store. But he wordlessly nodded his head ‘no’ and paid for their two books.

As they walked back to the car, Y/N admired the way his jewelry glistened in the sun. The gold necklaces contrasting against the black turtleneck he wore under his sweatshirt made them think of the summer, when his rings would shine under the sun and in the light of their almost nightly group bonfire. Technoblade opened the door for them when they got to the car, pink hair flying in his face because of the wind. Before getting in, Y/N threw their arms around his neck in a hug.

“Thanks”

They mumbled into his neck.

He blamed his pink cheeks on the cold.

-----

“Let me carry something!” Y/N argued as Technoblade led them down the path of a park a little ways away from the bookstore.

“No.” he answered, a basket and three bags dangling from his arms.

The argument continued as they made their way down the paved path, leaves crunching underneath their feet. A little ways into the walk, when the conversation had faded to discussing the latest reading assigned by Ms. Ren, Technoblade stopped Y/N by throwing a tote bag-laden arm against their chest.

“Here.”

He parted the branches that covered a small, unpaved path that led deeper into the trees.

“How do I know you’re not trying to lure me here to kill me?” mused Y/N, already a few steps ahead of the pink-haired man on the pine-straw path.

“Yeah hold on, let me just get my axe out from this basket real quick” deadpanned Technoblade, earning a giggle from Y/N.

A few moments later, the path opened up to a clearing with a few fallen logs and a small brook trickling near the edge.

“This is beautiful Tech! How did you find this?” they asked with an awestruck expression.

He hid the way that his ears flushed with his hair and busied himself laying out the picnic supplies he had dragged all the way out here, mumbling something unintelligible.

Once he was done, he looked up to find an empty clearing, Y/N nowhere to be found.

“Y/N?” he called

He received a response in the form of a small yelp and a rather loud splash. “Over here!”

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, sprinting over to the edge of the stream. Their giggles calmed him a little bit, but didn’t absolve him of all his worry as he subtly looked them over for any injuries.

“I thought the rock would be steady enough to hold me” they pouted, gesturing vaguely at the rock in question, now shiny with water.

Technoblade sighed, rolling his eyes at their antics, but hoisted them up nonetheless. Once they were back on solid ground, he curled his finger around the back of his sweatshirt's neckline and pulled it over his head, almost knocking off his glasses in the process. He missed the way Y/N’s eyes narrowed and focused on the way his black knit turtleneck hugged his figure, tucked into the dark brown trousers Wilbur had dug out of his closet just hours previously.

“Are you warm?” asked Y/N with an incredulous look, teeth slightly chattering.

“It’s for you, dumbass. You’re almost sure to get sick in those wet clothes.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered at the gesture, and at the way Technoblade shushed them when they tried to argue.

He turned away as Y/N shed their dripping flannel and replaced it with the sweatshirt, warmed by his own body heat.

When he turned back, he almost lost his breath again. Seeing them in his sweatshirt, the sleeves dangling past their fingertips and their hair a little tousled from pulling the garment over their head, messed with him just a little bit. He ignored the way that his cold-nipped nose was turning redder and redder and instead gently picked up their hand to guide them over to where he had set up the picnic, next to a towering tree with a thick trunk.

Both of them were hyper-aware of the way that his fingers held theirs, and the warmth that seemed to radiate from their touch. Neither one of them wanted to let go, but as they plopped down onto the picnic blanket sitting on the ground, their grip fell apart.

The loss of contact made the October day seem colder.

The muffled crunching of the leaves under their butts filled the air as they settled into a comfortable position and began digging through the picnic basket Technoblade had brought with food. The tension in the air slowly faded as they began to eat and the atmosphere filled with the joyous conversation of the two painfully oblivious teenagers.

When they had both finished eating, Technoblade pulled out the bag that he had brought from the bookstore and handed Y/N their book. The smile that graced their lips as they mumbled out another ‘thank you’ brought another wave of butterflies down Technoblades stomach. He pulled out his own book and made himself comfortable against the thick tree trunk behind him. Y/N reached into their back pocket and pulled out a ballpoint pen, the cap of the pen riddled with chew marks.

The damn pen.

They stuck it between their teeth and let it hang off of the right side of their mouth. Technoblade felt his chest heat up as they nudged him over to share his spot leaning against the tree. He opened his phone and hit play on a mix of Arctic Monkeys and Gang of Youths, before leaning back to where his shoulder was pressed with theirs and opened his book.

Time seemed to forget its rules in this quiet little forest, with just Y/N and Technoblade lost in their separate worlds of words. The peace was only ever disturbed by Y/N occasionally scribbling something down in the margin of their book, to which Technoblade would demand to see, and they would fall into a small discussion about the topic.

These occasions slowly began to wane off until Technoblade felt Y/N lean their head against him with a thud. He looked down to see them fast asleep, half leaning on his shoulder with the pen still clutched between their fingers. He took note of the way the pen was balanced like a cigarette and the small puffs of air following their cold breath resembled smoke. Ignored the way his heart was almost convulsing on itself, he chose to wrap his arm around them and savour the moment.

Because he was aware that before he knew it, it would be over.

WINTER---------------------------

The student media center had a hushed atmosphere to it, as people took advantage of their last afternoon to study for semester finals. Winter break would let out the next day, but for the overwhelmed Juniors and Seniors now crowding the library, the excitement would not set in until they quelled their nervousness over the last final of the semester.

One of the study rooms situated in the back was now crowded with the notorious friend group as they crammed for their last final. Fundy, Jack and Niki were trading around their history notes, Wilbur and Minx were arguing over the proper situation of a unit circle, and Technoblade was flash quizzing Y/N on the Polyatomic ions. Their frantic studying was interrupted by their friend, George, who had gotten bored of watching his two best friends during their last football practice of the semester. He quietly walked in and took a seat in the corner, pulling out a notebook and studying something or the other.

“Why aren't Dream and Sapnap here cramming with us?” Minx asked George.

“They have their ‘weightlifting’ final tomorrow” seethed George, most likely jealous of his friends’ somewhat pointless final.

Everyone laughed, and some groans of similar jealousy rang through the air right before the cracking loudspeaker of the school crunched to life, announcing that the doors would close at 6:00. Y/N looked down at their watch face, which read 5:45.

“Fuck, I’m never going to learn these charges! Don’t even get me started on the fact that I don’t have the solubility rules memorized!” squeaked Y/N in frustration. Everyone gave them a sympathetic look, knowing the rigorous emotional and mental demands of taking AP Chemistry.

“Don’t worry, you still have the whole night to study!” consoled Fundy.

Technoblade felt his heart break at the way their eyes filled with tears of frustration.

“My siblings scream way too much, I can never concentrate at home”

“Come study at our house!” exclaimed Wilbur. “We can kick Tommy out so he won’t bother you!”

