#but you just act so oblivious and always change the subject and try to shut me up

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[bekolxeram]

The sheer number of times Eddie is mentioned when Buck comes out to Maddie has been pointed out time and time again. Some take it as a sign that Buck is subconsciously in love with Eddie, some see it as foreshadowing for these two to be romantically involved in the future, while others simply think it's an Easter egg left in by writers as a nod to shippers.

The way I see it, there is a reason why Eddie keeps being brought up in this scene, but it's not what you think.

If you've rewatched this scene as much as I have, you'd remember that Buck actually isn't coming out to Maddie on purpose in this scene. He originally goes there to talk and ask for her advice, because he feels bad about the hot chicks incident when Eddie walked in on him and Tommy at the restaurant.

In fact, he fully intends to keep the identity of his date hidden. He can't even risk Chimney getting wind of it, in case he or Eddie puts two and two together and figures the whole thing out.

Maddie is always there to talk things out with her brother, but she would never turn down a chance to gossip.

He completely dodges Maddie's question and quickly changes the subject. He needs to tell Maddie the full story of his disastrous date, but he can only refer to Tommy as his date, or "this person". The more he does this, the higher the risk of slipping up, Maddie would likely ask more questions about this mysterious person as well, so Buck frames the whole narrative around the only person he can safely refer to: Eddie (and Marisol, but she isn't important in this story).

Maddie picks up on Buck's secrecy, now she really wants to know who this person is and why Buck refuses to reveal their identity. Buck again immediately shuts it down, and brings the topic back to Eddie.

While I'm sure Buck feels bad for lying to his best friend, especially when there's no reason to expect Eddie reacting with anything less than acceptance, when Buck starts actually talking about his behavior and what upsets him the most, it isn't really about Eddie. He's ashamed of himself for lying right in front of Tommy. In fact, he's so upset over Tommy cutting the date short and leaving him on the curb that he accidentally uses a gendered pronoun.

Maddie "I am 9-1-1" Han makes a career out of being a good and thorough listener, so of course she notices the pronoun. From this point on, the subject of the conversation shifts from Eddie to Buck's newly discovered sexuality, and later, Tommy.

Buck knows he goes to Maddie because he feels bad, but he still hasn't fully processed the fact that he's into men too and what it means to him. He's still calling himself an ally, a supporter of queer people, but he's confused as to why it doesn't seem to apply when it comes to himself. Maddie correctly points out that he's no longer just an ally, and the recency of his discovery might have been the cause of his strange and panicked behavior during the date.

This is the prime example of acting turning the same line into different meanings. The first "wow" seems to me like Maddie is finally connecting the dots. She practically raised her brother, it's not unlikely that she has previously witnessed Buck having boy problems. I feel like it's a "wow, everything makes so much sense now" wow. It looks like Buck takes a little offence at it and asks Maddie to clarify what she means by "wow". Maddie tells him it's more like a "wow, this is a nice surprise" wow.

Oh, boy is completely clueless. Maddie is just trying her best to keep up with Buck's increasingly oblivious statements.

Buck suddenly brings up Tommy, probably because he hasn't been able to stop thinking about him since the kiss. Apparently, he's so attracted to Tommy both physically and as a person, it makes him realize his interest in men, something no other has achieved thus far. Maddie recognizes the name her brother has been harping on for the past few weeks.

Poor Maddie must be so confused. First her brother and husband-to-be keep talking about how cool this pilot who saved everyone is, then he becomes Eddie's friend and Buck gets all jealous about it. Most recently, Maddie is horrified by Buck's action on the basketball court, because he only has a history of hurting himself to get someone's attention, not the target of his attention seeking. And now Buck has gone on a date with Tommy? So Maddie decides, one step at a time, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Buck initially tells Maddie about lying to his best friend and how he feels like a fraud, so she tackles (no pun intended) this part first.

If you come into this scene with preconceived notions, the word "feelings" being in proximity to the name Eddie may seem like to you that Maddie is pointing to "Buck's misplaced romantic feelings towards Eddie". But if you put these lines into context, Buck simply isn't sure of how he feels about his bisexuality in general. In fact, the only thing he's certain of in this entire conversation is his attraction to Tommy. Maddie also isn't bringing up Eddie out of the blue because she thinks her brother is secretly in love with his best friend. Again, Buck originally does want advice about lying to Eddie, albeit partly using his name to avoid revealing his date's identity, so Maddie gives it to him now, no need to read too much in between the lines, especially after the "wow" exchange.

Now that the Eddie stuff is out of the way, Maddie can comfortably gossip about Buck's new hot pilot crush. And Buck looks absolutely smitten at the mere mention of Tommy.

Eddie is undoubtedly a very important person in Buck's life, and it must be killing Buck inside for lying about something so important to his best friend. Though in this scene, Buck seems to be mostly using Eddie's name to circumvent the necessity of mentioning Tommy's name and to deflect any probing question about his identity. Once he accidently lets it slip that he was on a date with a guy, he pretty much drops the whole Eddie act entirely.

[thatchickwithtoomanyhobbies]

It’s Over (Daniels/Aiello)

***Note: I’m not shipping Daniels and Aiello, at least not romantically. They barely had any interaction in the game so I decided to give them some sort of scene together. In some sort of alternate universe, Hazel’s letter was definitely a Dear-John. This story explores that possibility. Mostly revolves around Aiello and Daniels but the other guys are in it too. The whole Stiles’ glasses thing at the beginning is inspired by the same thing happening to me in high school. Note 2: Puke Phobia warning! It’s only one small paragraph , but as someone who is also puke phobic I figured you’d want that.***

“No, College. I don’t see it anywhere. Just watch where you step.” Frank Aiello was, once again, helping Drew Stiles find his lens. The one that went in his glasses, not the one to his camera. He had been cleaning them (as he usually did first thing in the morning) and the lens had popped out and flown across the tent. The longer they were in Europe the most often Stiles seemed to lose either a lens or his glasses entirely, and it irked him beyond belief.

“Well, find it Aiello! You know I can’t see without it!” Stiles getting angry was a rare sight, but it was hilarious whenever it happened. It always reminded Aiello of his older sister.

“You could always close that eye and just look with the other,” Aiello said smirking and trying his best not to laugh. If Stiles finally punched him for this one it was worth it. Thankfully, he decided to ignore that statement.

“Maybe it went under one of the beds. Can you look?”

“I can, but you can’t,” Aiello said, laying on his stomach to look under the cots in their shared tent. He enjoyed making fun of Stiles’ horrible eyesight whenever the opportunity presented itself, and today was no different.

“Shut up, Aiello,” Stiles said, kicking him in the rear before sitting on one of the beds. He couldn’t help that he had terrible eyesight and resented Aiello making fun of him for it. “Just hurry up and find it. We gotta pack this place up.”

“Wait, I think I see it,” he said picking up a small transparent item from underneath Daniels’ cot. He held it up too his own eye. “Sheesh! I see why you were desperate to find this! You sure you’re not blind?”

“Screw off,” Stiles said, snatching the lens away and popping it back into the frame before leaving the tent.

The Italian man bent down to look under the bed again. He’d seen a piece of paper under there while looking for Stiles’ lost lens. Finally he found it.

“Private Ronald R. Daniels,” he read aloud. It was from his wife back home. Usually she addressed it with his nickname, Red, but this time she had used his full name. There was only one reason for doing that. “Yikes, that’s gonna ruin his day,” he said to himself. He’d take it to him before the other men started taking apart the tent to pack it up.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Alright, Frank act natural,” he thought to himself. Daniels had been out on the jeeps with Zussman all morning, so he hadn’t had the chance to give him the letter yet. He felt bad for the man, blowing up his world as he knew it like this. But he may as well hear it from a friend, right?

“Hey, found this lying around,” he said, tossing the envelope on top of the crate Daniels was carrying. “It’s from your girl.”

“I thought I told you not to go through my things?”

“What kind of chump doesn’t open a sugar report?” He asked, changing the subject from his propensity to snoop through his comrades’ things, to Daniels avoidance of his wife’s letter. After all, if Daniels didn’t want him to find it then why was it under his bed?

“The kind who thinks it’s a Dear-John,” Stiles said, joining the conversation. Aiello cringed. He wondered if the man had always been this oblivious or if this had only been a thing since joining the army.

“See the address? She wrote ‘Daniels’ not ‘Red’. Only one reason to be so formal. Hate to say it, I think she’s cutting you loose.”

Of course Stiles would tactlessly tell the poor guy his relationship was over. That would’ve been bad enough. But of course, Stiles and his social ineptitude had to make it even worse.

“Or hey, maybe it’s like Schrödinger’s letter. You know? You don’t open it, she’s still your girl.” He said with a grin and a shrug of his shoulders.

Aiello had had enough of the man’s ignorance for one day. He slapped him in the back of the head.

“Ow!” Stiles shrieked. He was lucky he didn’t hit him again for being so stupid.

“Maybe it’s like Schrödinger’s letter?” Poor Daniels, having his relationship likened to a dead cat in a box. “What is wrong with you?” Just because they all knew there was nothing else that letter could be, didn’t mean he could flippantly joke about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been two weeks since Daniels had gotten that letter and he still hadn’t opened it. He knew why Daniels wasn’t opening it now all too well, seeing as he had gotten one of his own that morning.

“Gracie started seeing the boy from the theater this week. She said she couldn’t handle you being over there anymore or the thought that you might not come back. I’m sorry, Frankie. I wish I could do something to change her mind.” His sister’s letter had read. His long-time sweetheart and the girl he’d planned to marry hadn’t even had the decency to tell him herself.

Poor Daniels. Now he felt worse for him than ever. At least he could be there for him as a friend when his heart was inevitably ripped in two.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His hands shook as he picked up the letter. He had delayed the inevitable for three weeks, but now it was time to face the thing he’d dreaded since he was shipped off.

He hoped that somehow this letter was something different. That perhaps it was news of a new baby or perhaps a new car. Anything but the thing he knew deep in his gut was the context of that letter.

He cut open the envelope with his knife. His hands shook terribly as he slid the paper out. He closed his eyes, trying to will himself to relax.

“If it’s over, we’re here for you, pal,” Zussman said, trying to give him some sort of comfort. It wasn’t helping.

He had known Hazel his entire life, her family owning the farm next to his. They’d been something of a couple since their mid teens, always promising that, someday, they’d be married. They’d made good on that promise a month before he shipped out. Yes, they were still teenagers, eighteen and nineteen respectively, but they’d figured they could make it work. And if something happened, she’d get his pension and be able to make something of a life for herself.

“I tried to warn you…” Stiles said, smugness in his voice. Sometimes, he really wished the medic would stitch his mouth shut so no one had to hear him anymore.

“College, let the man speak.” Good ol’ Aiello, always keeping Stiles somewhat in check. He was fiddling with the drumsticks his mother sent him from back home on his cot, probably imagining playing for a crowd of people.

“Dear Red,

I’m sorry, but I need to tell you the truth. This relationship isn’t working with us being an ocean apart…”

He could hear the blood rushing in his ears. It was over. His lifelong love was gone. He wanted to scream, cry, kick something, anything but be in this tiny tent with three other men. He swallowed the lump in his throat and kept reading. He had to at least hear her out.

“…I’ll be honest, I shouldn’t have married you that day. It was a mistake. We’re too young and you’re off fighting in a war I don’t know you’ll come back from. Mr. Farley’s son, Albert, took me on a picnic after you left…”

He couldn’t read this anymore. It was bad enough that she was dumping him, but to think that she’d been two-timing him since he left? It was all too much. He ripped the letter in half and through it on the ground. He needed to get out of there.

The world was spinning around him and his heart was pounding. Why was this happening? His childhood sweetheart and best friend no longer wanted him. He stood unsteadily to his feet. He needed to be anywhere but there.

“What’s wrong, bud?” Zussman asked. He hadn’t seen Daniels like this since the day they landed at Normandy.

“It’s over. It’s over,” he kept saying, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He ran out of the tent. Aiello stood to run after him, tossing the drum sticks onto the cot.

“You guys stay here. If Turner or Pierson comes around, tell ‘em what’s going on,” he said before turning and running after Daniels.

“I’m reading this,” said Stiles. Zussman rolled his eyes. Why couldn’t Stiles pick another day to be stupid? But what if Daniels had missed something important?

“…I’ve come to realize that I am quite happy with Albert Farley. Much happier than I have been since you left. And since I know you’ll try to win my affections back if you ever make it home, I may as well say this now. I’m pregnant, and it’s Farley’s child. I can’t be with you anymore because the guilt is too much. I’ve started the divorce and I’ll marry and raise the baby with Albert. I’m sorry for ending things like this, but it had to be done. I hope you can one day forgive me, and knowing you, you probably will. So this is goodbye, Red. Sincerely, Hazel Martin”

“Aiello! Aiello, wait!” Zussman yelled. He hoped the man was in earshot so he could tell him that last thing. Suddenly he heard Aiello’s footsteps coming back in his direction.

“Please don’t tell me it’s more bad news. I don’t think he can take much more.”

“She’s pregnant. With the other guy’s kid, too. Zussman hated having to rip his best friend’s world apart. But they’d be there for him.

“Stronza di merda...” Aiello cursed. How could she do this to a guy as great as Daniels? “I’ll tell him. He needs to know,” he told Zussman. Then he turned and ran into the woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Daniels! Daniels! Where the hell are you? Daniels!” Aiello yelled, running though the woods looking for his friend. He knew how he felt, at least somewhat. The whole man’s world was being torn apart. He too had gotten the dreaded letter a week prior.

“Daniels! Where are-“ then he saw him, sitting on a downed tree looking positively ill. He’d never seen Daniels this distraught over anything. He’d never been good at giving comfort to others, but he’d have to try.

“It’s gonna be ok, man. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you’ll be ok.” He said sitting next to him on the tree. “If she did this after all you’ve been through, she didn’t deserve you. It’ll all work out.” Empty words. He didn’t know how it would work for the man, especially once he found out about the child.

“I can’t believe she’d do this to me,” he choked on the words in his desperation to not cry. “Why? How? And with Albert Farley of all people!”

He could tell Albert, the farrier’s son, had had a crush on Hazel for a while. The way he’d talk to her, make her laugh, he’d even brought her a kitten on one occasion. He’d just never expected him to try to win her over while he was gone.

“I’ll show that Albert Farley!” Daniels said angrily. A few tears were rolling down his face now. “I’ll get my girl back and show him!”

“But you can’t,” Aiello said biting his lip. He didn’t want to tell him the next part. If he had to choose between Pierson chewing him out or telling Daniels this, he’d pick Pierson a hundred times over.

Daniels looked at him the same way he’d seen his young nephew looked when the lamp wasn’t on at night- terrified. A sobering reminder of how young Daniels was, just nineteen. Barely out of high school the year prior, and still in many ways just a kid.

“You can’t because,” he closed his eyes and bit his lip. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He didn’t want to hurt him even worse, but he knew he had too.

“Because she’s pregnant. And it’s Albert’s. She’s gonna marry and raise the baby with him.” He winced. That was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.

Daniels got up and wretched by a nearby tree. Not only had his wife been two-timing, but she was having another man’s baby. He puked again. The very thought sickened him. The whole time he’d been gone he’d been worried about making it back home to her. And she was back in Texas messing around with another man. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and sat down on the tree again dazed.

“You want me to get the medic?” Aiello asked, concerned. He felt awful for the man.