Wilbur sensed their hesitation and cut in before they could say ‘no’

“Come on, Dad won’t mind, he loves you! And it gives us an excuse to send Tommy out!”

Y/N turned their head in questioning to Technoblade, who grunted and nodded his head.

“I mean, if you’re sure”

Eager nodding.

“Thanks so much Wil!”

---

It was 11:50 and Phil’s living room resembled something closer to an FBI clue board, with flashcards and chemistry notes strewn on every possible surface. Wilbur had retired to bed after reviewing his Calculus notes one last time, and Tommy was spending the night at Tubbo’s. Phil leaned against the doorway and watched his son coach his best friend through the last few chapters of the textbook with a smile on his face.

“Make sure not to go to sleep too late! You need enough sleep for your final!” he called, retreating up the stairs.

Y/N checked their watch and sighed at the time. “I should get going soon.” they mumbled, beginning to collect their notes.

“Stay the night” suggested Technoblade, pulling a blanket over their shoulders to protect them from the December chill that seemed ever-present, even with the crackling fireplace illuminating the room.

“I can’t-” A yawn cut their sentence “I can’t stay, I don't have anything and I’ve wasted enough of your time already”

Technoblade took them by the shoulders and looked them in the eyes, albeit having to lean down. “You can never waste my time”

Shivers ran through Y/N’s tired body and they offered him a weak smile.

He plucked the pen that was hanging from their mouth out and feigned disgust as he wiped it on their shirt, before throwing it in the pile of stationary by his feet.

“How about you stay for a hot chocolate?”

The invitation was too hard to resist so they gave in, as long as it was “only ten more minutes”.

Technoblade filled two mugs from the pot of the beverage that Phil had left on the stove, and topped it with marshmallows and whipped cream.

Y/N took the mug from him with a ‘thank you!’, and led the way back to the living room to nestle under the warmth of the fireplace. The pair were both exhausted from the day of studying, and chose to sip their beverages in silence. Before either of them knew it, they were both asleep under Y/N’s blanket, cuddled up against the cold of the night.

---

They woke up to the banging of Wilbur running down the stairs.

“Shit, you two are still asleep?”

Y/N jumped up, knocking over their empty mug in the process. “Fuck, what time is it?” they asked, urgently rummaging around for their bag.

“8:00”

“What time is your final?” grumbled Technoblade, still half-asleep with no intention to get up until his final later that day.

“8:20” they whined, almost breaking down.

“Hey, it’s fine, go get clothes from my room, take anything you want. I’ll drive you.” said Technoblade in a calming voice.

Y/N looked at him with desperate eyes and thanked him before retracing the familiar path to his bedroom.

Technoblade cracked his back and followed Wilbur into the kitchen, intending to make Y/N a nutritious breakfast and pack them a lunch, but was met with Wilburs smirking face.

“What’s the deal?” said Technoblade in his monotonous low, pulling things from out of the fridge.

“Are we going to ignore that you and Y/N slept together?”

“Gross you perv, we just fell asleep studying”

Wilburs smart-ass response was cut off by the arrival of the person in question, clad in one of Technoblades sweaters and sweatpants and ripping their fingers through their hair to attempt to tame it.

Technoblade ignored the all-too-familiar flutter of his heart at seeing them in his clothes and handed them a yogurt bowl he put together. “Let’s go, you can eat it in the car.”

They definitely broke laws driving at breakneck speed, but they pulled into the school parking lot at 8:15 and jumped out of the car, Technoblade following them to make sure they made it to the Chemistry classroom on time. With a minute and a half to spare, they arrived at the door to the classroom, earning a sigh of relief from both of them.

Dr. Yachtrong ushered Y/N into the classroom, but not before Technoblade placed a kiss on their forehead and wished them good luck. They entered the classroom in a daze, which they quickly shook off when the tests were passed out.

---

The final bell rang for the day and the cheers rang around the school, drowning out the crunchy loudspeaker announcements to “have a good Christmas” and to “make good decisions”. Y/N had headed off to their last few classes following the Chemistry final, which had gone as good as one could expect a Chemistry exam to go. They were fairly sure they had passed which at this point, was a major win. As they left the History hallway, they saw their friend Karl leaving the art classroom.

“Karl!” they waved him down.

“HEY! Y/N!!!” he giggled excitedly “Schools out!”

“I know!”

Excited chatter filled the hallways and they bumped into Sapnap, Punz, and Dream leaving the weights room.

“How was your weightlifting final?” snickered Y/N

Punz answered with a slight push to their head. The group was shot out at the front courtyard, where almost all of their other friends were waiting.

The celebratory mood was punctuated by Karl inviting everyone over for an “Epic School Sucks Party” at his house later that night.

Y/N looked around, searching for the pink-haired man that had been flooding their thoughts more than usual lately.

He had been acting differently, nervous even, since the day they fell asleep on him at the park. Y/N was only scared last night's incident would make it worse.

“He’s probably finishing up his Latin stuff” murmured Wilbur, leaning down to their ear.

Y/N’s ears burnt a bright red upon knowing that Wilbur knew who they were looking for. They looked up to answer, but he had already gotten immersed in a conversation with Quackity and George.

The man in question came out of the front doors of the building and made a beeline for their cluster of people upon seeing them. Y/N couldn’t help but admire the cuffs he wore on his slightly pointed ears, and the way his long pink hair fell behind his-

“Oi Y/N is that Technoblades sweater?”

Screw you Minx

“Y/N spent a surprise night over last night” snickered Wilbur, wiggling his eyebrows.

“It's. Not. Like. That.” screeched Y/N, punctuating each word with a smack to Wilbur, somewhat drowned in the laughs and gasps of everyone in their group.

“Why are we hitting Wilbur and can I join?” asked Technoblade once he integrated himself into the tangle of people. The laughs hushed as everyone turned to look between Y/N and Technoblade.

“What?”

-----

The heat of Niki’s curling iron sent warm shivers down Y/N’s neck, a grateful contrast to the harsh December chill plaguing the outdoors. She blew gently on the warm hair before letting it all fall back, tousling it to break up the curls.

“Thanks Niki!” said Y/N gratefully, examining themselves in the mirror. “You’re going to have to teach me how to do this someday.”

Niki laughed, already standing in front of the bathroom mirror to apply her eyeliner. With one eye closed, she spoke to the person now standing behind her, checking their outfit from different angles.

“So really, what’s going on between you and Technoblade?”

She knew of their intense crush on the pink-haired boy, which had started somewhere between 8th grade and freshman year, but she also knew that Y/N tended to be more closed off about their deep personal life.

Y/N sighed, almost in disappointment. “Nothing. And that’s the problem.”

Due to Niki’s sympathetic look thrown their way, they fell down a rabbit hole of ranting which led them to where they were now; on the floor beside Niki’s bed with Y/N’s head in her lap.

“He always acts so weird around me. One minute he’s holding my hand or kissing my forehead, and the next he won't even look at me, or only answers in short sentences. And it stresses me out because I think he hates me, but then he does shit like buying me books just to go read in a forest with him, or staying up all night with me to study for my Chemistry final, and I just-” They took a deep breath, containing their rambling.

“I just get more confused.”

----------

Karls party was in full swing by the time Niki and Y/N got there. They were met at the door by Sapnap and Quackity, who for some reason were handcuffed to each other, and were both giggling and flushed. Y/N and Niki hung their coats on the rack by the door and walked into the festive atmosphere of the house, seeing familiar faces in every corner.

Despite the rowdy environment and the deafening noise, the party was relatively small, consisting of only 20 or so of Karls friends.

They followed Quackity and Sapnap into the living room where a semi-circle of people was lounging on various couches, passing around a blunt and playing what seemed to be truth or dare.

Ah. That’s where the handcuffs came from.

Niki and Y/N decided to play, Niki offering to go fetch them both drinks in the kitchen as Y/N found their place in the circle. To their surprise, Technoblade was there, seemingly uninterested in the game and more invested in something he was doing on his phone. Upon seeing Y/N, he gave them a smile, cheeks flushed with alcohol, and gestured to the small spot between him and the couch armrest. All eyes followed Y/N as they perched on the armrest, mumbling a small ‘hi!’ to Technoblade.

Niki returned with two drinks in hand and shared a knowing glance with Y/N, as well as a miniscule smile, before handing them their drink and taking a seat on a cushion next to Jack and Minx.

“Okay okay, In honor of our new guests arriving, Y/N, truth or dare?”

Y/N knew by the looks everyone was giving them that choosing truth would not be the best option.

“Dare.”

A small sigh of disappointment left Karls lips before a mischievous light came into his eyes and he perked up again. “I dare you to sit in Technoblade’s lap”

Snickers echoed across the group as Technoblade looked up at the sound of his name. He looked up to where Y/N was balancing themself on the edge of the couch, and with some burst of courage, that was probably induced by the alcohol, he wrapped his arm around their waist to tug them into his lap with a squeak of surprise.

After recovering from their initial embarrassment, Y/N turned to the man whose lap they were in. “Techno, truth or dare?”

He huffed but quietly breathed out “Truth”, suddenly very aware of how close their face was to his. After a few brief seconds of eye contact which seemed to last an eternity, they stuttered out

“Umm, do you,- actually, how did, how did they get you to play? This game... I mean?”

“BOO! WHAT A BORING FOOKIN QUESTION!” called Minx from the cushion she was on.

His response of how he didn’t mean to get dragged in to this “stupid middle schoolers game” was slightly slurred as he took a big chug of whatever liquid was floating around his red solo cup.

This worried Y/N. They never saw Technoblade drink more than enough to get him slightly tipsy, but they brushed it off on end-of-the-semester excitement. In any case, they would confront him when they got the opportunity to talk to him alone.

---

Said opportunity arose after the Pizza arrived, and most people began to file into Karls movie room to watch whatever garbage show he decided on running. Y/N stayed back, intending to have full access to the pizza and Technoblade, noticing this, stayed with them. Y/N hopped up onto a counter and pulled the pizza boxes to them.

“Hey Tech?”

“Heh?”

“Are you okay? I haven't seen you drink this much before?” they asked, running a concerned hand through his hair before pressing it to his forehead to check how hot he was.

His eyes closed and he nuzzled into their touch.

“I guess I’m just nervous.”

“Nervous? What do you have to be nervous about? It’s winter break” they answered, a small smile on their beautiful face.

This was his chance.

“I have to start applying for colleges.”

Fuck, he missed it.

-----

The food brought a new bought of energy to everyone at the party, and by 3 in the morning, the celebration was still heavy in the air. Everyone thanked whatever brought Karl’s parents to buy a house far removed from any close neighborhoods, so the noise wouldn’t earn them a police visit.

Loud music blared from the speakers in the living room, which had been cleared of furniture to make space for the energetic teenagers.

Y/N took turns dancing with Niki, Minx, and Jack before being stolen away by Sapnap who spun them around until they almost threw up. Eventually, Y/N ended up on the outskirts of the dancefloor, where they saw their favorite apathetic pig-boy leaning against a corner, snickering at everyone who was embarrassing themselves in their drunken haze.

“WANNA DANCE?” asked Y/N leaning towards him to enunciate over the music.

How could he say no? When they were looking up at him with those big, bright eyes and a slight sheen of sweat over their face.

-----

The party began to dissipate nearing the hours of dawn. Around 5, people began trickling out. Except for the select few who had decided to just crash with Karl.

Technoblade and Wilbur parked a little ways away from their house, walking the rest of the way and ushering each other up the tree by Wilburs bedroom to sneak back in.

It was locked.

“You dimwit, didn’t you unlock the window?”

“Of course I did you arse, where do you think I snuck out from?”

Their bickering was interrupted by a small tap on the glass by none other than a smirking Tommy.

“Leave it to him to only wake up when he wants to annoy us”

“Tommy, let us in.”

Tommy made a rubbing motion with his index finger and thumb. Looking at Wilbur and sighing, Technoblade pulled his wallet out and held up a 10.

Tommy made a ‘more’ motion

20. Then 40. Then 50.

“So generous of you lads, come on in!” he giggled, snatching the money from his brother and leaving the window open for the two to clamber in awkwardly.

Technoblade snuck back into his room, stripping off his sweaty clothes and falling onto the mattress. Before he blacked out, he saw two notifications come in.

BitchBur: I took these pictures tn, thought u might want them ;) (8 images attached)

And

Y/N <3: I hope you figure out the college situation! <3 let me know if you can hang out sometime :D

He opened Wilburs text to find a collection of candid pictures Wilbur had snapped over the course of the night. One of Y/N in his lap, a few of them laughing together over pizza, a few of them on the dance floor, and what had to be his favorite: a picture of them kissing his cheek as a ‘good luck’ for his arm wrestle with Dream.

A smile creeped onto his face and he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for his brother. He set the last picture as his wallpaper before turning off his phone and falling into a realm of blackness.

SPRING------------------

“That was my very last AP Exam!” exclaimed Y/N, walking through the door of the coffee house where all their friends were lounging.

The small shop erupted with cheers as they celebrated everyone finishing their school year. The cheers eventually died out, though, as the realization sunk in. Tomorrow was graduation.

The seniors in the group, Wilbur, Technoblade, Minx and Fundy were all going off to college.

Wilbur to England, Fundy to the Netherlands, and Minx to Ireland. The one person who hadn’t decided on a college yet was Technoblade.

“Why do you all have to leave the country?” whined Y/N.

A chorus of similar sentiments left the other juniors who were scattered around a few tables that had been pushed together.