Daniels shook his head. Instead, he put his head in his knees and cried. For Hazel, for the future he thought he had, but mostly for himself. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

Aiello sat awkwardly next to him. He had no words, no ideas whatsoever, to console the man.

“You gotta give her some credit though,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek.

Daniels looked at him with contempt, tears still streaming down his face. Why would he want to give the woman who tore his whole world apart any credit?

“At least she told you. I had to find out from my sister.” He felt awful, like he was making Daniels’ heartbreak about himself. But if roles were reversed, he knew he’d want to know someone understood the pain.

“I could tell Gracie was done, but I didn’t want to believe it. I convinced myself she was busy, that’s why the letters were getting more and more infrequent. Then last week, Sammy sent me a letter that Gracie was done. ‘She’s seeing the boy from the theater’ she said. I just wish she would’ve told me herself.” He felt like crying, this was the first time he’d admitted it to someone. That his relationship with the woman he’d planned to marry was over.

As upsetting as this whole situation was, it felt good to know that his friend knew at least somewhat how he was feeling. Aiello was right, at least she told him. He’d heard stories of how men were going home to find their houses empty and their wife and children gone.

“I just can’t believe it’s over,” he said through his tears. He was trying to calm himself down enough to go back to the camp.

“I know buddy, me either.”

***So I decided to rip apart Daniels emotionally for once instead of Aiello. I know this one is awful but I hope you liked it.***

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

The Viscount’s fiancee [Anthony Bridgerton x Reader]

Title: The Viscount’s fiancee Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader Word count: 3k Published: 7 March, 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: [x] Being engaged to the eldest Bridgerton brother makes you the happiest person alive, occasionally so much so that it makes you act as though you were a foolish child. But all that giddiness is about to disappear upon your findings.

Bridgerton Masterlist | Masterlists

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Viscount, Anthony Bridgerton was known for many reasons. The Bridgerton family was wealthy and highly respected in the ton. Many mothers wanted to marry off their daughters to one of the Bridgerton brothers, but of all Anthony had the worst standing. He was dashingly handsome, very prominent and certainly well educated, but his reputation as a rake preceded him.

When the news of your engagement surfaced, even Lady Whistledown wrote of you with a great deal of respect namely as the woman who tamed one of the wildest Bridgertons. You just laughed it off, but deep down you felt somewhat proud. You have been friends from a very young age and since your families have had a long and close relationship, it was inevitable to grow close to the siblings. In your teenage years, however, you fell for the man’s charm and humour, even his brooding moments. Although his proposal came as a surprise, knowing your relationship was always stranded at the stage of a friendship, when he kneeled down in front of you and asked for your hand in marriage, the amount of pure happiness you felt made you feel like you were walking above the clouds.

Hurrying down the stairs, you held onto the side of your dress before attempting to fall face down, but your clumsiness seemed to be greater as you accidentally let your dress fall on one side. Your own foot tangled up in the hem of your dress and the weight of your body pulled you dangerously close to the ground. In fear, you closed your eyes, heart pumping dangerously against your chest, anticipating a painful and loud landing, However, before you could have encountered the most embarrassing moment of your life, a strong arm locked around your waist, pulling your back against a hard chest. At first you didn’t dare to open your eyes, you squeezed them shut, afraid of your saviour’s identity, but the significant cologne reminded you of one very important person.

Turning around in his arms, you opened only one eye, peeking up at your hero. He wore an adoring, lopsided smile as he shook his head disapprovingly. You scrunched your nose as you opened your other eye and rearranged your expression into an innocent smile, trying to mask your embarrassment.

“I take it you were in a haste to see me?” he asked, his deep voice holding a humorous tone. Indeed, his arrival sparked such curiosity in you that you couldn’t possibly wait a second more to slow your steps and descend down the stairs as though a lady should. You have barely spent a couple of hours apart, but there you were missing him endlessly, involuntarily bringing out a giddy little child within you. The love you felt for him couldn’t have been more obvious and whilst you attempted to act less transparent, it never seemed to work. Anthony wasn’t an oblivious man, nor were you the best actress of the ton.

“I was simply heading to the drawing room,” you replied nonchalantly, trying to convince him that for once his presence didn’t affect you as deeply as he already knew.

“I’m quite certain the drawing room is upstairs,” he huffed playfully. Indeed, the previously mentioned room was upstairs and making yourself look as though you were a fool didn’t seem to help your case.

“I was thirsty,” you quickly added, hoping to stop Anthony from questioning you any further.

“Should you have called the maid, she would have brought the drink to your room,” he added, his smirk growing slightly, enjoying your foolishness.

“Anthony Bridgerton,” you called his name in a warning tone, earning a heartfelt laughter from the man, knowing you have reached your patience. Although you have not been married yet and only announced your engagement a week or so ago, you were very close to one another, hence the reason his arm around you for longer than appropriate didn’t seem to bother you nor him. Your father loved the eldest Bridgerton brother greatly even though he knew of his reputation, therefore he didn’t mind finding you alone with him, but he never failed to mention keeping a distance until you were married.

“I apologise, but you were never a good liar,” he chuckled at your failed attempt to mask your love for him.

“I know, I’m well aware of it. But exposing me is very unfair,” you pouted in the least lady-like manner. Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you steadied yourself on the stairs, Anthony’s arms leaving your body cold after his warm embrace.

“Why is it unfair?” he furrowed, slightly confused about your words.

“Because you know I love you. You know I love you very much,” you replied with a saddened expression as you started heading down the stairs. “It’s not funny when I clearly know I am making a fool out of myself in front of you,” you shook your head, disappointed in your own behaviour. Whilst you knew Anthony cared for you dearly, you always felt as though your feelings were deeper, stronger. Sometimes foolish thoughts ran across your mind, ones that tried to convince you Anthony didn’t love you the way you wished he did, that he might have only loved you as a friend from his childhood, someone he was used to being around.

Anthony quickly headed after you, grabbing your wrist as gently as he could, halting your steps as he turned you around to face him. “What are you talking about? I love that foolish, careless personality of yours,” he said, his tone slightly confused. “Have I done something to you?”

“I know being straightforward about such a subject is meant to be rude, but you have known me for years, Anthony. I need to know something, and I would like you to answer honestly, please,” you almost begged the man as he stood in front of you, his eyes wide in surprise, your seriousness unfamiliar to him.

“I’m always honest with you,” he added.

“Thank you,” you let a small faux smile spread across your face as you heaved a deep sigh, collecting the courage to ask your question. “Are you marrying me because my father asked you to or was it you who asked him for my hand?” you questioned, knowing he never talked about the arrangements between him and your father. You always felt safe and secure around him and falling for him happened from one day to another, it was inevitable for you. But for him, you couldn’t decide when and what changed. At once, he appeared in the drawing room with a bouquet of red roses and kneeled down in front of you, proposing to you, promising happiness forever. You were too happy to question his intentions then, but as the days passed as though your insecurities resurfaced, you couldn’t possibly think about anything else, but the reasons behind his sudden interest in you.

You furrowed at the long silence, tears collecting in your eyes at the realisation, chest weighing a ton. Anthony didn’t speak, he didn’t confirm it verbally, but you understood. The engagement wasn’t his idea to begin with and it all started to make sense. He never tried to kiss you, touch you in secret, he never tried to act as though you were lovers. Knowing it was inappropriate shouldn’t have stopped him, his time as a rake wasn’t a secret after all, he was a passionate man.

Gulping loudly, you took a step back, removing your wrist from his hold. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he spoke up finally, his voice filled with guilt.

“Should you have told me, I would have understood and stopped making a fool out of myself,” you replied, your unshed tears finally escaping down your cheeks. Heavy weight settled in your chest, your air seemingly stuck in your lungs, suddenly the mere thought of Anthony caused you tremendous amounts of physical and emotional pain.

“You misunderstand, I-” he tried to explain himself, but you didn’t give him the chance to and cut him off.

“But do I?” you asked with tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes as you fought against the loud sobs trying to escape your lungs. “You have accepted my father’s request to marry me! I never wanted to feel pitied, I never wanted to feel as though I could only marry out of an arrangement. I confessed my feelings for you, Anthony,” you sobbed loudly. Anthony reached for you to hold you, but you pushed his arms away and took a step back. “Do you understand how terrible it is to realise that the man you love pretended to be interested in you because of a mere agreement? Anthony do you realise?” you emphasised your words, but instead of speaking his mind, he stood in front of you gaping silently as though he wanted to say something, but not a word nor a sound left his lips. “Please, I’m begging you, leave now,” you whispered in a weak tone. Attempting to look less of a pitiful woman than you already felt as you walked around Anthony’s stunned figure towards the garden.

“I can’t leave. Please listen to me,” he turned around, calling you after a moment of silence, but you pretended to be deaf to his words. “Please!” he hurried after you as you exited the mansion, the warm rays of the sun warming up your body. The door closed behind you loudly, but within a second Anthony followed you out to the garden. “You must listen to me. It’s a misunderstanding,” he tried to convince you.

“No, it isn’t,” you replied in a firm tone, not wanting to hear any excuses from the man you made a fool out of yourself for.

“You completely misunderstand,” he tried to explain himself once again, but you didn’t let him continue. His excuses were more painful than the thought of him having no feelings for you.

You stopped in your spot, turning towards the eldest Bridgerton brother with a stern look on your face. Anthony hasn’t seen much anger from you throughout the years, but the pain you were harbouring in that moment scared him. He never meant to hurt you, he wanted a chance to explain his side to you, but the look across your usually happily glowing eyes now held darkness.

“Talk to my father, Mr. Bridgerton. I wish not to marry you anymore,” you clenched your jaw, your tone holding pure disappointment against the man who you loved so dearly. “Should you want to continue with the marriage, I will make your days miserable from your very first, to you very last,” you whispered the last part of your sentence, warning the man of your wrath.

“I will not break the contract!” he replied firmly without hesitation in his voice. “I need you to listen to me carefully,” you were about to stop him, his words angering you even further, but he didn’t let you interrupt him. He was determined to explain himself. “I’m quite certain I had a choice in the matter, I could have very well said no. You have been my friend for as long as I can remember, and I treasure our friendship. Do you really take me for a man who would want to hurt those he loves intentionally? I don’t love you as a mere friend I grew up with. I love you as a man loves a woman, as a husband loves a wife. I intended to ask for your hand in marriage, but your father seemed to be quicker than I could have even asked.”

“Why should I believe you?” you asked, voice softer, heart filling with hope. You wanted to believe him, his words made you hope, feeling foolish once again, but words didn’t mean as much as actions.

“Would I ever lie to you? I certainly didn’t mention the agreement, but regardless of that detail, my feelings are genuine,” he hesitantly stepped closer to you, hoping you wouldn’t turn and run away from him. As you stayed still, he dared to continue. “I have never lied to you and I don’t intend to start now. Should you question my intentions, I understand, but that will not change my feelings for you,” he took another step closer, your firm stance lighting a slight hope within him, but the fear across your face made him cautious.

“I wish nothing more than to believe you, but I confessed my feelings for you, and you have said nothing,” your voice hitched as you tried to stop your loud sobs from escaping. “I was a fool for you, but not once did you try to hold me, kiss me, make me feel as though I meant more than a mere friend, as though I was a woman in your eyes,” you replied as your eyes filled up with tears, glistening as you gazed at Anthony. His scoff surprised you, his unexpected reaction making you confused.

“I wanted to. I want to. I want to hold you, kiss you, touch you, I want to wake up beside you,” he heaved a heavy sigh, biting his bottom lip. “I’m trying to be a gentleman, but you are not helping my situation. Do you think it’s easy for me to sit beside you, hold onto your hand and smile as though I was an angel? I’m not an angel,” he groaned almost painfully. “I wish nothing but to pull you against me, pamper your neck with kisses, ran my hands across your body and taste your lips on mine” the passion behind his words, the low, dangerous tone he used to speak to you left your cheeks flushed, your lips parted in surprise. His eyes were dark, determined, his whole posture dominant. “I wish I could turn it off and on, because it makes me mad how much I want you,” he added as he took another step closer, forcing your back against the cold wall of the mansion. You couldn’t possibly focus on anything, but the feeling of his chest flush against yours, his darkening eyes watching you eagerly, his irregular breathing slightly tickling your lips, your stomach twisting into a knot.

Shaky breaths left your lungs, voice nowhere to be found. You wanted to stand on your tiptoes and attach your lips to his. You wanted to know the feeling of his mouth against yours, the taste of his lips. Those couple of inches between you never felt more unnecessary.

“My lord,” you spoke in an uncertain tone, whispering those words you barely ever said to him. “Show me how much,” he swallowed heavily as the words left your lips, his jaw tightened as though he was in physical pain from trying to control himself. Involuntarily, but he leaned closer, his hot breath lingering above your parted lips. “Please,” you added in a whisper, placing a hand on his cheek, caressing his skin with the tip of your thumb as you licked across your lips in anticipation.

As though that was the last piece of thread holding him back, he broke under your spell, wrapping his arms around your waist and closing the gap between your longing lips. There was no hesitation in his movements, he leaned down to meet your lips as though his life depended on your kiss.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, he deepened the kiss, awakening thousands of butterflies in the deepest part of your stomach, fluttering, flapping their wings, sending your heartbeat into a dangerous speed, weakening your knees. You couldn’t possibly imagine the feeling of being kissed, you weren’t experienced in that matter, but your body reacted involuntarily to Anthony as though you have been craving for something you have not known.

Anthony’s hand wandered up to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, even though you didn’t realise it was possible. His lips felt soft against yours, addictive, completely capturing your whole being. He didn’t need words to convey his feelings. The way he held you in his arms, his body engulfing yours, keeping you safe from anything or anyone who could possibly hurt you, his actions spoke for themselves.

He hinted a small peck on your swollen lips, before he left another and another, making you smile in content.

“Should you question my intentions again, I will have to repeat that,” he chuckled, slightly out of breath. Your eyes wandered to his lips, eagerly wishing for him to repeat his actions, wanting to feel his inviting lips on yours.

“I’m unsure of the right answer,” you breathed, attention completely captured by his plump lips. The dazed look across your face made him laugh loudly, throwing his head back, not being able to contain his happiness. His laughter brought a content smile across your face as you watched the man you loved in a blissful moment, his mere laughter filling your chest with a warm feeling.

“Do you believe me now?” he asked as his laughter died down, however, his lopsided grin didn’t disappear.

“I wish to say that I do, but-” once again your gaze found his lips, vivid memories of them attached to yours clouding your mind. “then you would not repeat- that,” you breathed in uncertainty, cheeks feeling hot in your embarrassed state.

“Would you like us to repeat that?” he chuckled with a mischievous smile. “Would you like me to kiss you once again?” he asked, slowly running a hand down your arm, leaving goosebumps after his trail, before linking his fingers with yours. No words could possibly leave your lips, an uncertain nod was the only sign of your agreement. He smirked proudly at your stunned expression as he started off in haste towards the back of the mansion, lightly pulling you after himself. You frowned at his actions, feeling oblivious as to what he was planning, before he gently shoved your back against a hidden wall, wrapping an arm around your waist, stopping his movements for a second. “I love you and I want you,” he whispered against your lips with shaky breaths, but a loving and warm smile on his face. “I will show you how much on our wedding night, but until then,” he smirked, before meeting your lips half-way, stunning you for a second, before you melted your body with his, wanting to feel him as much as you could for now.