As the conversation descended into dorms and expenses, Y/N received a text from Technoblade. The shock of the ‘ding’ made the pen that had been balancing between their lips clatter onto the floor.

Apathetic pig-boy: come outside

Y/N looked around, not having noticed that Technoblade had disappeared from the table. Taking advantage of the conversation everyone else was immersed in, they quietly snuck out, but not without avoiding Wilburs keen eyes, which narrowed upon realizing his brother was not at the table.

They wandered outside, finding Technoblade sitting at one of the outdoor tables covered by the awning.

“My Yale email came in.” he said as soon as he saw them walk outside.

They jumped with barely contained joy. “What did it say?”

“I wanted you to be here when I opened it.”

Everyone knew that Technoblades dream college was Yale. He had talked about it ever since he was a little kid, screaming about Greek mythology on the school playground. Y/N knew that it was Technoblades biggest ambition to study literature at one of the most renowned colleges in the world, but they still felt a twinge of sadness. On top of losing half their friends, they couldn’t lose the one person that meant the most to them too.

“Open it!”

Y/N leaned against the back of Technoblades chair, almost falling over his shoulder as they watched the loading icon on the college’s website.

Technoblade clicked on the notification and they both read it together

Congratulations! We are glad to inform you…

“THAT YALE UNIVERSITY HAS DECIDED TO ACCEPT YOUR APPLICATION! TECH I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!” Screamed Y/N, wrapping their arms around his shocked figure. They placed a million kisses all over his face, gushing about how proud they were of him, ignoring the gut wrenching feeling inside of them.

“What’s the screaming about? Did you two finally get together?” Asked Wilbur as the group flooded out of the coffee shop to see what the commotion was about.

“Yale accepted me.” mumbled Technoblade, just loud enough for them to hear.

The cheers that followed his announcement almost made their small hometown collapse. Congratulations were exchanged and backs were pat, and in the mess, Y/N managed to sneak off to the side. The only person who noticed was Niki, who followed them to the corner of the parking lot where they were kicking at the asphalt with their converse. She sat down, and the two rested in silence, the April wind blowing their hair all over the place.

“He’s leaving.” He’s leaving me. They wanted to say, but they didn't.

Niki gave her friend a small side hug, somehow interpreting the sentence accurately. “He’s pursuing his dreams Y/N, you know he doesn’t want to leave you.”

“How do I make him stay? It’s selfish and I’d feel like a bitch but Niki I don’t think I can live without him.”

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“You need to tell him how you feel.”

----

The next day brought sunny skies and the enthusiastic atmosphere of graduation. They had all managed to snag themselves some graduation tickets to see their friends finish high school.

Jack, Niki, and Y/N were sitting in a Wendy’s parking lot, waiting for the clock to hit 11:45 so they could start making their way to school. It seemed empty without the Seniors of the group, as they were all at school getting ready for the ceremony. Y/N voiced this concern aloud, to which Jack responded, “We’ll have to get used to it. This is how it’s going to be next year.”

And the three fell into silence, sullenly dipping their fries into their frostys.

----

Jack, Niki, and Y/N let themselves be jostled into school with the crowds of emotional parents and kids who were already bored of the event. They found decent seats, near the front aisle and set their belongings down.

Not a moment later, they were greeted by Philza, who filed in with the rest of the boys extended family to sit beside them.

The dimming of the lights led to hushed whispers erupting from the previously rowdy crowd.

Procedure came and went, the salutatorian and valedictorian giving their respective addresses to the crowd, the speech of the somewhat bored principal, and finally,

“Without further ado, presenting the Graduating Class of 2021!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd as names began to be called.

Within the first five minutes, the boredom began to set in and Jack began a game pigeon game, which Phil demanded to be added to. The four played the digital card game until they were pulled out of their concentration by a familiar name being called. They erupted into cheers as Fundy walked across the stage to pick up his diploma and shake the Principal’s hand. The process was repeated until Minx, her eyes shining as she shook the principal's hand earnestly, then flipped him off quickly behind his back, which sent the auditorium into a fit of laughter.

Person after person was called up, until...

“Technoblade Minecraft”

Philza almost cried. He stood on his chair, screaming in excitement for his son which made the boy in question flush as he collected his diploma and took a rather rushed leave off the stage, but not before seeing the heart that Y/N made with their fingers in his direction.

The same general act happened during Wilburs announcement, except that he laughed and gave his dad a cheering motion with his hands.

---

The group spilled out onto the lawn of the school, congratulating people they knew when they saw them. Technoblade and Wilbur joined their family, receiving hugs from a very emotional Tommy. Y/N, Niki, and Jack waited behind for their friends to finish up with their families before tackling them in hugs. Screams and whoops came from the puddle of people on the floor, everyone yelling things to each other. The atmosphere was charged with happiness, and relief, and one couldn’t help but feel elation despite the bittersweet nature of graduation.

“Alright mates, party at my house!” boomed Philza over the noise.

The infamous graduation party. They had planned the two-part party in middle school, when they had had their first sleepover at the group's “hub”, aka Philza’s house. Since then, the party had become a reality and the first part would be executed tonight. The next being, of course, when the remaining half of the group graduated.

A marquis was set up in Phil’s garden, now uncluttered and full of spring blossoms. It was such a different atmosphere than it had been last summer, when their bonfires would stretch out into the early hours of the morning.

Food laden tables were scattered around the marquis, and to everyone's delight, a chocolate fountain rested on one of them.

After collecting food and gifts from various guests, the group found themselves sitting under the shade of a large tree with a rickety old treehouse balancing on it, which Tommy and Tubbo were attempting to devise a plan to get into with the help of their friend Ranboo, who didn’t seem as enthusiastic about the idea as the others.

“My flight leaves next week.” sighed Minx, leaning against Niki’s shoulder.

“I’ll be out of here by July the latest”

“Phil’s taking us to London next week and I’ll just be staying”

Everyone turned to Technoblade to reveal when he would be leaving for college.

“I’m going to Connecticut a week before the beginning of the term”

“So how long will you be home this summer?” Y/N asked, setting down their cookie.

“Between travelling and dorm set-up, I’ll probably only be here for about two weeks total.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as they pushed their head into Technoblades chest.

“I just-” sniffle “I just can’t believe you’re all leaving!” they cried, muffled by Technoblades button down.

This sent everyone into a fit of tears as they all began hugging each other for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

The moment was interrupted by Phil, who came out of the house with a camera and various props. Encouraging everyone to gather around and take pictures. Everyone scuffled around to fix their disheveled appearances and began making their way to Phils makeshift photo booth.

“Tech- wait!” called Y/N, pulling him back by the forearm. “Your hair”

They put pressure on his shoulders to get him to lean down so that they could fix his stray hairs.