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Hiya! May I please request some headcanons of Hawks find out he is in love with his s/o? And how would he confess to them? Thank you very much I hope you're well!

Of Course! Thank you for requesting and I hope you’re doing well too!💜

Hawks Finding Out He’s In Love With You Headcanons + The Aftermath :

Let's be honest with one another, Hawks isn't blind to other peoples attraction to him but he's a bit oblivious to his own.

He meet you at a gala he had to attend to for PR purposes. He saw you enter along side another hero in the lower ranks. You were walking around introducing yourself as a support engineer and that rang bells in his head about the potential of seeing you again.

His wings puffed up and he quickly composed himself at the idea. You were the most beautiful person he’s ever seen and there was no way of letting you go now that he had you in his presence.

The attitude and the aura you held was overwhelming his poor heart. He was eager to speak with you.

After the gala you both build a strong friendship we’re you both acted as one another’s support. He always brought you food while you were always left with the tab, asshole…but you love him.

He never understood why his heart did little flips on him when he would see you, heck, just the mention of you was enough for this to happen.

He didn’t poses all the bird traits others seem to believe he had, but he did coo and chirp and the easiest way to get him to do those things was with you.

You once brushed up against him while trying to move around the cramped closet filled with parts. You just needed something, that was all, but Hawks had barged into the small space and when you both touched it was like sparks went off.

He understands that others would potentially also take a liking to you, didn’t mean he wouldn’t get territorial.

A random person came up to you asking innocently about a project you were working on. Hawks was in the lab that day testing out a new set of shoes you made him since he complained about the soles wearing off easily/quickly.

“Dr. Y/n, can I have a moment with you? Your project revolving the new shield for-“ Hawks immediately butted in and interrupted the new visitor. No way he was letting you get flirted with (even though the person wasn’t flirting but again, bird brain)

“Listen man, y/n busy right now. So can you leave and let us finish up first? Ok? Great!” He used his feathers to push the person out of the lab and he walked to close the door shut.

“Hawks?” “Yeah, kid?” “Why did you do that?” “Do what?😁”

Asshole

The more people spoke with you the more his wings would bristle and he would get annoyed.

The final line came when a woman wrapped her arms around yours.

He. Saw. Red.

He wanted to be the one to hold you and touch you, not some some random beautiful woman!

He marched up to the both of you and yanked you away, his wings violently flapping as he took you high in the night sky.

“HAWKS, WHAT THE FUCK!” Full on panic, what was he going to do? He would never drop you but holy shit you were scared.

“Isn’t the sky beautiful.” “DONT CHANGE THE SUBJECT!”

He did drop you off at your apartment safe and sound like always but this time he didn’t leave. He walked into your home and just followed you.

“Can I help you?” You asked as you had your back turned towards him. You were cooking dinner for the two of you since he didn’t order anything yet and it didn’t look like he was planning on leaving any time soon.

“You’re pretty.” “Thanks Hawks I know.” “No, no you don’t. YOU’RE pretty.”

It finally clicked, at least somethings did.

His attitude the past few weeks and the odd possessive nature to the things he did. The gifts he would leave behind and the way he would openly share his food with you even when it was his favorite. The way he would stay after hours at the lab just to walk you home. The constant touching. Everything.

Hawks liked you.

“Hawks? Are you trying to-“ “AAAH, I GOTTOGOHERODUTYCALLS.”

He ran towards the balcony and just flied off in a hurry. 😒

It wouldn’t be till you barged into his office two days after did he finally cave in and spoke to you about what he said to you.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to say that- well I did but not like that at least.” He paused and reached out for your hand retracting his hand momentarily as of unsure but finally committing and holding yours in his.

“I do like you, I can’t pretend that I don’t anymore. You’re smart, beautiful, handsome, and everything good in this world.” You didn’t move much but you did use your free hand to hold his cheek in your hand. He leaned into it like it provided the best comfort in the world.

“I like you, no, I love…you. I love you and it stings to see how freely others show that they feel that same way for you and yet I couldn’t do that. It wasn’t for a lack off trying but more because I would become a bit of a coward.”

“Oh Hawks….”

“So, you know…if you feel uncomfortable you don’t need to stay and I can just bury my feelings-“

“Stop it, you didn’t ask if I felt the same way. That’s were you should start” “Yeah, well if you don’t feel the same way I’d much rather get told that your uncomfortable but I won’t lie I’m kind of hoping you aren’t uncomfy and say yes.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and just hugged him. He tensed for a moment before relaxing into your touch.

“I love you back Hawks.”

Skip to a few years later we’re he made headlines with not just his new hairstyle but also his very public and cute proposal to you.

He took you out to eat, literally dragged your ass to KFC at like 10:30pm and had you nearly choke on a chicken breast with the ring he ended up hiding in there.

Once you spat and cleaned the ring, you noticed it wasn’t to flashy but still called for attention.

“I wanted people to know that you’re with me and I’m with you. We can also get couples discount at some restaurants like that cat cafe down the- ouch!” You punches this shoulder and grabbed his face you give him a big kiss. He’s such a dork but you wouldn’t have asked for anything different.

Hawks felt like a million bucks and immediately asked if the wedding could be held at the KFC you both were at. You said no.

[ageofevermore]

Eighteen | T. Holland

Summary → you’re tired of feeling like the world silences you, but after an interview with sebastian and anthony, you start to wonder if maybe it’s your fault.

Warning(s) → mentions of anxiety, mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of inequality in gender roles, use of the word slut, fluff if you squint 

Word Count → 1.9k

Note → this is a heavier topic, one that might be personal to some. if you don’t think you can handle the subject matter, please don’t force yourself to. this is relatively watered down, but it doesn’t take a genius to see what’s not being said. the ending features boyfriend!tom consoling the reader, so it does end on a fluffy note, but don’t hold out for those few ending paragraphs. 

add yourself to my taglist 

It’s getting hotter in the interviews. A thin layer of sweat sparkles on your skin, and even though the air conditioning has been turned down multiple times, there are too many people in the room to feel any drastic differences. It’s unfortunate for you. Hot flashes are a lovely addition to your anxiety disorder, and press always sets your nerves ablaze. It doesn't matter what project you’re promoting, who you're partnered with, or what you're wearing-- you’re always hot. 

Your cheeks are flushed dangerously when the last interview before lunch is called for yourself, Sebastian, and Anthony. This is your first press tour as an adult. You joined the marvel franchise years ago, when being eighteen felt like the equivalent of turning thirty, and you weren’t blind to the changes of tone. People were harsher to you, more forward. If they weren’t shutting you up, they were hinting at something less then appropriate, usually something sexual. 

The next interview started with a short introduction to the media outlet, and your interviewer. He was middle aged, kind smile, salt and pepper hair. He asked for your names, then he told you his, and one by one he shook your hands. His grip on you was criminal, lasting longer than was comfortable. Sebastian and Anthony we’re oblivious to the few extra seconds of contact between you and him, but it made your skin crawl in a familiar discomfort. 

Your fingers curled into fists, heart high in your throat. The questions started out easy. They were mostly directed towards the boys, like always, but this time you couldn’t find yourself to be annoyed. You had dealt with handsy and sexually charged men before, but he set a fire beneath you. It wasn’t behavior you should tolerate, but being a woman in the industry, inappropriate touches and glances we’re easier ignored then dealt with. When you spoke up you caused drama, made headlines, attracted nasty social media comments that called you a whore. It was easier to just internalize. 

“Y/N.” 

You hummed, looking towards the call of your name. He was smiling sweetly at you again, a predatory glint in his eyes that put you on edge. You shifted your weight closer to Anothony unconsciously giving the hungry man your professional attention and a nod. 

He shuffles through his index cards, but his eyes don’t read the scripted questions his employers have supplied him with. It’s not often male interviews do their own research, usually they’re briefed by a colleague and handed a set of questions and topic point by a higher level employee, but this man doesn’t even read the card before he’s staring you down and opening his mouth. 

“You finally got the Stark suit update,” He says, motioning towards the promo poster that shows off your CGI suit in all of its edited glory. Although the actual costume is breathtaking, the computer effects give it an entirely different, more technologically charged, feel. 

“Yeah,” You nod, a forced smile on your lips as you try to ease the uncomfortable tension from your tone. “She’s finally--” 

He cuts you off before you can give him any explanation for the upgrade. He isn’t the first one to address your new wardrobe, but he’s the first one to leave you antsy and uncomfortable. Sebastian frowns when you’re cut off, but he doesn’t think much of it. He lets the man continue, though a professional sharpness pulls his grin into a scowl. 

“Were you able to wear undergarments underneath it? It’s tight, doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Was there ever a moment where you reflected how much your wardrobe has changed through the years?” He asks, a dirty grin on his lips. 

Sebastian and Anthony are shocked at the blunt, inappropriate construction of his question. The public eye knew nothing of your battles with body image, or health concerns that lead to surgery. Your mind was plagued with doubts and self-criticism, and his invasive, pervy question both infuriated you and broke you apart. 

You stutter to find an answer, heat overwhelming you. Your hand grips onto Anthony’s arm, and you can’t decide whether anger is what burns your skin or anxiety. Are you making a big deal of this? You don’t know. You feel like you have every right to feel violated and uncomfortable, but you’re a young woman in the entertainment industry, isn’t this the kind of ignorant commentary you signed up for? You don’t know anymore. You grew up with people always having an opinion on your appearance, sexualizing you as early as twelve. You’ve carried around pepper spray and  self-defense keychains long before you even had an understanding towards predatory men and sexual assault. You’ve been conditioned by the world and the media to carry on with your day, no matter the broken boundaries or disrespect. You’re tired of remaining silent, feeling like your less than your male counterparts. Women and men should hold no differing values in society, and yet you walk to your apartment with keys between your fingers and Tom doesn’t even lock his front door. 

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question.” You choke out, voice hard and nowhere near the soft and frilly pitch it usually obtains. You’re livid, absolutely pissed to the point of a quivering cupids bow. You’re humiliated, and horrified. Your feelings are everywhere, but you remain as professional as you can. If you yell, try to defend yourself at all, you’ll be painted as a diva in every media outlet for the next week, subliminally inviting backlash and slut-shaming comments into your social media messages. If Sebastian and Anthony come to your defense, they’ll be sung high-praises. 

The double standards men and women are held to, especially in the industry, is infuriating. 

He stumbles out a response, but his time is already up. For the first time today, you’re thankful these interviews are only ten minutes. He leaves the room, shown out by security, and even then he still sends you a wink over his shoulder as if your glimmering eyes meant nothing. 

“Hey,” Sebastian's voice is soft, his hand on the small of your back. You flinch away from his contact, head heavy in memories you’d rather forget. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, voice trembling with tears that you refuse to let fall. You’ve already been humiliated, you don’t need to further paint yourself as some helpless teenage girl. “I’m sorry. I’m going to go find Tom.” 

Anthony and Sebastian nod tightly. They watch as you quiver in your heels, hands clenched into fists at your sides. They’re proud of the way you handled yourself, though still absolutely enraged that any adult would find it appropriate to address you like that, especially in a professional setting. 

You stumble into the dressing rooms, right into your boyfriend's chest. Your mind is racing, but the minute you attach yourself to him, you break down. Shy sobs break Tom’s heart. He holds the back of your head to his chest, other hand on the small of your back and wrapped around your waist as you cry. You’re trying to stay quiet, but the attention is already on you. Chris and Robert are worried, and Zoe’s trying to act like she hasn’t noticed, but they don’t all watch as you try to console yourself with your boyfriend's warmth. 

“What happened?” Tom’s voice is soft, trying to keep this a private moment. He tries to move the both of you back into a corner, but you panic and squeeze around his waist tighter. “Baby,” 

You and Tom have been dating for six months, and although you’ve shared with him stories of your traumatic experiences as a woman living in LA, he’s never seen anything upset you like this. 

“I’m such a slut.” Your words come out so shy and small, you aren’t even sure you can hear yourself. No matter how  many times you tell yourself that your makeup and clothes don’t give men permission to make passes or feel you up, it’s getting harder to believe that your verbal consent is as strong as your clothes. Maybe you are asking for it, and in a wave of nausea, disgusted with yourself, your arms leave Tom’s waist to pull at the bottom of your borrowed dress. 

You’ve been hit on in sweats before. In ball gowns and crop tops. Somebody’s even pushed themselves against you while you wore Tom’s hoodie, but you still convince yourself that it’s your fault. That you we’re asking for it. 

Tom’s jaw sets harshly into place, and he tilts your chin upwards to meet his eye. His brown stare is hard, only adding to your distress. Maybe he agrees. Maybe he’ll blame you for what just happened. He’s probably going to break up with you. Other guys just can’t keep their hands and eyes off of you. He doesn’t want a slut for a girlfriend. 

“What the fuck did you just say, Y/N?” His tone causes you to flinch, words bouncing off of the dressing room walls. Everyone flinches, hearing only his heavy response. You try to divert your attention, but Tom squeezes your jaw, forcing your eyes back on his. “Say it again.” 

“I’m such a slut.” You sniffle, submitting beneath his fiery glare. Tensions are high as you try not to break down again. Apart from Tom, everyone in the room has watched you grow up, never losing that shy and sweet sense of yourself. You’re an exuberant light, a brilliant scene partner, a rising star who has big things in store for the future. You are many things, but a slut, isn’t one of them. 

Tom looks behind you, glaring straight at Anthony and Sebastion who are both stone eyed and still. They’ve not calmed down any since leaving the production room, instead, it seems their anger has only risen. The sight of you so distraught churns their stomachs. 

“Some asshole tried to make a pass.” Sebastion said in short, words angry and delivered as such. 

Tom’s breath hitched, his arms tightening around you and pulling you closer to his chest. His chin digs into your crown, eyes pinches shut as his hot exhale feels heavy. 

“You aren’t a slut, Y/N.” He doesn’t leave any room for argument, but you try anyways. Tom has no patience for it, and so he tilts your head back and plants his lips against yours harshly and eagerly, desperate to show you love and intimacy. “You. Aren’t. A. Slut.”

You nod, ducking your head back down into his chest as you try to believe him-- try to remember that you never asked for hands around your waist, or cupping your boobs. Wolf whistles, or handshakes that turn into forced frontal hugs. You didn’t ask for any of the harassment, no matter the outfits you wore and what they revealed.  

Tom lowers his voice, whispers melting into your hair, “This isn’t your fault, baby. Please believe me. None of this, is your fault. It’s disgusting and inappropriate, and you don’t deserve to deal with any of it.” 

You sniffle. You can’t tell him you believe him, not yet. Not when your heart is so heavy. Maybe one day you’ll believe him, but that’s just not now. 

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[may-b-a-u-shewritestoo]

The Feeling Is Mutual | | Part 2 | | Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

PART 1

Summary; You’re both profilers, analysing behaviour and making connections. So why is it so hard to read each other?

Includes; injury to main characters, talk of injury, talk of violence, talk of unsub and weapons, talk of being drugged, sickening amount of fluff, mutual masturbation, (MINORS DNI 18+)talk of sex, dirty talk, no dynamic!, and a bit more fluff :)

Word count; 3.6K

Plans had changed and you were not happy about it. The pattern in victimology had shown that the unsub targeted men who were uncomfortable in social settings. Vulnerable type. Derek, being the giant intimidating boulder of a man he was, wouldn’t have attracted the unsub.

So they were sending in Spencer. Everybody including you knew he would fit the description required for this unsub; but the thought of him being touched or hurt or flirted with by somebody that wasn’t you brought a nauseating heavy feeling in your stomach.

“What’s wrong? You’ve had a permanent frown on your face since we started this morning.”

Spencer could feel the mood thickening in the air of the hotel room as he turned to face you.

He was trying to straighten his tie, completely oblivious to the way you stared at him with a mix you could only describe as anger-lust-fear. You didn’t want to even think about how he would react to you telling him the real reason you were upset so you just sighed and shook your head.

“I just hate last minute changes. I thought we were gonna hang back, let Derek do his ‘thing’ and she’d walk out gripping his unnaturally large bicep.” You twiddled with your fingers as you mumbled an excuse to get Spencer off your back.

“What’s wrong with her walking out on my unnaturally small bicep?” he laughed, trying to lighten the mood. You rolled your eyes, forcing them away from staring at his arms and imagining yourself gripping them in a different situation.

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

It was nauseating. The way her fingernails slowly dragged along his forearm, and slipped a little underneath the rolled sleeve. Her stupid voice pitching higher to seem more cute and innocent. He really did fit the part, swallowing thickly and stumbling over his words when she leaned forward a little and exposed her chest a little more.

“Have you ever felt like your body was on fire?” she asked, face now mere inches away from his. Spencer looked over at the security camera that he knew could see them both.

“That’s it. That’s the line. Stand by Y/N, Morgan.” Hotch warned, watching the footage over the nervous shoulders of Garcia.

A young tech student from a local college had been extremely fortunate in escaping the unsub the early hours of this morning. He’d shakily mumbled about her saying about being on fire and then chugging back a pint of straight gin. He asked if she needed help and she’d told him her car was outside if he wouldn’t mind helping her get home.

But as he went to open the driver side door to get in, he noticed her giggling to herself and a gun sitting on her lap. So he ran.

Hotch was worried that his escape would either mess up the trap tonight, or completely change her M.O and she would devolve, leaving you all at another starting point. But luckily for you all, she only had one technique, and was set on using it; so here you all were.

As you stood with your back against the wall, you peeked your head ever so slightly around the bar doors; the small circular window showing the back of her head and Spencer in full view.

“God, she’s making me feel sick. Why is she so touchy? I thought she would’ve dragged him out of here by now.” Whispering with a malicious tone to your voice, Derek chucked quietly at your rage.

“Jealous? Pretty Boy’s getting some attention from a serial killer and you’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous Morgan. I’m disgusted.” sighing, you rolled your eyes.

“Y/N you know it’s my job. I’m not stupid. Anyone can see you’re completely and utterly-“

“Shut up.”

“Y/N you can change the subject all you like, everybody kno-“

“Derek, they’re gone.”

You had no visual. You couldn’t see her, nor Spencer. Not even an inch of her hair flicking into a different direction, not even a corner of Spencer’s jacket.

“Hotch?” Morgan spoke with a warning inflection into his smart watch.

Scanning the footage for where they could’ve possibly gone, Hotch hurriedly put on his Kevlar and gun before jumping out to head round the back of the bar.

“Guys, I have a visual on Reid. He’s out cold up on the V.I.P balcony. I can’t seem to find-”

Peeking again through the bar window, you didn’t have time to register what Penelope was saying nor what was happening before you felt a dull pain throb through your face. Stumbling backwards and trying to keep your balance, you noticed a warm and fuzzy feeling buzzing across your body before everything went black.

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

“Can you just shut up and pass me a spoon? I’m not kidding anymore.”

“Get it yourself. You don’t wanna listen to me, why should I listen to you?”

“You’re an asshole Derek. Just so you know. I’ve eaten Jello with a straw before, and I’ll do it again.”

“Boys, will you shut up, her eyes just moved.”

Muffled voices stirred you to consciousness as you struggled to open your eyes. Immediately sending a sharp pain to your head, the lights felt like lasers as you tried to make sense of where you were.

“Jesus H Christ, why are the lights so damn bright?”

“There she is. Good morning pretty girl.” The sweet sounds of Miss Garcia swam through your ears, and her perfume overwhelmed your senses as she leant down to kiss your cheek. “I bought you a cupcake, and I’ve made sure these two don’t touch it.”

Squinting at the two men sitting on the empty hospital bed next to yours, you laughed at the two of them. They were acting like children.

Derek had a plastic spoon in his hand, holding and waving it as far away from Spencer as he possibly could. Spencer sat cross legged, arms folded but with a sealed cup of orange jello in one hand; tutting at Derek with disappointment.

“Would anybody like to update and inform me on why on earth Penelope is babysitting us in a hospital ward?” you asked, attempting to sit up a little bit, and groaning out at how much your body ached.

Spencer almost stood up when you grimaced in pain, but stayed seated as not to look too bothered.

“We caught the unsub,” Derek began to explain, Penelope giggling when you did a silent ‘yay’ and mini jazz hands, “but she roofied Reid, which was new and discovered his badge in his jacket.” He looked over at Reid with a sarcastic look, to which he was met with shrugged shoulders and Spencer digging into his jello.

“As she came back down the stairs to make her escape, she noticed you and Derek arguing or whatever that was outside the bar doors, and snuck into the crowd to watch you. When you tried to find her, I just saw her coming towards the doors but she moved hella fast.” Penelope explained, sipping from a bright pink tumbler.

“She kicked the door that you were stood behind, and then basically jumped you until you were unconscious, but didn’t quite realise I was there. So I got her. Pretty Boy here woke up a few hours ago just hungry.”

Spencer looked up at Derek and smiled, letting everyone know he was too invested in the jello to retaliate to his sarcasm. He glimpsed over at you and smiled in a different way, which Penelope caught on to immediately.

“Anyway! The doctor said you have a lot of bruised ribs but other than that you are good to go home today! Did you want me to stay over at yours? I can bring more cupcakes?” She asked sweetly, passing you the sprinkle covered cupcake and unwrapping it for you.

She was the equivalent of a big sister and a mom to you; always looking out for you, making sure you’d eaten but also joining in on gossip and hosting alcoholic themed sleepovers. She knew about yours and Spencer’s hookups, after the one time you were accidentally too loud in the hotel room next to hers.

You’d been sat on a swivel chair in her office, begging and pleading and bribing with sweet treats and baked goods for her not to tell a soul and as far as you were aware, she stuck to her promise. With a dramatic mime of locking her lips shut, she had grabbed a croissant from your hands and turned back to her computer.

“I could - sorry - I could stay over if you’d prefer Y/N? I know we’ve got a few episodes of Black Mirror to catch up on?” Spencer jumped at the chance to interrupt, correcting himself as his volume came out louder than planned.

Nodding quickly with a huge beaming smile and a mouth full of cupcake, you could feel yourself internally healing already.

“I’d like that. If that’s okay Pen? I’ve tried to explain to him that you can’t ‘catch up’ on Black Mirror but he won’t have it.” You carried on enjoying the sugary treat, as Spencer carried on eating his; ignoring the blatant smirks being swapped between Derek and Penelope.

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

As far as you were concerned the past weekend had gone way too quickly. Coming home from hospital on Thursday evening, Spencer had stayed over and still hadn’t left.

It was just about Sunday morning, and you’d both passed out after playing cards until 3am. He’d kept you so busy and your brain occupied you’d barely had time to think about your body aching and healing. He made you laugh so hard at times you were tempted to call the emergency room back to see if they could check you in again.

You guys hadn’t kissed or barely touched except to cuddle on the couch; even then Spencer was hesitant because he was convinced he’d do more damage. But it wasn’t the aches and pains that was getting to you. It was the way you felt starved of touch and affection.

Usually you both would be particularly in the mood, would call one another up and you’d both satiate each other’s needs before maybe having a cuddle and leaving.

In all fairness, the last time you felt him was only yesterday morning when he came to give you some tea in bed. He’d sat beside you - very gently - drinking his own sugar and coffee; hand holding onto your thigh and stroking lightly. It was all too sweet. Sweeter than the concoction he made to drink every morning.

But now you’d woken up only a few hours after going to sleep, the room still a shade of blue and gray. Sunrise was on its way, but night was still present, no birdsong could be heard; but the soft hums of Spencer Reid sleeping filled the air.

You knew that Hotch had given the both of you time off, you had nowhere to be for 2 more days. You wanted oh so desperately to shake him awake, jump his bones and go several rounds until you were due in, but not only could your body not physically take it; your heart couldn’t either.

Something felt different. Unrecognised, the feeling of wanting something else flooded your thoughts. Did you want to be fucked? Did you want to lay in Spencer’s arms for the entire day and be held? Or did you want both?

The way he’d smiled over at you when you woke up in hospital made you feel like you’d driven over a speed bump, your tummy swirling around and doing backflips. How he’d stayed with you after, how he’d looked after you and listened to you this whole time.

Unbeknownst to you however, while you were deep in thought about whatever this weird feeling was; Spencer had blinked his eyes open, rested his head in one of his hands and was watching you.

“What’re you thinking about?”

You jumped, grimacing as you stretched out a rib that you definitely shouldn’t have stretched out. “I’m currently thinking about how much that hurt, how much I hate you and how much I’m going to regret being awake later.”

Spencer laughed, a slight husk from tiredness layered into it. He brought his opposite hand up and stroked up and down your spine, noticing how goosebumps formed underneath his fingertips.

“You cold?”

“No.”

“Come here.”

Slowly laying back down, you groaned out in a mixture of uncomfortableness and relief as you got back into the warm spot next to Reid. Looking over at him made you feel giddy, the way you would feel getting ready for a date or a big event. You were nervous. But why?

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours Y/N?” he asked sweetly, fingers coming up to stroke your cheek. He quickly withdrew them and cleared his throat, laying back down completely parallel beside you.

“Spencer, are you tired right now?”

“No. Are you?” He shuffled onto his side again.

“No. Quite the opposite.” with slight struggle, you mirrored his position, laying on your side and looking into his eyes with a lazy smile.

“Y/N, I can’t, you’re struggling to even lay down let alone-“

“No Spencer, I’m not hinting at sex. Although the millisecond I can, I will.” you laughed out, edging slightly closer to him. His breath hitched, and he shuffled awkwardly.

“What do you want?”

“I want to feel good Spence,”

“I thought you just said-“

“I want to feel good. So, I’m going to make myself feel good.” Your voice dropped a little, hoping that Spencer would catch on to what you were implying. Sometimes he could catch your drift, other times you would have to spell it out for him. Luckily for you, it was the former.

He nodded, waiting for you to make the next move. Watching you with intent, he began taking in each tiny detail of you.

The way you kept your eyes on his but let your hand trail down your body. The sigh of relief and arousal as you shuffled a little closer to him again, before laying on your back slowly and getting ready and comfortable. You let out a deep exhale while trailing your other hand over your chest, squeezing ever so lightly.

“Fuck Y/N. You’re really gonna do it? What if you hurt, the doctor recommended not strain-“

“Spencer, stop. I know my limits. I also know that if I don’t make myself cum soon I might actually spontaneously combust.”

He chuckled at your silliness, before remembering something. “There’s actually been less than 150 cases of spontaneous combustion recorded in almost 2000 years, so I doubt that your heightened state of arousal could cause you-“

“Spencer Reid, if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now I will make sure I’m the 150th case.”

He giggled and leant down to your lips, holding your face with one hand and holding himself up with the other arm. Pressing gently against your lips as if you were made of glass, he smiled against you; letting out a small moan as you reached up and pulled him closer into the kiss.

Your fingers circling over your clit through your panties caused you to wind your hips up against your hand gently, remembering not to overdo it. Moaning out quietly as you applied more pressure, Spencer pulled back to watch you.

“You look so beautiful Y/N.” He whispered, eyes darting between your face concentrated with pleasure and your hands roaming around your body.

He could feel himself growing and stiffening underneath his pyjama pants when you whimpered in response, and he bucked instinctively as the material grew tighter.

“Do you wanna touch yourself too Spence?” you mumbled out, movements staying the same speed but your head turning to watch him,“Touch yourself with me, feel what I’m feeling.”

“Yes, please.” Spencer laid down beside you again, his arm touching yours. Gripping himself through his pants he hissed out at the sudden contact.

Leaning your head against his shoulder, you watched to see what his next move would be; waiting to mirror him. He caught on to you copying his movements as he slipped his hands underneath his pants, a mix of a chuckle and a moan falling from his lips as you did the same.

“God this is so sexy..” Spencer moaned out louder this time, as he grasped his cock fully in his palm. Mimicking his actions, you also became a little louder; the feeling of skin touching skin becoming more and more intense.

“Tell me something Spence.” you spoke breathily, fingers applying more pressure to your clit and switching to dip inside yourself.

Curling his wrist with every sharp tug and squeezing the head of his cock every time he reached the top, all he could do was try to take deep breaths where he held them for so long.

“I thought about you. When she flirted with me.”

You wanted to pause, wondering why he brought up an unsub in the middle of such an intimate moment. But his next words only brought you closer to your brink.

“When I looked over her shoulder and saw you watching, saw the anger in your eyes. You looked so fucking mad baby. I couldn’t figure out why, but I liked it. When she touched me, I wished it was your hands. I thought about you the whole time, fuck.” Spencer squeezed his eyes shut, trying to not look at you in order to keep calm and patient with his orgasm.

“Yeah? Wished it was me leaning over you like that?” You could barely string a sentence together with how good you felt, your thighs clenching together around your wrist, your hips bucking up as much as your body allowed them to.

“Mhmm. Thought about taking you home, bending you over my couch with your uniform still on.”

“Fuck Spence. She made me so jealous, I wanted to go in there and rip her off of you. Would’ve made you mine right there at the bar.”

He hissed and groaned out, speeding up even more, matching the pace you had set yourself; aiming to finish with you.

“Fuck. I’m all yours Y/N, this cock is all fucking yours.” He was so close, throbbing and thrusting into his fist, pulling his head back so he could watch your face.

Hearing him say he was yours dragged you to the edge of your orgasm, thighs beginning to shake a little. Your wrist was growing tired but you refused to stop, too caught up in the gradually increasing pleasure.

“I’m so close honey, please,” you pulled your gaze away from where he stroked himself to meet his eyes, wanting to watch his face as he toppled over the edge too, “please tell me I can come, I wanna come for you.”

You grew needy, ignoring the ache in your torso as you writhed against your fingers, your head falling back as you felt the waves coming. Spencer watched as you slowly began to fall and crash into it.

Tugging at himself with the same speed as you, he quickly moved onto his side a little to watch you better. Pressing his lips to your neck, he bit down gently before whispering the words you needed.

“Let it go for me Y/N, you can come. Come for me,” As you slipped under the waves and felt like you were drowning in the numb yet intense pulsation, Spencer coaxed you through it as he too got carried away by his own throbbing, “that’s it baby, fuck I’m coming, oh my go-, ah fuck it feels so good.”

Spencer became quickly overwhelmed by his orgasm, rolling onto his back again as he carried on spilling onto his stomach. Continuing to slowly rub yourself, you came down from your crescendo and watched as he worked himself through his.

“Fuck Spencer, there’s so much.” Leaving little kisses along his shoulder, you giggled sweetly as he tensed with the aftershocks and tried to catch his breath. He grinned with a post-orgasm smile and turned his head to nestle against the top of yours.