Right then, looking at the way Y/N’s shoes sank into the ground and feeling their light touch in his hair, he decided. I have to tell them. This is my last chance.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I-” deep breaths, “I need you to-”

“Come on, lovebirds get in the picture!” called Phil, walking over to drag them to where everyone else was.

Y/N gave him an apologetic look, woven with the silent promise of later.

Damnit Dad.

----

The pictures had lasted what felt like eons, but between the corny props and the harsh afternoon sunlight, they held valuable memories.

But Technoblade had no interest in them at the moment, as he dragged Y/N behind the trunk of the tree they had sat at before.

The sunlight filtering through the leaves made Y/N’s face all that much more beautiful, and Technoblade struggled to tear his attention away to focus on telling them. He gathered up his courage and opened his mouth to speak.

But the only thing that came out was “OW!”

As a pinecone bonked off his head and rolled away on the ground, leaving chips of it in his hair.

“Look out below!” Called Tubbo from somewhere above them. So they managed to get in. Damnit.

Y/N took his hand and led him to the other side of the tree, away from the boys’ field of destruction. They sat down gently, pulling Technoblade down with them to pluck the pieces of pinecone out of his hair.

“Here. Distraction free! Now tell me what you’ve been trying to say because there’s something I need to tell you too.”

That gave Technoblade the perfect opportunity to gather his nerves. “You go first”

“No, it’s fine you!”

“No you go!”

It seemed as if the stars had collided and sent out particles so many eons ago with the knowledge that everything would lead up to these two kids coming to the same conclusion at the same time.

“I love you”

Their eyes met as they stared, wide-eyed and gaping-mouthed at each other. Overcoming the initial shock, they began to ramble.

“I didn’t think you felt the same way because you always got quiet around me and then you woul-”

“Can I kiss you?” Technoblade interrupted them, not really hearing their rambling through the buzz going through his brain.

They nodded shyly in response as he wrapped his hand around the back of their neck to pull them dizzyingly, tauntingly closer. He looked into their eyes one more time to make sure they were serious, but Y/N was already closing the gap between their lips. They hoisted themselves into his lap and gripped his hair to bring him impossibly closer.

But alas, in this group of people, nothing goes unnoticed or undisturbed.

“EW! TECHNO’S KISSING Y/N!” screamed Tommy from the balcony of the treehouse which resulted in whoops and cheers from everyone at the party.

“FINALLY!” yelled someone amongst the crowd.

Y/N felt their ears burn a bright red as they buried their face into Techno’s neck.

“Yeah Y/N! Get some!”

“Oh fuck off!”

A/N: i hope u guys liked it :D, also this is my first time writing with they/them pronouns so if i made a mistake pls don’t hesitate to correct me!

#c!techno #technoblade #technoblade x reader #mcyt x reader #technoblade fluff #technofluff

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kimyoonmiauthor · 2 years ago

Text

How literary agents can help Neurodiverse/Neurodivergent People (and everyone) query

The idea for this came from: https://twitter.com/cheyannemonkman/status/1531243041373028354

The list is my own compiled from different writers and experience with querying and being rejected.

Agents are human too, and often they don’t know what a writer’s life is like, since not all of them are writers. Also, busy. Also underpaid.

So since I’m neurodivergent, but not on the autistic spectrum, I thought I would help bridge the gap and list a wishlist of things writers who are neurodivergent would like to see from agents to help us and other writers query you. And no, I’m not aiming to vilify agents, etc. Just hoping to bring together two groups to help everyone. Sometimes accommodating disability helps everyone.

Introduction: I date far enough back in time that the only way to submit was to get a big book from the Library or purchase one and then go line by line and find places to submit. Yeah.

So this kind of thing wasn’t industry standard for obvious reasons. How are you supposed to do it in 100-250 words? I understand you very much that’s impossible.

However, as we converted to digital and things settled down, I think we can upgrade a bit and help everyone out while being accommodating to those with disability/neurodivergent. And no, I’m not name calling for agents who don’t do this. I’m asking you consider it. The Author Wishlist for agents:

How up to date is your Publisher’s Marketplace, website and Mswl?

Put up a date when you update the genres, etc or aim to update all at once so they aren’t out of alignment.

How do you want to be addressed specifically?

Ms. Mr,. Miss., Mrs.

Honorific, no honorific?

Name:

Full name, surname, first name?

List pronouns?

In case we need to talk to another agent in the agency.

Form of address:

Hello, Hi, Dear? Don’t care.

Query Letter formatting

Some agents are dead set against putting the word count info first. Some say definitely put the book description first. Which are you? Should we put how we found you, if relevant first or last?

Our Credentials? First or last?

Author biography

Only include if it has writing/life accomplishments relevant to the manuscript?

Y/N

Hobbies?

Y/N

Sentence limit?

Y/N

Hard Word Limit?

Some agents say a fantasy over 110K--will not look at it. Others say send whatever--Sara Maas got in with a 250k manuscript. Which one are you? Where are your hard word limits on fully edited manuscripts for the genres you rep?

Trigger Warnings?

Should it be in the Query letter, with the full manuscript request, synopsis and/or cover letter.

Yes/No. If you want specific types especially... up to you.

If you don’t list it, it makes it really, really hard on writers to divine. And some agents, like Janet Reid say a hard no. Make it obvious.

How long do you want the synopsis?

1 page, 2 pages, 4-5?

As noted by Vanessa MacLaren-Wray (Added with permission) (Dec 27)

Is the synopsis length dependent on single or double spacing?

Most say double, some some say single. Which is it?

Will you accept manuscripts that are not conflict narrative 3/5 act?

yes/no If you have no clue what I’m talking about: https://www.kimyoonmiauthor.com/post/641948278831874048/worldwide-story-structures

If the author plays with the story structure to fit their marginalization, such as being Neurodivergent mental health, etc, other than the 3/5 act, will you auto-reject?

Yes/no

When will we get our query answers back?

When is it Dead on arrival? 3 months? 6 months? 10 months? If you plan not to answer at all, tell us a specific cut off date.

If you’re requesting a full, please list if you would like the epilogue and author notes and when we should expect to hear back before poking you.

No, really, the industry rules became fuzzy after switching to digital. Even pros aren’t sure anymore. It used to be a hard no. But now it’s a fuzzy yes, maybe no. Also doc, pdf, etc.

Are you a mood reader?

Might prevent retractions. Don’t blast it on Twitter--update your website. Your twitter post won’t last. You know what does? The mswl and your website.

How do you like to work with authors?

I really appreciate agents who are up front about this. Hold hands type, edit it? Just sell it? etc.

Also, I have to note, if you’re open to diversity, be explicit about it and include the books you would like in your mswl AND in your reading list.