“Are you okay?” Spencer murmured into your hair, leaving a little kiss on the crown of your head. Simply nodding against his shoulder, you attempted to shuffle closer but forgot how tense your body had been in its peak.

“Fuck. Can you help me?” Giggling and wincing at the same time as an attempt to sit up. Spencer laughed at you sweetly, sitting himself up quickly and snaking an arm underneath your back.

Pulling you up smoothly, he left a light kiss against your temple before slipping his other arm underneath your legs and hoisting you up.

“Wait, where are we going?” You whined out, wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders. He walked the two of you into the en-suite and set you down gently on the counter.

“I am going to get us cleaned up,” he smiled at you before getting a washcloth ready, “and then we’re going to talk about us.”

He began to wipe the washcloth across his chest and his stomach, looking up curiously when you asked, “Us?”

“Wait. What you said about- when you said that thing about making me yours? Did I completely misread that? Because I feel- I thought it was obvious that I felt-“ He stumbled, self consciousness creeping in slowly as he realised he may have taken it too far.

But you smiled softly, grabbing the cloth from his hands and pulling him to rest between your legs. At least he’d cleared the air for you. You didn’t feel remotely nervous anymore.

Cupping his face in your hands and stroking along his jaw with each thumb, you pulled him in for a delicate kiss. Grinning against his lips, he returned the motion and kissed you once more.

“The feeling is mutual, Spencer.”

[yeojaa]

GIRL we need a devil in a new suit drabble where jungkook gets jealous pls bless us😭😭❤️

[ read devil in a new suit ]

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  kook being hilarious and naive, reader being a little frustrated but head over heels, smut in the form of:  titty sucking (kook is a big boob guy in this), cunnilingus, kook wanting to love you forever.  wc.  2.1k.  author note.  i am... so in love with this couple so what was meant to be a “kook gets jealous and breaks reader’s back” turned into... this.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t get jealous.  Not because he doesn’t care, or he’s unaffected, or any other negative connotation under the sun.  He doesn’t because he’s him, too soft and sweet and silly to believe the worst in people.  (This, coming from the man who’d steered clear of dating apps and blind dates because he was worried he’d be hurt.)

Once, you’d been waiting for him to pick you - he’d been running late, dinner with his parents and younger sister - and he’d found you chatting politely to an old fling of yours.  Well, maybe not so old.  A recent fling, a friend of sorts.  Someone who’d swanned into your life during your college years and had remained there ever since, popping his head in from time to time. 

You’d always been on good terms, caught up for lunch every six months or so when he’d return home from his overseas job.  In the past, you’d found familiarity in the shape of his hands, the neon outline of his almond eyes and pouting lips.  He was good in bed, as charming between the sheets as he was on the street.

But your heart belonged to Jungkook now - had, before you’d even realised it - and Taewoo was just another guy.  Another face in a crowd.

Still, you’d thought your beloved boyfriend would have some sort of reaction.  Maybe a quirk of his perfectly groomed brows, a certain tightness belying his displeasure in the softly peaked bow of his mouth.  You’d spied neither after extracting yourself from the hug and waving goodbye.  Jungkook had been sunshine and sweetness, opening your door for you and stamping a kiss to your cheek.  

That night, he’d loved you how he always had, with you crying his name and making a mess of his sheets.

Another time, you’d been at a work function.  One of those ridiculous galas you loved, full of women in their highest heels and men in their swankiest watches.  (You’d worn Aquazzura that night, Jungkook with an Audemars Piguet loose around his wrist.)  

He’d stuck close to your side, far more interested in the way your dress hugged your figure, cut intimidatingly high over your thigh and revealed the swell of your ass at juuuust the right angle.  Yejin had been the only one to tear him away, insisting on shots that you knew she couldn’t handle.  Anything went if free booze was involved.

Thirty minutes later - give or take, since you hadn’t had a watch of your own on - your boyfriend had returned, flushed and adorable.  There’d been a garden of colour creeping over the expanse of his chest, peeking around the collar of his shirt and disappearing into his neatly tousled strands.  He’d giggled his way back to you, somehow completely oblivious to the man that’d found you at your table and settled himself into the spot labelled Jeon Jungkook.

The imposter had been affronted, gaze narrowed at the younger man who was a little too loose, a little too smiley.  Wholly out of place at an event like this, where people spent too much time up their own asses, noses held aloft and business cards exchanged.  

(One of the reasons you loved Jungkook so much.  He was a breath of fresh air in a world you thrived in - found humour in, at the very least - carrying you high above the clouds with the sound of his laughter.)

“Hi, baby.”  Your darling boy smothered you in kisses, traced them up and over the exposed expanse of your shoulder, nosing against your skin, utterly unbothered by the man shooting him daggers, wishing him ill from the spot he’d wrongly claimed.  

Of course, he’d thought Jungkook was making a point - claiming what was his - but that was so far from the truth you’d almost laughed when he’d spoken, voice carrying above the slightly laboured breaths of your lover.  “I guess that’s my cue to leave, huh?”

You’d smiled, nodded with a hand threaded into cornsilk curling over Jungkook’s nape.  “Looks like it.”

(Then your idiot love - your big-hearted moron, your doe-eyed baby - had come up for air, cheek resting in the palm of his hand.  “Where’s your friend?”  He’d asked, eyes so wide you couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his question.)

Such was the kind of person Jungkook was, with an unwavering belief in the goodness of others, a silver thread outlining everyone’s silhouette.  You sometimes wondered what it would take to drive him to any sort of displeasure, any sort of emotion beyond quiet melancholy (seldom seen but heavily felt, when the rare occasions rose) or easygoing amicability (his default setting).  Not that you’d ever push to see that, of course.

You were happy.  Hopelessly in love.  You wouldn’t have traded him for the world - couldn’t even fathom doing anything to hurt him.  

And yet, you discover albeit by accident - it’s really not that hard.  All it takes is a pretty girl.

“This looks incredible,”  she says, standing close, long dark hair falling in a fluid curtain down the line of her back.  It’s the loveliest shade, cool-toned beneath the boutique lights, and reflects colour like a waterfall.  You’d complimented her on it when you’d stepped into the fitting area, a handful of hangers set across the rolling rack.

Fingers smooth over embroidery, revelling in the feeling of it over your skin.  It’s a beautiful thing, black tulle that hangs to your fingertips.  Not Jungkook’s preferred style - he much prefers harnesses and so many straps it might as well be a cat’s cradle - but you think he loves it nonetheless. 

(You’d confirm, but he’s been stoically silent, seated in the plush chair tucked beside the privacy partition, normally soft gaze hard and trained on his phone.  He doesn’t seem very much in the mood to talk, hardly reacting with each outfit change.  A nod here, a smile there.  Not even the most scandalous of the options - a black corset decorated in Leavers lace - had elicited his usual enthusiasm.)  

“You think so?”  You’re not insecure about your body - know what it looks best in, which assets to play up.  Still, it’s nice to hear from someone other than your doting boyfriend, the people caught in your orbit.  

The sales associate nods, beams at you in the multiple mirrors.  A hand of her own drifts over the thin strap of the slip - an innocent gesture that dislodges wayward strands of hair from beneath.  “Of course— and I’m not just saying that because I’m trying to sell it.” 

You nod, satisfied.  Even if Jungkook doesn’t seem ecstatic, your own joy makes up for it, buyer’s delight spilling over.  “I’ll take the satin robe, the blush silk set, and this in the violet.”  

“Great choices,”  she hums, pulling back the curtain to the adjoining change room to allow you privacy.  Silence follows as you slip the delicate number off, returning it to its hanger.  You don’t expect when the brunette continues speaking - presumably to your surprisingly surly boyfriend.  “Don’t you agree?” 

“Yep.”  He’s never been a man of few words, usually so full of excitement that he rambles when he doesn’t mean to.  

It’s a dead giveaway - a confirmation that something’s wrong.

Unfortunately for you, you don’t have time to broach the subject, your purchases already paid for and a firm hand on the small of your back the moment you’ve stepped out of the dressing stall.  “Jungkookie?”  You mean it quietly, just for the two of you, but falter when he slots his fingers between yours and all but tugs you out of the boutique.  You hardly even have a chance to toss the helpful girl an apologetic smile, imposing glass swinging shut behind you.

“Men—men are fine.  I don’t have to worry about them.”  There’s a confidence you’re so proud to see, turning his words as solid as the weight that rests against your hip, sears burning heat into your bared skin.  “No other man is going to love you better than me.  But women?”  A shudder runs the length of his imposing frame, tugs his shoulders up to his ears and tingles the small of his back.  “Women are scary.”  (It’s a sentiment he’s echoed in the past.  In particular, months ago when you’d insisted he dive into the dating scene.)

Hands thread through his too-soft strands, twirl the ends around your fingers as he speaks, nearly muffled into the crook of your shoulder.  He’s being so tender, giving you all the love he has to offer as he writes his insecurities into your skin, offers them with the wet of his tongue.

“A woman might sweep you off your feet and steal you away.”

You laugh then - sound snapping past your teeth before you can tuck it away.  It filters loudly into the baies scented candle you’d lit when you’d gotten into his apartment.  

Jungkook whines in response - a terribly endearing sound that makes you roll your eyes but only with affection (always with that) - and buries his face into your tits, sucking your nipple into his mouth with complete disregard for the tulle that acts as a barrier.  Saliva stains the material, makes it stick to your hardened bud as he laves over it with his tongue - bites surprisingly gently - and tugs it just hard enough to have you keening.

“S-s’not funny,”  he huffs, palming your other breast in his broad tattooed palm.  When he continues, he bites into you like he’s got a personal vendetta against whatever lies beneath your flesh.  “She was flirting with you.”  

It’s less of a sigh of annoyance - more sensual, drowning in need.  “She was not.”

He nips at the delicate flesh again, spreads crimson marks all across the sensitive skin until it’s a mosaic beneath the fabric, his finest work painted by his second favourite brush.  “That’s what you think but she was.”  The hand previously kneading your skin drops, flat of his palm sliding easily over your bare pussy.  

There’s zero hesitation when he slots his fingers on either side of your clit, catches the delicate pearl against the webbing of his hand and applies pressure that has you bucking beneath him.  It’s not nearly as aggressive as he normally is but it’s just as good, paired with the sinful motions of his tongue and teeth. 

“She wants to be the one doing this,”  he continues, saliva pooling across your chest, slipping into the valley of your breasts only to be licked up by the flat of his tongue.  He continues even once you’re clean, skin sticky and a little gross but so erotic it makes you quiver.  Then he descends, pushes the hem of your new slip higher, and licks another stripe from the joint of your thigh up to your belly button.  Repeats it again, moving lower with each pass until he’s sucking your clit into his mouth.  “She wants to be the one tasting this pretty, pretty pussy.”

You reach for his hand - the one somewhere near your ribs, side of his wrist soothing against the ladder of bones - and tangle your fingers together as he drives you mad, tip of his tongue switching between sweet kitten licks and tantalising figure eights.

“Baby,”  you coax, reprimand almost.  Jungkook’s never this lenient, never this sweet on you (not inside the bedroom, at least).  It brings you to a different high, his love folded into lovely origami cranes you tuck into your pockets and the spot you’ve carved out for him within your chest.

“Sing for me, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t mean literally - refers instead to the sound of your voice when it leaps three octaves, bounces between sultry and singed, burnt at the edges by the fire he brings to life. 

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.”  Despite how the words muffle, come broken between the glide of his tongue within your fluttering walls, you can hear the sincerity in them.  The earnestness that begs you to promise him this simple thing.  “Not for her.  Not for anyone.”  

“I won’t leave you,”  you answer, threading the vow between your fingers as if they’re the thread binding your love story together.  “Not for her - not for anyone.”

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi. I hope you had/are having a great summer break. I (INTP) am hoping for some perspective about an issue. Recently, my mother, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, became incredibly frustrated that I corrected her with an alleged “I know everything” attitude.

It’s an issue of concern because she revealed that I always do this. I guess this was the straw that broke it, especially given that what we were discussing was very trivial. (Maybe the frivolousness of the subject is precisely what made my correction seem more pedantic, unnecessary, arrogant.) She says that my attitude disregards her long life experience, and that if she were a stranger, she would think of me as a “snot-nosed brat who knows nothing about life” instead of as a “wise young person”, which is the viable alternative. She said that I am closed-minded and that I shoot everything down. (The problem of small-mindedness is what you addressed the only other time I wrote to you.)

I don’t know why I come off as arrogant. I’m sure that I’m not. I asked my mother what it was that made her think that, which she thought was a silly question because what she sensed was a general demeanor rather than specific behaviors. In the end we were only able to establish that my lack of eye contact was one of those factors. I can work on that, but surely that’s not determinant. What makes people think of others as arrogant? Should I stop correcting people? I don’t correct others in order to feel superior to them. I do it because I like to debate, in order to keep my thinking sharp, and because there is something painful about friends/family having false notions. I think it’s fair to say that my intention isn’t rooted in arrogant soils.

Granted, my suggestion of stopping correcting people is black-and-white, given that there is the grey option of changing the *way* I correct people. I’m just wondering if it’s an unhealthy habit in the first place. But given how prevalent a thought process it is (i.e. questioning people’s statements and finding faults), the process of getting rid of it may be akin to self-directed psychological violence. I mean, this is the same mode of being that makes me good at what I’m good at. (There’s also the option of keeping the thought process, but not correcting people aloud, but I don’t know what else there is to talk about other than analyzing ideas and their faults. Maybe I should analyze ideas for their strengths too, and express that side more than the faults.)

So anyway, let’s go with grey: So far I’ve tried thinking of an arrogant person that I know in order to understand my behavior, but I can’t think of anyone. Also, no matter how hard I try to put myself in someone else’s shoes in order to simulate an interaction with myself, it doesn’t really work, and I can’t see the arrogance, except if I were to just tell someone “that’s wrong” without any explanation. (I wonder if that’s what went wrong in the conversation with my mother.) Either way, this whole issue boils down to the fact that I’m not arrogant by any reasonable criteria that I found online, but that I come off as such. This was longer than intended. Thanks for your kindness and help.

-----------------------

Here are some questions for you to reflect on. They are meant to increase awareness of your underlying assumptions, beliefs, and values. Answer honestly:

Do you care about your mom? Do you care about how she's faring, what she's experiencing, what she's thinking or feeling, what she needs and desires, what she hopes for or aspires to, etc?

If you care, how do you SHOW your care to her?

If you don't care, how does that affect your behavior toward her?

Do you believe that the mother-child relationship only goes one-way? (Is it the mom's job to do for you but you owe her nothing?)

You say you like to debate to sharpen your mind. Innocent enough. I like to roller skate to keep myself physically fit. In an ideal world, I would never take my skates off. Does my enthusiasm for roller skating mean that I slap my skates on anywhere, any time? No. Surely it is inappropriate to skate around a hospital or the supermarket. Not only could I seriously harm myself, I would also be exhibiting flagrant disregard for the safety and well-being of others.

What you like to do for yourself sometimes comes into conflict with other people. If you care about people and hope to have healthy and happy relationships with them, you have to take their needs and wants into consideration in every interaction. You have to abide by ethical rules and principles that allow your needs to be met without neglecting the needs of others or interfering with their ability to get their needs met. Without ethics, society wouldn't be able to function, because it would just be a free-for-all.

You mention small-mindedness. It is quite small-minded to walk around the world only thinking about what you need/want. In the best case scenario, you are completely oblivious to others, and they will perceive you as clueless or self-absorbed. In the worst case scenario, you only interact with people for your own personal gain, and that would make you an exploitative or even abusive person. Is that the kind of person you want to be?