Diversity statements that you really are prepared to work with. If you’ve read Fault in Your Stars, but haven’t really read Sitting Pretty, people will notice. If you’re calling for PoC books, but your top three books of all time are white cishet male, people are less likely to believe you. I get the pressure bias--when asked people tend to list white cishet abled male books. But if repeatedly challenged and you fail, it’s not likely writers will believe you. You’re asking for PoC books, you should list PoC books and show familiarity by being able to rattle off story structures and fundamentally be able to tell how they work (better than the list above.) Same with disability, queer, etc. Show your capability to sell those books, not by your client list only, but by what you read for pleasure. Because privilege qualifying exists and make your place a safe, warm and fuzzy place to be.

Manuscript Format

The old conventions are two hyphens for a dash, dumb quotes, and let the typographers deal with things like italics, so underline. Some agents like this style and like to say, “Standard manuscript style.”

But there is a new convention where the dash is represented by the dash, the quotes are smart, and you use italics for italics. This is called, “Standard manuscript style.”

Some agents scoff and blast on twitter, “Why are you giving me your address?”

While others are saying, “Absolutely give me your address on your doc manuscript.”

And this is called, “Standard manuscript style.”

And then you see the problem here. You agents don’t agree what “Standard Manuscript style” is. And it’s only changed in the last 7 years (2017-ish, old Manuscript style was more widely accepted). And you KNOW how long it takes to sometimes get especially diverse books to be noticed.

So kindly tell us which camp you belong to in the “Standard manuscript style.” Especially if you care about manuscript style on these features.

Small Note about Document Formats: Accept ODFs

Accepting odfs is free. Open Office is free to download and cross platform/OS compatible. Sometimes people can’t afford Word. And Word is not free on all platforms. Sometimes exporting to Word corrupts the file, such as the case with Google Docs-->docx files (it removes double spacing, etc)

It costs you nothing to accept odf files and helps those who might not be able to afford Word on their machine to have access to give you files.

https://www.openoffice.org/download/

Please consider nixing all REQUIRED comps

https://www.kimyoonmiauthor.com/post/702003546640547840/philosophically-and-academically-why-im-against

Longer post is there explaining why in academic, marketing and writing history terms. But the biggest take away, I would think is that it is discriminatory towards people who have diversity--If you are calling for diversity, while asking for comps, you are limiting your clients and advertising you aren’t good at marketing. Some of our books simply do not exist, but if they were out there, they would work and sell. If you want to test the writer’s marketing skill, then there are much better metrics than comps. Comps should stay on Twitter and in conventions, though Elevator Pitches are better. (Added later than the initial post)

Level of Personalization (added from Vanessa MacLaren-Wray @CometaryTales on Twitter)

Some agents hate it and find it “creepy” and rather that “you get to the point”.

But others like things like “Stickers” and “Oh we went to the same college.”

While others are in between that point and want something more business professional such as “We met at X event/convention/conversed online.”

Do you need the how and why we chose you? Or would you prefer more hands off?

(Added later than the initial post)

Conclusion

If you think this is too long to post, you can post an example of a fake one with formatting. If you don’t care, explicitly state that. Some agents out there are very strict on these things, but the thing is--writers can’t read your mind. The standards have shifted in the digital age and it’s not consistent as it used to be. And even if we could read your mind, in most science fiction we have to be in the proximity of you to do so. So if you really care that much, help us help you so we don’t get rejected for things we can’t divine, and you get to enjoy all of the query letters and such from people who love following directions exactly how you like them.

Also complaining on Twitter about writers when you *didn’t* put it into any available material like your website, mswl or Publisher’s marketplace, honestly isn’t that helpful for neurodivergentpeople or much of anyone. I *do* get that it’s deeply satisfying, but it doesn’t help us to do better by you. We can’t read every tweet, especially those of us with PTSD, ADD, ADHD or sensory issues. It’s too much input. Invisible rules help no one and those of us who are neurodivergent might look down on you for it. If it matters that much to you and your well-being please, please put it somewhere accessible. Blasting people for things they don’t know about you and striking them publicly doesn’t look very professional to me, but then I’m neurodivergent, so maybe my perspective is different from yours.

Either way accommodating neurodivergente people is helping everyone.

#literary agents #neurodiversity #neurodiverse #disability helps abled people #querying #neurodivergent

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refurbishedgray · 3 years ago

Text

Point of Contact

Reader x Tech. Maybe we get feisty and it’s reader x Crosshair, too. In this house, we like both.

Multi-part fic; probably NSFW; f!reader (she/her pronouns)

**Updates: I’ll tag you if you holler

Summary:

“No good ever comes to the Republic from Banking Clan business,” Hunter tells them, “Let’s get this done and get home, boys.”

Arriving on Scipio with the unhelpful directive of, “be discreet, but do whatever it takes,” the Bad Batch find themselves at the mercy of a stony representative whose allegiances lie with the best deal.

Or, the one where Tech and Crosshair think the reader is as intense as she is pretty.

**************************************

Part One

The office is too empty, too bright. The merciless glare of Scipio’s sun cuts across the room, gleaming unpleasantly from the gilded corners of all the fine furniture and glass. A corner office, inherited from an out-maneuvered relic of the past.

All light and no warmth, you think, not for the first time. Never any warmth. In your early years with the Banking Clan, being stationed here had felt suspiciously like a punishment you hadn’t deserved, a proving ground when you had already proven so much. These days, however, you’ve come to understand that the frigid peaks standing vigil beyond your window are a reminder of how far you have climbed.

Now, as you shift in your chair, the expensive Corellian leather barely squeaking beneath you, you squint past the harsh light filtering in from the floor to ceiling window at your back. It’s all pristine snow on those peaks. Icy. Easy to slip if the cold didn’t kill you first.

Yes, you had climbed and clawed your way up these proverbial mountains. And like the man who last haunted this office, it has left you with so very far to fall.

The early days had been simpler. Smile. Look pretty. Never forget what can be saved for later. You hadn’t forgotten. Beyond the pale blue sky, twinkling out of sight, are worlds fraught with battles, littered with unsuccessful or unlucky tacticians from two sides of a conflict that won’t ever be ended, not truly. You have always preferred to keep your strategizing corporate. Clean.

A frown drags at the corners of your mouth at the uncharacteristic foray into reminiscence of the…

The…

A phrase comes to mind and you allow yourself a small, private smile against the sunlight. The bad old days.

Since then, things have always been kept tidy.

Until now.

An unwanted spur of concern digs in behind your chest as your gaze turns from the window to sweep over the room. To your dismay, you realize why, and realize too clearly that the concern is not solely for yourself.

He should be here.

Things were less empty when he was around, a relic in his own right and your pride and joy and confidant. How proud you had been when you had been informed that you would require a bodyguard. “A mark of success if there ever was one,” you had told the few family members you kept in contact with, of which there were very few, upon being informed of the recommendation after your previous promotion. “Aren’t you proud?” you had wanted to ask. But you had not asked. Better not to make the query when the answer was always so heavy and obvious.