Do you basically treat people as though their sole purpose on earth is to debate you and help you sharpen your mind - to serve you? Do you launch into debates with people without asking for consent or checking to see if they want to be corrected? If you do, they will call you arrogant, not because you've put yourself on a pedestal and call yourself superior like an evil cartoon character, but because you are communicating to them that your needs/wants are most important AND you don't give a damn about theirs.

Webster's definition of arrogance: "an insulting way of thinking or behaving that comes from believing that you are better, smarter, or more important than other people". You believe that you know better, otherwise, you wouldn't grant yourself the social authority to intrude on people's boundaries, invalidate their experience, and correct them uninvited. You believe that you are smarter, otherwise, you wouldn't automatically assume the dominant social role of corrector. You behave as though you are the more important member of the relationship because your main priority is YOUR need to feel better (about your skills or about what others believe) while overlooking the other person's needs. Seems like you fit the definition quite well.

Despite that, I wouldn't call you arrogant because I understand that small-mindedness is a difficult problem to overcome. I see the effort that you're putting in to understand it. I'm charitable because I'm not the one who was hurt by your behavior. When people feel hurt, they often have difficulty expressing it. Maybe it comes out clumsily or they aren't able to explain their hurt without hurting you in return. Expressing one's true feelings is to make oneself vulnerable. If someone doesn't trust you to understand and validate their feelings or, worse, they believe that you will attack them for their feelings, they will not be completely honest with you. Your mom is trying her best to give you the benefit of the doubt by saying "if you were a stranger...", but she doesn't feel comfortable enough with you to express her hurt fully and explicitly as it happens. Why? Because the very reason she is hurt in the first place is that you have shown very little regard for her feelings. Following from the previous post of yours, the root of the problem is that you have such a poor understanding of feelings to begin with that you view them as inconsequential in yourself and others (very immature Fe).

I believe you have no ill-intent. I have said before that the typical Ti dom never sets out to hurt people on purpose. Rather, they hurt people unintentionally because their perspective is too small: 1) they don't grasp that other people's needs may be very different from their own and thereby fail to consider them, 2) they don't know how to empathize with different perspectives and validate them, and/or 3) they don't understand that SHOWING love and care is necessary for people to justify continued investment in the relationship.

In other words, Ti doms tend to hurt people out of negligence or acts of omission. Some of them get frustrated at not being able to solve their relationship problems. They might try to convince themselves that doing nothing means that no harm can be done, so they adopt a passive stance in the relationship and perhaps even train themselves to keep their mouth shut (self-violence). They fail to understand that there's more than one way to cause hurt. Instead of learning better relationship skills, they check out mentally and emotionally. Being checked out only makes it worse because you hurt yourself and you keep hurting others by being even less attentive to their needs.

The foundation of meaningful relationships is showing care. In a healthy relationship, people trust you to care for their emotional needs and not violate their personal boundaries. If you only attend to your own needs/wants in social interaction, you are signalling that you don't really care about the other person. This problem with your mom shows that you give little to no consideration for emotional needs and personal boundaries. If you don't want friends, it's entirely your choice to be alone for the rest of your life, pretending that you never leave any footprints behind you. If you want friends, you'll have to put out more effort to be a better friend, by paying more attention to the consequences of your behavior.

Doing things that violate trust and boundaries, even if unintentional, causes hurt. When people feel hurt and don't feel safe to express the hurt, they are liable to say/do negative things. To have good emotional intelligence is to see past the surface of their negative words/behavior and grasp the underlying emotional needs that were unmet and/or the personal boundaries that were violated. Only then can you be a morally responsible member of a relationship, in terms of owning all the ways that you impact people, both positively and negatively.

Arrogant people don't care about the social impact they produce. As long as they get what they want and don't lose anything, the existence of others is of little importance to them. If your mom is important to you, then learn how to show it better by listening to her when she tells you about her needs/wants. You hyperfocus on the literal meaning of the word "arrogant" and whether it is true/false of you, as though proving it false means that there's nothing wrong. You need to listen to the people you have hurt, if you want to understand why your behavior is hurtful. Alternatively, you need to educate yourself about emotional needs, interpersonal boundaries, and what constitutes un/ethical behavior and why.

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 14 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3.7k

Part 14 - Gaunt Manor

The weeks after Nagini had shed and you had added her skin into the antidote got more and more exhausting. The potion needed tending up to twelve times a day now and unfortunately, you didn’t own a time turner. Both Tom and you had not gotten a full night’s sleep in a while and it started to show. Every day that went by seemed to last for an eternity while the circles under your eyes carved deeper and deeper by the minute. 

The curriculum had gotten more challenging, as the teachers were preparing their students for the N.E.W.T.s. Homework was harder and more time consuming than in any other year before and you had to study for hours afterwards as well. These things alone were enough to wear out most students from year seven. Because of that, thankfully no one got suspicious of how drained you looked. Except for Camille. She had started to ask a lot of uncomfortable questions whenever you had left to take care of the potion. She knew you too well. Sneaking out every two hours to go to the Come and Go Room on top of your studies and school work had drained you to the point where you must have looked like a walking corpse.

One day, when Professor Leveret had dismissed you after an exceptionally long Astronomy lesson in the late evening, you had reached your breaking point and were on the brink of tears, pondering about failing every single subject at the end of the term. There was little to no energy left inside of you. So little, you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry, but merely stared into space with reddened eyes and parted lips. Tom brought you to his room that night and went to the Come and Go Room alone. And when you were in bed, you were too tired to fall asleep. How ironic. You never knew that was even possible. But once you weren’t distracted anymore, your mind started to wander. It was impossible to keep up with everything at once. You would either fail your N.E.W.T.s or spoil the potion. The latter would be worse of course and for no price would you let your sister down, so you mentally prepared yourself to either leave Hogwarts without graduating or repeat your entire seventh year. Oh, there were the tears. Finally. They ran and flowed along with hollow sobs and wouldn’t stop now that they were coming. 

What if the Gaunts were so appalled by your failure that they would call the wedding off before you could cure Elsie? They could easily paint you as a disgrace for not completing school and make your sister pay for it. No matter how it would turn out, they would take it out on her. The plan had worked so well until now and yet you were still desperately trapped inside Marvolo’s web. 

Half an hour must have passed when Tom came back. The cushion beneath you was damp from the tears that had rolled down your cheeks and you held your breath to prevent another whimper from escaping your mouth. You hastily wiped your face and turned your back on him, trying to breathe slowly and act as if you were asleep. But he noticed, of course. And even his well-chosen words of comfort couldn’t ease your mind. You couldn’t let yourself fall into his touch and allow yourself to drift off to sleep because you knew that in two hours, the circle would start once again.

The next day, when you sat on Tom’s sofa together to study for Transfiguration, and you had just started reading the same paragraph for the third time since you just couldn’t concentrate, it just rolled off your tongue.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Tom looked up from his book. “What, the twentieth chapter? I just-”

“No, not this,” you sighed and threw your book on the coffee table. “I mean everything. This whole situation. It’s too much.”

“Well,” he said and laid his book aside too. “It certainly is a challenging time. The N.E.W.T.s, the schoolwork and the antidote.”

Challenging was an understatement.

“I just need a full night’s sleep, or two,” you mumbled. “And you do too. We need help, it’s inevitable.”

“Help?” he asked, brows raised. “What do you have in mind? Ask Hilt to look after the potion?”

His expression changed once he had seen how you shifted. “No. Don’t tell me that’s what you were thinking.”

“I thought about asking Camille for help. She wouldn’t tell anyone and she’s always been great at Potions,” you explained. “And then I thought, Ben would ask her where she’s going all the time. He wouldn’t leave her alone anyway. So I considered telling them both.”

Tom looked like he had been petrified for a second, not moving a muscle. “But you’d have to tell him about the pact.”

“I know.”

“That’s what he was after since the beginning.”

“Yes. But I think we can trust him.”

“You think?” he asked. “Why, because he’s stopped Freda’s quill? That’s enough to gain your trust?”

“It’s not like we have a lot of options, Tom,” you replied, slowly but surely getting annoyed by his constant suspicions. “Camille wouldn’t be with him if he was a snitch.”

“We will just plan better. It won’t be easy, but we-”

“No. This is too much work for two people. Just look at us. We’re both barely keeping up. It won’t be long until we’re completely worn out. We need help.”

Tom’s brows were furrowed, still not convinced even if he understood. You stretched out your hand towards him and waited for him to hold it.

“If we don’t ask for help we’re going to mess up. I’ll either fail my N.E.W.T.s or the antidote won’t be finished. No matter what happens, Elsie will pay for it. Please.”

Camille and Ben looked at Tom and you like you had both lost your minds when you took them to the seventh floor. They had asked so many questions on the way there, but you were far too tired to answer them all. Besides, they would just be able to see for themselves in a bit.

When you had arrived, you said to them once more: “I’m going to show you something now. And it is unbelievably important that you understand this needs to stay between us. No one else must know.”

Camille and Ben nodded, both with serious and still confused looks on their faces.

“And might I add,” Tom said as he looked directly at Ben. “That my memory charm is very powerful. If you can’t keep your mouth shut I’ll obliviate you and I might even make you forget that you have magic running through your veins.”

Ben nodded again. “Alright mate, I got it.”

The door to the Come and Go Room appeared and the two wore the same expression that you must have had when you had first seen it. 

“Come in,” you said as you opened the door.

The room was a bit tight with the four of you in there. You stirred the liquid inside the cauldron like you did each time while Ben and Camille looked around curiously. 

“A potions room?” Camille asked once the door had been closed. “Now, can you please tell us what’s going on?”

You looked at Tom, who stared back at you, lips pressed together and still unsure if what you were about to do was a good idea. But still, he nodded. He had every right to be suspicious, you had to admit now that you had brought them there. But Camille was to be trusted and frankly, you were far too tired to think of any consequences.

So you began to tell them everything from where it all had started, a day before the school year, at your house. Camille knew half of the story already, but once you told them about the Gaunts and that they were the ones who had cursed Elsie, she stood there wide-eyed, just like Ben.

“And this is why I wanted to ask you both for your help with the potion,” you said once you had told them every detail. “If you don’t mind of course. If you’re willing to help, everyone would just have to come here three times a day. That would make our lives a lot easier.”

They didn’t even need to look at each other and nodded right away.

“Of course,” Camille said. “It all makes sense now. Oh, you must be exhausted. Twelve times a day?”

“I can come more often if you want,” Ben chimed in. “I don’t have as much to do as you, my N.E.W.T.s are still a year away and I wouldn’t have bothered studying much this year anyway.”

“What a surprise,” Tom muttered, even though there was a hint of a smirk on his face.

“One more question,” Ben said. “What about the last ingredient? Banshee tears you said, right? Where are you going to get those?”

“Well. That’ll be the final obstacle.”

“My uncle owns a flask,” Tom explained. “He and my Grandfather will be out next week and we’ll go and try to get them. Our house-elves will be on high alert however, so it’s going to be risky.”

“So,” Ben said. “When are we going?” 

“We?” Camille and you asked simultaneously.

“You can’t sneak your way in anyway with the elves around, right?” he said. “Four people are a better distraction than two. I’m in.”

“You weren’t even invited in,” Tom said.

“I don’t care,” Ben shrugged. “I’m still in if you need me.”

Tom sighed as he walked in circles around the cauldron, his hand covering his mouth while he considered Ben’s offer. “As much as I hate to admit it,” he then said. “I think you might be right. A distraction could be of benefit.”

“See?” Ben chuckled. “The muggleborn isn’t that dumb after all.”

“Oh brush off the arrogance, Hilt. We don’t have the flask yet.”

“Boys, please. Let’s discuss that another time and let me show you how to tend to the potion.”

You spent the following week planning for Saturday, when the Gaunts would leave their manor to attend the honouring of the Order of Merlin. You had also gotten some most needed hours of sleep. Not only that but just knowing that Camille and Ben were taking some weight off your shoulders made it much easier to concentrate on school and homework as well. 

On Saturday evening, when you met at the fireplace connected to the Floo-Network, you went over your plan again.

“And don’t forget,” Tom said. “There are two house-elves. They’re loud, but not very bright. Much like Gryffindors.”

Camille stifled a laugh and looked over to Ben.

“Mate,” Ben replied. “Can you stop bullying me? I’m helping you out here.”

“Sorry,” Tom answered and bit the inside of his cheek. “I was just joking.”

“Oh yes. Riddle’s first joke in eighteen years and of course I take the fall.”

“Guys,” you scolded. “Get it together. Do you remember everything?”

“Yes,” Camille replied. “We are Theresa Carrow and Connor Prewett, your new and very pureblooded friends. We’ll be distracting the house-elves while Tom and you look for the flask. Once you got it, Tom will obliviate them and we'll come right back here.”

“Alright then,” you said as you watched Tom disappearing inside the fireplace. “See you there.”

The green flames consumed you whole once you let the Floo Powder fall and transported you swiftly to Gaunt manor, where you found yourself in a dark hallway, the reception hall, perhaps. 

Tom was there already and offered his hand for you to step out of the fireplace. Camille came next, followed right by Ben. Before you could say anything, you heard two raspy, high-pitched voices coming your way.

“Who is it?” one voice asked. “Master? Is it you?”

“Show yourselves,” the other voice croaked and the elf snapped her fingers, making all the candles around the room light up. It still was dim, but you could see them a bit better now. Both of them were wrinkly and old, their faces scrunched up in suspicion. They didn’t look like the elves at your home at all but were hunching and worn out, completely different to Tummy. The male elf, Scrook, missed a large piece of his left ear and the female one, Hokey, walked with a severe limp.

“Master Riddle,” Scrook said once he had detected him and bowed tediously. “What do we owe the honour? Master Gaunt didn’t tell us you would visit today.”

“He didn’t?” Tom asked. “He must have forgotten. I told him that I’d come by today. Isn’t he here?”

“No Master,” Hokey answered. “They just left thirty minutes ago. Should we inform them for you?”

“Not necessary. I just wanted to treat my friends to dinner, you see. May I introduce you to Miss Carrow, Mister Prewett, and my fiancée.”

“Oh, networking, yes,” Scrook said and bowed once again. “Welcome to Gaunt manor.”

“Shall we prepare some food for you, Master?” Hokey asked.

“Certainly. Bring my guests to the sitting room, will you? I’ll join in a bit.”

“Of course, Master. Of course.”

The two elves escorted Camille and Ben to the back, bickering and wrangling like an old couple.

“Quick now,” Tom whispered to you and walked the opposite way, towards the basement. The whole mansion was cold and dark, mahogany bleakly spread across the floors and even on some walls. The marble staircase in the entrance hall might have looked impressive, but only added to the frigid aesthetic of the house.

“Allow me to ask, Mister Prewett,” Scrook said while Ben and Camille took a seat. “What magical family do you belong to? I’ve never heard your last name before.”

“I, uh. I’m related to the Black family,” Ben said.

“The noble and most ancient house of Black,” Hokey crowed. “What an honour.”

The corridor to Morfin’s chamber was long, you had walked there for at least a minute, and it got even colder with every step you took. When you finally reached the door at the far end, Tom halted and you took a deep breath. Tom turned the doorknob, but the entry remained closed. 

“Locked,” he said. “Alohomora.”