He had become your one and only friend. But he, too, is absent now, and upon permitting the observation, your office seems at once less empty and instead, guttingly, horribly hollow. Two rotations it’s been. Two rotations to give into the inconvenience of noticing.

No, no, you think. You had noticed. Admitting it, that is the phrase that would be more accurate, but if it makes you feel less or more weak, you find you cannot decipher the bitterness creeping up your tongue.

Rising from your seat, you at once miss the meager warmth provided by the leather as the cool office air licks at you. Once upon a time, you had comforted yourself with the promise that one day, you would get used to the cold here. It was one of the few lies you allotted yourself over the years. Crossing the office, the marble floors as white and frosted as the mountain peaks outside resounding crisply beneath your heels, you make your way to the small bar trolley tucked away in one corner. Your last guest, a senator with strong -- unsubtly strong -- ties to the Clan, had complimented your selection of fine whiskeys and other alcohols. You had not admitted then that you did not keep the bar stocked for the guests who were few and far between, but rather for yourself, to chase away the damnable chill in this place.

Your hand stills between decanters, your mind hesitating at the threatening burn that awaits your selection.

A bad habit.

You can imagine that peculiar modulated voice now. “Madam, the faces you make.”

Instead, you shun the alcohol and the ice that never thaws, yet still gets replaced each morning, now resting in a round chest, as gilded as everything else in this room, and reach for the Felucian pear juice. Duller, perhaps, but you don’t need anymore guilt on your conscience.

A sip, then two, settles a gnawing in your stomach you only notice once it passes.

Intolerable, you muse, downing what remains in the glass. The beverage is sweet, almost as sweet as the air outside is cold. Too quiet. Where are -

A rush of air and sliding metal breaks the silence. Glass in hand, your eyes narrow over the rim at the assistant who scuttles in. This one has been particularly insipid since her arrival. The daughter of someone marginally important, she is small and hunched shouldered -- she hasn’t learned, not like you did, and a part of you suspects she never will.

She stops just short of where the tile begins and as she does, your eyes track down her uniform to a pair of shoes that have never been polished. Stars help her.

In a quavering voice, she asks, “Madam?”

You raise a brow.

“We’ve received word. The transport with the troopers has requested permission to land. They’re on their way.”

You set the glass aside, gingerly, its bottom barely clacking against the tray atop the cart. Republic troopers. A battering ram when a scalpel is needed.

“Ah, the Senate’s grand favor,” you murmur.

“Yes, ma’am.”

So many years spent with watchful eyes on you has made you good at hiding your frustrations. You swallow a sigh before it ever rises and allow yourself a brief moment to thumb the crystalline edge of the glass. The senator had warned you.

Your voice is quiet as you instruct the girl, “Get out.”

She scurries gracelessly back through the door. It is an improvement; the last time she had squeaked pitifully before leaving. Perhaps you should have enjoyed the alcohol while you could. If this goes badly, all these nice things, all this luxury will be reassigned, a new name on the door. Such is the way of things -- you know the warnings well.

Until forty-eight hours ago, they had been going so smoothly. An unfamiliar voice at the back of your mind whispers at you. Had you gotten complacent? You never get complacent. You had been warned for star’s sake. Senator Clovis had been all too clear that vaults here on Scipio were being targeted. You had taken that to mean the transports would be targeted as well. Credits were valuable, gold was valuable, as were artifacts and treasures. The Clan stored it all.

But most valuable of all were and would always be secrets.

And secrets...you were very good at secrets. Finding them. Keeping them. Exposing them.

The hand on the glass tightens and through touch or through sound, you sense that just a little more pressure will splinter it. Gently, you lift your fingers.

You’ve got enough messes to clean up already.

…………….

Two of his brothers look unhappy. Hunter suspects he, too, looks unhappy. Only Crosshair remains unaffected, toothpick lolling from one corner of the man’s thin mouth to the other as he watches the sky shift from icy atmo to the very tips of craggy mountains.

“Looks cold,” rumbles Wrecker from his seat, thick legs kicking out miserably. “Nobody said it was gonna be cold.”

From the pilot’s chair, Tech glances at Hunter, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat. Now that Hunter can see him full-on, rather than that goggle-obscured side-profile of his, he realizes that he’d been right. Even Tech is unhappy with the assigned locale. Still, the man sniffs and turns back to navigating the gunship.

“It is Scipio,” says Tech.

“What’s that got to do with anything? Just sayin’, a little warning might’ve been nice.”

Crosshair shifts, the movement almost imperceptible, just enough that Hunter knows the sniper is asking for his attention. “I believe Hunter was preoccupied with warning us about the...what was it you called them, Hunter? Denizens?”

“The word does have an apt connotation for the Banking Clan,” Tech mutters. He gives Hunter another look, this one says that he’s no more excited about the prospect than Hunter has been.

Their mission brief had been a strange one. It wasn’t their usual brand of run-and-gun from the sound of things, but it was important to all the right people, and they needed guaranteed success. “Go to Scipio, meet the point of contact, establish the responsible party, recover the stolen data.” It was more or less all they had been told.

Hunter knows his frown is getting deeper, sinking into the lines on his face -- he can feel it pulling at his bandana, and he raises a hand to scrub it away.

“Who is this contact anyway?” asks Crosshair. “You never said.”

“Because I wasn’t told a name. We’re to meet with the, and I quote, ‘Principal Trades Specialist for the InterGalactic Banking Clan.’”

“Trades specialist?” Crosshair plucks his toothpick from between his teeth and for a moment, it takes Hunter longer than he would like to decipher the look on the man’s face. He doesn’t look unhappy...he looks intrigued. Crosshair replaces the toothpick, then says, “Sounds like a fancy way of saying ‘corporate spy.’”

“Head corporate spy,” Tech says, “If he’s - “

“She, from what I’m told,” corrects Hunter. His frown has yet to go anywhere, so he lets it stay, his hand falling to his lap.

Tech nods. “If she is based here on Scipio, we’re dealing with someone who needs to be watched closely. Some important players are based on this planet.”

Crosshair folds his arms. “Did the spy part give it away, Tech?”

“The Banking Clan part, actually,” Tech replies dryly, “We’ve dealt with spies before. The IGBC is something different. It is...new territory.”

“We’ve also dealt with new territory before.” At this, Hunter hears them all shift, their quick heartbeats settling into a familiar, all’s-well rhythm. His, too, follows. Just in time, it would seem, for the comms to squawk at them as the Marauder banks left and begins its final descent to the landing pad. He stands from the co-pilots seat, the faint tilt of the floor beneath him a familiar calm before the inevitable storm. He looks to Wrecker, who shakes his head, and then offers a grin.

“Might be fun. Never clobbered bad guys with snowballs before.”

There’s a snort from Tech and despite himself, Hunter smiles.

**************************************

Ten minutes later, they are suited up and disembarking into a cloud of snow flurries and ice crystals. The Banking Clan’s guards are as heavily armored as some of the Separatist patrols Hunter’s encountered. He scowls beneath his helmet. This should be a job for Jedi -- if the Jedi weren’t all dispatched to the war front.

Soldiers...they don’t deal with these sorts of people. Not well and not effectively. Too much bad blood between the Republic and profiteers like these.

He motions at his brothers to close ranks, their familiar presences a comforting reminder that this isn’t anything new, not really. It’s a mission like any other.

As the frosted cloud clears ahead of them, the guards, in their gilt armor and insulated cloaks, make way, too much way, Hunter thinks, for the clearance to be for a group of Republic troopers.

Then he sees her.

Half camouflaged by the swirling winds and clad in half a dozen shades of gray and silver, her shoulders draped in white fur, she stands waiting for them, her hands clasped serenely in front of her. She could be a diplomat, a Jedi even, if not for the gleam in her eye. It’s a cold thing, sharper and as frostbitten as this frozen world itself.

He’s not the only one to have noticed. Beside him, Hunter hears Crosshair draw in an appreciative breath so quiet no one without incredible senses would notice it. In his periphery, he catches an almost imperceptible twitch of Tech’s helmet as his brother spares him a questioning glance.

When the woman speaks, her voice is crisp, professional. “Clone Force 99, welcome.” She does not smile, but her eyes track to each of them, lingering too long, as though somehow looking past the armor to the men beneath. She introduces herself with a name that sounds too soft for the title she wears. Then, she gives them a crystalline smile. “But you may call me Trader, if you please.”

“Trader?” It is Wrecker who asks the question, finally distracted from the snow and ice. “Sounds like…”

Another smile, this one not quite as cool as the first. Amused, Hunter thinks, though how benign that amusement is, he can’t tell, and it makes his skin itch beneath his blacks. “Like traitor?” she hums. “I suppose it does, doesn’t it?”

She steps aside and gestures at them to follow. “With me, gentlemen. First, we’ve a meeting. Afterwards, we will take a tram to the vaults, then from there, speeders to the site of the incident.”

“‘Incident’ is an awful clean way to say ‘bloody heist,’” says Hunter as he moves to follow. Her gaze slides to him, her stride never slowing. Shoulder to shoulder with the woman, he has the uncomfortable instinct to slow his steps, to lag behind, as though if he isn’t careful, a blade might slide between his ribs on a blink. He pushes aside the urge, then asks, “How many people were lost?”

“Enough,” she replies. “One could even say too many.”

“But not you?”

“Must someone say something for you to believe they think it?”

Behind him, Crosshair snorts, but does not comment. Hunter lets the statement slide, though the itch he’d felt earlier is heating to a burn now. Together, she leads them through a set of gleaming durasteel doors into a foyer as stark as it is grand.

“Proceed through those doors.” She crooks a finger to their left. “Senator Amidala has requested a meeting in...eighteen minutes. I will join you shortly.”

Wrecker whistles, the sound too sharp to come from beneath his helmet, and Hunter glances back to see that the man has removed it, his one good eye roving the pristine interior. With a sigh, Hunter follows suit. It’s not exactly warm here, but out from the planet’s whipping winds, it’s close enough that even he can fool his sensitive skin into enjoying it. Soon, they are all unmasked. The woman - Trader - lingers long enough to observe them.

Her expression is...unreadable. There is no twinkle of bemusement in her eyes, not the first twitch of surprise. Normally, when the helmets come off, it gets at least some sort of reaction, gives him some kind of measure.

Now, the only read Hunter gets is the fact that he can’t get a read on her -- and that, he doesn’t like. There’s no trusting people who have become so numb.

Her gaze slips between Crosshair and Tech, where it lingers on the latter for seconds longer than it had the rest of them. Something in her frigid eyes warms, the ice of her expression cracking just enough that she might be pleased by what she sees. And Tech...for all his usual detachment, has no datapad to bury his nose in now, and he notices.

Hunter thinks the woman lets him notice.

His brother stands a little straighter, eyes flicking nervously to Hunter behind his goggles. Stumped, for lack of a better word. For once, flat out puzzled.

Then, without a word, Trader looks back to Hunter and inclines her head. “Stay warm, gentlemen. I will see you soon.”

She is gone behind a pair of adjacent doors without another word.

No sooner do they watch the durasteel whisper shut, than does Wrecker drive his arm into Tech’s side with a chuckle. Tech winces with a hiss and waves the man away.

“Heh, she likes you.”

“I hoped it was my imagination.” Crosshair’s lip curls, his eyes narrowing until he looks away, and Hunter wonders if they’ve been reflected back at him through the shine of Tech’s goggles.

Tech runs a hand over the back of his head. “What do you think, Hunter?”

“I think she’s Banking Clan, through and through. We’re not among friends here.”

“If we let her alone with Tech, things might get friendlier -”

“Wrecker.”

Hunter scowls. Another voice has echoed his own and he looks to see Crosshair, arms folded, rocking back on a foot to glare at the wampa-sized man.

Tech clears his throat. “Perhaps we should wait in the briefing room?”

His heart rate, harder to hear away from the tight confines of the Marauder, sounds schoolboy quick and Hunter wishes, not for the first time, that his brother was more inclined to find company in their off-duty hours than he was. Pretty faces were fine - Hunter himself was inclined to enjoy them - but something about the mask this one wore was dangerous.

Wrecker’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. “Did she say Senator Amidala was waiting?”

“She did. The commander warned us the Senate was at play here.”

“That’s not our usual playground though, is it?” Crosshair is still scowling, his arms folded more tightly now than they had been. All that characteristic suspicion exacerbated by annoyance that has set in and won’t leave him. It makes his eyes hard, his narrow features sharpened and cold beneath the glare of sunlight on durasteel.

Hunter shakes his head. “It’s not, but I feel better knowing Amidala’s behind us on this.”

“That makes one of us,” says Crosshair.

“Two,” Tech interrupts, his voice crisp; back to himself, Hunter realizes, his relief warm down to his fingertips, until he isn’t sure why he’d been worried in the first place.

“Three! I like Amidala.”

“We know, Wrecker.” Tech’s smile is gentle, even as he rolls his eyes. “The poster by your bed speaks for itself.”

Hunter’s gaze slides to his remaining brother, the smile that had spread turning crooked, then fading. “Crosshair?”

It’s always been an unsettling characteristic of Crosshair’s that his eyes, as brown as all of theirs, manage to be so very cold when the mood hits him. The look in them is not unlike what he had witnessed in the woman.

The observation tightens Hunter’s throat and he swallows it, turning away, and hopes not to notice it again.

#bad batch #star wars #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #multichapter #part one #the bad batch #bad batch tech #bad batch crosshair #decidedly not proofread #shitty art by me #blame no one else

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