The door stayed shut. Tom frowned. That would have been too easy.

“A different spell?” you asked. “Or is there a key somewhere?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s a charm.”

Merlin’s beard. What could it be? You thought about what Morfin could have done to lock the door. Something that only he or Marvolo would be able to use.

“What about Parseltongue?” you asked. “Does Morfin know it too?”

“Yes,” Tom answered and proceeded to speak unfamiliar words in the language. The doorknob clicked and sprung open by itself. “There we go.”

Meanwhile, in the sitting room, one of the elves got more and more interested in Ben and Camille’s backstory. “Can Scrook offer you a drink Miss? Sir?” he asked, while Hokey was busy in the kitchen. “Please, if you don’t mind, Mister Prewett. Would you tell me how exactly you’re related to Arcturus Black? Master Morfin is on good terms with him and I wonder why I’ve never heard of you before.”

When you entered Morfin’s chamber you were surprised by its size. It was almost as large as the entire Potions classroom in Hogwarts. Dead bats and shrunken heads were hanging down from the low ceiling here and there, along with strange feathers and strings that must have been some creature’s strands of hair. Despite its size, the room was crammed with bottles, finished potions and ingredients of all sorts. It wasn’t messy, not at all, but very chaotic for anyone unfamiliar. 

“Morfin arranges everything by type,” Tom said. “Liquids from living creatures must be in this corner then.”

You both started opening the drawers and looked for anything that could possibly be Banshee tears.

Ben and Camille still got cross-examined by Scrook. “Interesting, interesting. Mister Black is your great-uncle, you say. Have you met him lately?“

In the chamber, you had searched for over ten minutes already, and gone through hundreds of little flasks. The number of different liquids in this room must have been in the thousands. Slughorn’s stock was absurdly small compared to this. 

“Can’t we just use a summoning charm?” you sighed, going through your fifteenth drawer of vials filled with animal blood.

“No,” Tom said while closing a drawer. “The elves would notice it immediately.”

You shoved yet another drawer shut. “Bloody hell. What if it’s hidden?”

“That’s possible,” he mumbled, still scanning over all the flasks inside the cupboard.

“Wait,” you said. “What if we’re looking in the wrong place?”

“All liquids are here, as I said.”

“Yes, but I just remembered. Slughorn said this years ago. Banshee tears when stored, turn into tiny, pearly white crystals.”

Tom lifted his head to look at you.

“Where are the solids stored?” 

He pointed at the opposite corner of the room. “Over there.”

At the same time, Hokey brought appetizers into the sitting room. “Enjoy,” she grumbled, her tone not fitting her kind words at all.

“Thank you,” Ben said after he and Camille had taken some canapés from the tray.

Both elves froze in shock, deeply offended. “Sir, you have not just thanked Hokey, have you?” Scrook asked.

“Of course not,” Camille stated, holding her head high. “What are you thinking? He thanked me for handing him a canapé.”

“I see,” Scrook said, eyes narrowed. “I’ll go and look for Master Riddle now. He’s taking awfully long, whatever he’s doing.”

“No!” Camille and Ben shouted which lead the elf to turn back around.

“No,” Camille repeated, her voice a lot calmer. “I’d like to know more about this house. Can you tell us how long you have worked for the Gaunts?”

In the chamber, you went through the flasks and glass containers on the other side of the room, where the solid ingredients were stored, while Tom still roamed the liquids. And finally, between fairy wings and unicorn liver, lay a tiny flask of Banshee tears.

“Got it,” you called. “There it is.” 

Tom walked right over and checked out the flask too. “Good girl, very smart thinking.”

You lightly pushed him with your elbow for what he had just called you and smiled. “Let’s go.”

Scrook had gotten disturbingly close to Ben. “I’ll gladly tell you all about this house, Miss,” he said, not taking his eyes off the boy. “When Mister Prewett reveals his real name.”

“My real name?” Ben asked. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not a pureblood, are you?” the elf hissed. “I can smell it.”

“Excuse you, elf!” Camille bellowed. She was a much better actress than Ben. “You surely didn’t mean to insult Mister Prewett in that way. I must have misheard you. Now apologise.”

Before they knew it, Scrook had gripped Ben’s hand and pulled it towards his own face, sniffing at the inside of Ben’s underarm. “I knew it!” the elf yelled. “Mudblood! Hokey quick, alarm the Masters!”

Hokey came running in from the kitchen at the same time as Tom and you arrived in the sitting room. All three of you stood there in the archway and looked at Camille, Ben and Scrook in disbelief.

“Traitors!” Scrook screamed and accidentally knocked the tray of canapés off the table. “What have you done, Master Riddle? Bringing a mudblood into these halls.”

Ben had finally wrenched his arm away from the elf, holding on to it tightly while standing up straight, his chest heaving.

“The Masters must know,” Scrook whined and turned around. “We have to tell them immediately, Hokey.”

“Enough,” Camille said as she rose from her seat. “Stupefy!”

In an instant, Scrook fell to the floor without another word, completely unconscious. Hokey let out a yelp at the sight, turned around and ran toward the kitchen. 

“Quick, before she apparates,” you shouted.

“Stupefy,” Tom called with his wand pointed at Hokey. “We don’t have much time. The charm wears off on elves much quicker than on humans.”

Ben and Tom dragged the two elves to the entrance hall and dropped them next to the fireplace, while Camille cleaned up the mess on the floor, where the canapés had landed.

When you had gathered by the fireplace again, Scrook already opened his eyes, blinking slowly.

“Leave,” Tom urged and pointed his wand at the elves. “Obliviate.”

Camille went first and disappeared into the flames, followed by Ben and you.

Back in Hogwarts, when Tom stepped out of the fireplace, you finally felt like you were able to breathe again.

“We did it,” you said and fell into his arms. “I can’t believe we really did it.”

Tom held you for a moment, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, then moved his head and looked at Ben when he let go. “What happened?”

Ben still hadn’t calmed down. He rubbed his hands on his trousers repeatedly and shook his head. “I don’t know. They were shocked when I thanked them for serving us food. Then the elf said he could smell that I’m not a pureblood.”

“You thanked them?” Tom asked. “Elves don’t accept that.”

“How am I supposed to know that? I’ve never seen a house-elf before.”

“Forget about that now,” Camille interrupted. “Did you get them? The Banshee tears.”

“Yes,” you said and pulled them out of your pocket. “We got them.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

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[spockandawe]

So this morning, I tripped across this excellent post about Xue Yang and classism, and it shook something loose in my head. Specifically, it got me thinking about the idea of Xue Yang taking revenge for ‘only’ losing a finger. Xiao Xingchen doesn’t say anything as directly dismissive as saying he only lost a finger, but I do think that is at least partially the way that Xue Yang takes the argument.

And I’ve thought a lot and said a lot of words about the way Xue Yang feels hurt and betrayed and frustrated as he tries to explain himself to someone, for once, and that person completely misses his point. And I’ve said words about how in the three years in Yi City, Xue Yang gets hooked on the quiet comfort of domesticity, even if he and Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing are still, objectively, poor. But I’d never thought about this particular angle of their last argument before now.

This is going to be long, I can tell, so let’s throw a spoiler cut in here

Now, I do think it’s important that Xiao Xingchen doesn’t say directly that it was only a finger. I think it would have been cruel of him to say that. But I also think that his upbringing and position in the world make him a bit… oblivious to the implications of Xue Yang’s story, and what he’s trying to communicate, and that leads to him saying some things that are more insensitive than he would have chosen to if he’d realized.

From a very early point, he knew that Xue Yang grew up without parents or money.

Unhurried, Xue Yang began, “Once upon a time, there was a child.”

“The child really liked eating sweet things. But because he had no parents or money, he could rarely eat them.”

And he was told how that child was exploited, and how hard he was beat up and used even before things reached the point where he lost a finger

[The huge, brawny man] took over the paper and looked at it, and he gave the child a slap so hard that his nose started bleeding. The man pulled the child’s hair and asked, ‘Who told you to take such a thing over?’”

[…]

“[seven-year-old Xue Yang] felt scared and pointed the direction. The man went to the liquor shop, carrying the child by pulling his hair.”

[…]

“The store was in a mess and the waiter was feeling quite cross. He slapped the child a few times, so hard that his ears were even buzzing, and chased him out the door. He crawled up and walked for a while.”

[…]

What do you think happened? Just a few more slaps and a few more kicks.”

(It’s interesting to me that he dodges even mentioning his hand being run over in this version of the story, but later goes into a lot of detail about his hand later with Xiao Xingchen, even though Xiao Xingchen has completely turned against him)

And, something that I hadn’t really noticed until I went to collect these quotes, is how Xiao Xingchen reacts to this story.

After Xiao XingChen tucked her, he walked a few steps, then asked, “What happened afterward?”

Xue Yang, “Guess. There was no afterward. You didn’t continue telling your story either, did you?”

Xiao XingChen, “No matter what happened afterward, since right now your life is fairly adequate, there’s no need for you to dwell too much on the past.”

That’s… a very high-minded approach to take, where I can see the good intentions, but I’m also kind of wincing at the accidental implications.

And then, to mix it up, let’s have some screencaps for the second half of the story, because these actors seriously knocked this scene out of the park

“The wheels of the cart milled over the child’s hand, one finger at a time. He was seven!”

And then another book quote, because it’s fascinating to me how directly he begs Xiao Xingchen to empathize with the child who was used so poorly and lost a finger in the process.

“Is it that, since the fingers weren’t yours, you guys were incapable of feeling the pain?! You guys didn’t know how horrifying screams sounded like out of your own mouths? Why didn’t you ask him why he decided to amuse himself with me without a single reason?!”

Only, right after he does this, Xiao Xingchen talks about how disproportionate Xue Yang’s revenge was. This really kills me, honestly, because this is the point where Xue Yang stops trying to appeal to him and explain himself, and takes a sharp turn towards losing control over his emotions instead.

Xiao XingChen spoke as though he couldn’t believe Xue Yang’s words, “Chang Ci’An broke one of your fingers in the past. If you sought revenge, you could’ve simply broken one of his fingers as well. If you really took the matter to heart, you could’ve broken two, or even all ten! Even if you had cut off an entire arm of his, things wouldn’t have been like this. Why did you have to kill his entire clan? Don’t tell me that a single finger of yours was equal to more than fifty human lives!”

I always just accepted that this was enough to hurt Xue Yang that much. But also… Xiao Xingchen knows that Xue Yang was a poor, parentless child, and he’s heard about how this child was callously exploited and mistreated by three separate adults. And there’s a couple class-related details in here that I want to touch on.

One, Xue Yang was again, a poor, parentless child, and I imagine he was living on the streets in a situation like that. Chang Ci’an broke (amputated) one of his fingers. And ran over the whole rest of his hand, which I have to imagine did other significant damage. Okay, so he wrecked this seven-year-old child’s hand. Now…. how much did this child have? What did he have besides his body? Did he even have a home to retreat to and recover? Because I have to imagine he didn’t. He didn’t have money for medical treatment, it’s not even clear if he knew anyone he could go to for basic medical help. Let’s not even talk about setting the bones in a shattered hand, did he even have access to anything to prevent infection? If he had any means of making a living (at age, again, seven), it would almost have had to be either begging or stealing. Having one ruined hand would have done awful things to this parentless child’s ability to survive. He made it through, clearly, but god. 

And Xiao Xingchen isn’t approaching this from a position like most of our main characters, who grew up wealthy and privileged. He’s not approaching this in a way like how Jiang Cheng scolded Wei Wuxian for breaking his arm, because he had to get it all plastered up and spend weeks recovering, and that was super inconvenient. Xiao Xingchen was never wealthy, and he grew up as a feral mountain child with Baoshan Sanren. But that means that he wasn’t subject to the same social forces as a city child like Xue Yang. Even if he was injured as a child, even if he was badly injured, it wasn’t probably an act of cruelty or callousness on the part of an adult. And if he was injured, he might not have had access to formally trained doctors, but he had a teacher who was highly trained spiritually, and who would at least care for him.

In a way, I think that makes it all hurt… more for Xue Yang. Because Xiao Xingchen isn’t gentry, he never was affiliated with the great cultivation sects, and he and Xue Yang and A-Qing have been living together in a city in fairly poor circumstances for three years now. But Xiao Xingchen is an adult, and one who’s used to making his own way in the world. He has no personal understanding of what it’s like to be a powerless child in similar circumstances, without anyone. And in this moment, he’s not able to understand how awful and how serious this was for a child like Xue Yang to experience.

Like, compare and contrast. When the Wens are starting to move against Lotus Pier, there’s half a moment where Wei Wuxian makes his peace with losing a hand. He’s like ‘yeah, that sucks, but i’ll deal. i’ll just learn to fight with my other hand, whatever!’ But just imagine how serious that would have been before Jiang Fengmian found him. Without money, without a home, without anyone to care for you, without access to any real medical care, how dire an injury would that have been? Xue Yang might not have lost his hand altogether, but the cart ran over his whole hand, and hands are just full o’ bones. The consequences of that injury were significant. 

And Xiao Xingchen’s initial reaction is ‘okay, so this wealthy cultivator broke your finger. why didn’t you just break his finger?’ and then he manages to escalate his way up to ‘idk, you could have even cut off his arm???’

In retrospect, it’s completely unsurprising to me that this is the moment where Xue Yang totally shuts down and starts asking why Xiao Xingchen even got involved, if he wasn’t capable of understanding.

“You shouldn’t have meddled in other people’s business. Right or wrong, kindness or hatred are not clearly distinguished, so how could an outsider possibly understand?”

“Your martial mentor, Baoshan Sanren, was indeed insightful. Why didn’t you listen to her and obediently cultivate in the mountain? If you couldn’t understand the human affairs and this world, then you shouldn’t have come!”

It makes me wonder what would have happened, if Xue Yang had leaned harder into what kind of suffering and hardship an injury like that meant for a street child, but considering how reluctant he was to share in the first place, I’m not exactly surprised he didn’t go there.

Incidentally, it’s interesting to me that when Xiao Xingchen calls Xue Yang ‘disgusting’, that’s when Xue Yang pivots into really trying to hurt him. I think it would hurt, coming from Xiao Xingchen, no matter what, but I have to wonder if he takes it extra hard in light of the way he’s just been trying to explain his history as a mistreated street child.

I’d been idly wondering if I was reading too far into this dynamic (not that that was going to stop me, but still, wondering :P), but this last addition to the conversation really caught my attention

“The people I hate the most are ones like you who say they’re righteous, who think they’re virtuous. Stupid, naive, dumb idiots like you who think the world’s better just because you did something good!”

And then I was like no, I’ve been right this whole time, haha :V

Xue Yang’s anger and hurt sense on a purely personal level, especially with the extra pain of trying to explain himself, for once, and Xiao Xingchen missing the point. But the extra frustration on behalf of his younger self makes so much additional sense. 

Xue Yang likes Xiao Xingchen, he likes living with Xiao Xingchen, or he wouldn’t still be there three years after a chance encounter. It would be a whole other meta to source this claim, but it very much feels like there are things he admires about Xiao Xingchen, even if it’s kind of a condescending, indulgent fondness for his foolish, naive innocence instead of a straightforward admiration. Until it tips over here, and becomes personal. 

And I think there were a lot of ways where he was prepared to disagree with Xiao Xingchen on a deep, fundamental level. They have very different values. But I don’t think he was prepared for Xiao Xingchen to be so oblivious to the class-based aspect of Xue Yang’s history. I don’t think Xiao Xingchen intended to be cruel, and I also think he had other significant things on his mind, but the seriousness of this incident doesn’t seem to occur to him. For someone with money, for someone with a skilled martial family, for even someone with a family, period, this would have been a traumatic experience, but one that could be dealt with. But then Xiao Xingchen equates the finger of this wealthy, purposefully cruel cultivator to the finger of a poor, parentless street child, and Xue Yang begins to lose control.

I already didn’t blame him for how upset he gets in this conversation, but now, even more than before, I find his reaction incredibly understandable. I mean, yes, their whole relationship is built on a foundation of sand, but he thought that he and Xiao Xingchen… supported each other, at least. They mattered to each other. And when Xiao Xingchen rejects him in the present, well, sure, that was going to happen if anyone was stupid enough to tell Xiao Xingchen the truth, that was understandable. But when Xiao Xingchen casually brushes aside the suffering of little innocent seven-year-old Xue Yang, that hurts Xue Yang more than he could have ever anticipated. 

[rainpuddle13]

35 Ross and Demelza

#35 - An awkward kiss given after a first date

This was a lot of fun to write. Thanks, anonymous!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was like a knife to his gut to sit there and listen to Demelza recount her previous evening out with an old chum of their friend Caroline. The bloke fancied himself some sort of artist and poet apparently.  She showed him a sketch this Hugh Armitage had supposedly done of her which Ross found a bit off-putting. She had seemed inordinately pleased though to his dismay. Ross thought it had barely captured the unique beauty that made Demelza so earthy and desirable.

“Dandy more like,” Ross muttered under his breath before stuffing chips in his mouth.

“He breeds racing  horses,” she continued on, seemingly oblivious to his disparaging words.  “He promised to take me to Ascot in June.”

Ross wiped his hands on his napkin before speaking.  It was like she was trying to pour salt on his wound. “So you’ll see him again?”

“I think so. He is nice,” Demelza flicked her blue eyes up to meet his, arching one delicate brow, almost as if daring him to say something, “and he is handsome.”

Oh, Ross knew the type alright, Armitage was one of those old money aristocracy types who have never worked a day in their life, using his family connections and money to float through life without the burden of actual responsibility. His occupation was probably more along the lines of being elegantly wasted all of the time.

He wanted to damn Caroline all to hell for interfering, but ultimately he knew it was his own fault that he found himself in this position with Demelza. Ross had fancied her from almost the first moment they met nearly five years ago. He’d been entangled at the time with Elisabeth Chyoweth so he was unable to act upon the spark that was obvious between them. The timing never seemed right after that, and was not helped by his lengthy deployments, so he’d settled to just secretly worship her from afar.

“Hmm,” Ross mumbled, very unimpressed. “Rich too.”  There was no way that he could possibly compete with the ponce on that front.  While his salary was adequate compared to what it was when he had first enlisted, he wasn’t trying to support a wife and possibly a family with it either. He’d always thought Demelza had deserved much better than anything he could have to offer.

It was her turn to huff coupled with a dark glare. “You know I don’t care about that.”

He did know what she said about matters of money, but there was this little voice inside his head that told him she deserved the whole world.  “I know what you said,” he reminded her.

This long awaited lunch out with Demelza all to himself was not going according to plan. He hadn’t been able to see much of her while he’d been back in Cornwall.  Her catering business had exploded during his last deployment after she had been featured in a local magazine for her farm to table approach to cooking.  Ross was happy for her to be sure, but it really cut into the time he could spend with her.

She broke the silence after a couple of minutes.  “Have you gotten your orders yet?”

“Yes,” Ross answered, glad for the change of subject before he could say something to really tick her off, “I’m leaving for training in Canada at the end of the month.”

She reached across the table to place her warm hand over his, clear relief was etched on her lovely face.  “I’m glad it’s not Iraq again.”

“Me too. It’s miserable no matter the time of year.”

“I’m just glad you won’t be in a war zone,” she admitted softly.

“Just from the local wildlife” he assured her. “I understand moose are a particular danger.”

“At least it’s not IEDs or bullets.” 

“Agreed.” He reached up to touch the scar that ran from his eye down his cheek almost to his jaw on the left side of his face.  It was only thanks to Dwight’s skills he hadn’t fared any worse than he did. Demelza had visited him several times when he was home convalescing and did her damnest to talk him out of reenlisting.

“I guess I won’t have to send you care packages this time since you’ll be near civilization,” she said while taking her hand back and becoming very interested in her nearly empty plate. She’d had the ploughman’s lunch.

“I wouldn’t say no to some of your chocolate biccies.”

She looked up again and laughed, a warm throaty sound that made him feel all quivery inside. “I’m sure you wouldn’t!”

“I’ll need a break from poutine and maple candies.”

She made an adorable scrunchy face. “I’m not sure I even want to know what poutine is!”

“I understand it’s chips and cheese covered in gravy.”

“Sounds very healthy.” She jumped a bit when her phone buzzed and she picked it up off the table, frowning. “I need to go. I’ve got a cocktail party tonight at Tehidy.”

Disappointment didn’t begin to cover how he felt about their time together being cut short because of her work commitments, but he also more than understood. His chosen line of work was keeping him from being with the woman he was pretty sure he could spend the rest of his life with. It would be unfair to her with him being deployed to dangerous parts of the world for long stretches of time. He couldn’t even bring himself to imagine what it would do to her if the worst happened.

“Let me settle the cheque and I’ll walk you out,” Ross said, getting up to retrieve their jackets. 

Demelza was waiting out front of the Red Lion in the bright afternoon sunlight for him. The air was crisp for early spring and the sky a cloudless deep blue.  She took his proffered elbow when he joined her and they walked the few streets over to her storefront mostly in silence.  It always amazed him how at ease felt being with her.

“I should go in,” she said once they’d reached the cheerfully painted building.

He nodded.  “Yes, Jinny might be burning the canapes.”

“Bite your tongue,” she grouse and playfully shoved him.

“You know it’s true,” he laughed. The girl’s misadventures in the kitchen were near legendary in their circle of friends and it was a true miracle she’d not burnt the building down.

Demelza sighed and looked up at him, like she was waiting for him to do something. He shifted his weight off his bad ankle, torn between wanting to ravish her senseless on the spot and leaving so he could go be miserable that he hadn’t acted on his impulse.  

Then it all happened so suddenly after staring at one another in awkward silence for a few heartbeats. He mistook Demelza leaning up to hug him while biting her bottom lip as something more than it was meant to be, engulfing her in his arms and without thinking mashing his mouth to hers,  somehow painfully clinking their teeth in his haste.  He’d almost managed to get more of her cheek than her lips while nearly crushing her nose.  As far as kisses went, his first and only kiss with Demelza could be deemed a spectacular failure.

Demelza growled at him after he finally released her and balled up her fist before proceeding to sucker punch him in the stomach as hard as she could. He bent over double from the unexpected blow while she hopped about shaking her hand and cursing. 

“What was that for?” he asked after catching his breath, but he was leant over with his hands on his knees still. Thankfully his fish and chips lunch seemed to be staying put.

“For making me wait four years, seven months, and eleven days for you to kiss me, you wanker,” she hissed.

He stood up straight, blinking at her first in confusion then in wonderment as the gravity of her words sank in. “You kept count?”

“Of course I did,” she said, exasperated, balling up her fist again, this time punching his shoulder.

“Oi!” he yelped.

“That’s for making me suffer through a date with Hugh Armitage to make you jealous.”

“At least it was just a first date,” he chirped, a wide grin splitting his face as his heart pounded in his chest.

“Only date,” she promised, reaching to grab a hold of the lapels of his jacket. “Now shut up and kiss me properly!”

[j-casper]

Emily Prentiss x Alex Blake x Jennifer Jareau

alternate au: emily comes from Interpol to help the BAU with another case, and, along the way, the team learn something new about Emily and Emily learns something new about two of the members

note: for this, we shall pretend that JJ and Will + Alex and James were never a couple

many thanks to @criminalrainyxx for the help :D

| | |

“Statistically, only seven out of every 100 students get into Yale. That’s roughly less than 6.5% of applicants every year.” Spencer’s voice droned on, excitedly informing the team about Ivy League schools due to the victims all having attended one.

“I attended Yale,” Emily mentioned offhandly to them as she read the file carefully, not even realizing what she said until silence overtook the room and she froze, looking up to see everyone staring at her, different expressions of shock on their faces.

Morgan blinked, “you attended Yale?”

“For what degree?” Spencer blurted out, wide eyed.

Emily faltered, eyes shifting from each of her team members before finally sighing as she realized that there was no taking back what she said and they wouldn’t drop it anytime soon.

She cleared her throat, smiling nervously, “I went there for my doctorate in Criminal Psychology.”

“Prentiss, you have a doctorate?” Rossi’s eyebrow raised, impressed and Emily nodded shyly, ducking her head to avoid their gazes.

“Yeah, it was after I got my bachelor’s and master’s in Criminal Justice at Chesapeake Bay University.”

“Why don’t you make us call you doctor, like pretty boy over here?” Morgan asked confused, slight hurt on his face showing from not knowing this about his (ex)partner.

Emily sighed softly, “because, I don’t want my education to speak for my worth. I’m just Emily Prentiss guys and a degree won’t change that.” She ran her fingers through her hair frustratingly.

“Still,” Blake interrupted, piercing dark eyes meeting Emily’s own and causing the younger woman to shift in her seat, “it’s something to be proud about.”

Her voice was soft, careful, as if Emily was a timid deer that would take off at any moment at even the slightest moment, and with the way Emily had been acting around the older woman and JJ, it wasn’t far from the truth.

Emily had been devestated when visiting from London and discovering that JJ had entered a relationship with the professor / new team member on the BAU.

That was until Emily met Alex Blake and realized she was utterly screwed when she found herself falling for the older woman’s charming wit and spark of sass.

She fell for a couple—two people unattainable and together with each other.

Needless to say, Emily grew even more devestated and resolved herself to never confess her feelings.

In her mind, she didn’t stand a chance with the two people that clearly were so into each other that they didn’t see anyone else.

So, she resigned herself to acting much like the timid deer Alex was speaking to her like: shy and withdrawn around the couple, and running off at the first instance she’s able to get away once they try engaging her in conversation together.

“I guess,” Emily murmured, eyes meeting the table as she shrugged. Then, she shook her head and looked up before clearing her throat, “we should worry about our unsub though.”

The BAU team was smart enough to take the hint and left her alone, them quickly falling into discussing the case and victims.

Emily never did notice the two sets of eyes watching her as she fidgeted with her pen.

Nor did Emily notice the soft and awe-filled look in said eyes.

No—

Like always, Emily Prentiss remained oblivious.

...

“So a doctorate, huh?” JJ said out of nowhere, breaking Emily’s concentration on the book in front of her, “fancy.”

Emily looked up from her book, watching as JJ and Alex took a seat across from her on the plane.

She smiled nervously, “I mean, yeah.”

“Much have been a lot of work, Dr. Prentiss,” Alex comments, small smile on her face as she teased.

Emily ducked her head, feeling her face briefly heat up. She tried willing her blush to go away, eyes carefully avoiding the other women’s eyes when she finally looked up.

“A little bit,” Emily admitted at last, remembering the long nights in the library to study and the times that she almost quit and gave up from the pressure.

“My mother wasn’t very happy when I admitted to wanting to go into Criminal Justice, much less a doctorate in Criminal Psychology,” Emily muses, shrugging her shoulders casually as if her mother’s opinion didn’t matter. A small smile curled on her face though as she answered a few seconds later, voice full of fondness, “my old nanny, Carla, was so proud though. She called practically all of her family to announce that I was getting a doctorate.” She recalled the cake that Carla made for her in congratulations and the celebration dinner with Carla’s family she attended, the playful jokes exchanged in between everyone and the teasing she was on the end of about whether or not she finally had a girlfriend. She chuckled quietly at the thought and shook her head, looking up as her smile widened.

“She sounds amazing,” JJ told her softly, smiling back.

Emily gently set aside her book, “yeah, she is. I still attend most Christmas dinners with her and her family actually, and I send a bunch of letters and post cards.”

“She raised you,” Alex guessed, eyebrow arching.

Emily nodded, “more so then my actual parents. Mother was too busy being a diplomat and Father was...” She trailed off, eyebrows furrowing before eventually just shaking her head in an attempt to shake away the thoughts of her father. She didn’t comment or think further on him, instead quickly looking over to the case file beside her.

“So, what do you think about our unsub?” She asked, trying to change the subject and eventually relaxing when Alex and JJ didn’t question her further.

“Well, he seems to—”

...

“—and this is Agent Prentiss from Interpol, who has agreed to help us out for the case.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Emily responded, shaking the lead detective’s hand firmly. The man smiled.

“Pleasure is all mine, Agent.”

He turned towards the others, “I really hope you can catch the son of a bitch that did this.”

Hotch nodded, “well, that’s why we’re here. Tell us what you know.”

...

“So, Interpol is in London, right?” The lead detective asked curiously.

Emily kept flipping through the file as she answered offhandly, “yeah.”

“Must be interesting. Do you enjoy it?”

Emily paused, thinking carefully, “it’s not too bad.”

He smiled, “I bet.”

Emily hummed, eyes scanning the file.

“Is there much dating in London?” He asked and Emily paused, feeling his eyes on her.

“Not much. I don’t really date,” she admitted, looking up.

“A shame, but maybe I can take you out sometime?” He flashed her a crooked grin and Emily shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Umm—”

“Emily, there you are,” JJ interrupted, walking in with Alex trailing behind her, “we need your help.”

Emily barely managed to hold in her grateful sigh, and quickly gathered up the files in front of her, not noticing Alex’s silent stare towards the detective causing him to look away quickly.

“So, what do you guys need?” Emily asked as soon as the door behind her was shut, files piled in her hand.

“You looked like you could use saving,” Alex told her bluntly, amusement written across her face.

Emily flushed and quietly grumbled, “I would say.”

“So, you don’t really date?” JJ asked curiously and Emily stiffened.

They must have heard her exchange with the detective.

“Not really,” Emily admitted before pausing and deciding to be truthful, “I try but then it usually goes wrong.”

She recalls the multiple dates in the past with several women where she tried to make it work but something always went wrong: they cheated on her, they couldn’t deal with her job’s long hours, or even that they just couldn’t work out.

It probably didn’t help that Emily had hopelessly been in love with JJ for years, and now Alex.

“That’s a shame. I’m sure anyone would be lucky to have you,” Alex commented and Emily flushed at JJ’s nod of agreement.

“Yeah, I guess,” she admits at last quietly and thoughtfully, clutching the files in her hands closer to her body.

...

Morgan’s eyes silently met Emily’s own and she nodded, gun ready as they split ways.

Carefully she walked around the downstairs part of the house, flashlight assisting her vision.

She entered each room after the next until arriving in front of the shut bedroom door and paused, hand quietly turning the knob and pushing the door open.

“Chris Anderson?” She spoke, gun aimed towards the back of the figure facing the bedroom window as she entered, “turn around, slowly.”

The figure spun around.

Bang.

Emily stumbled back, a searing pain shooting through her leg as she crumbled to the ground.

She had never even seen the bullet coming.

...

Beep...Beep...Beep...

Emily groaned quietly, eyes fluttering open and immediately squinting at the bright white ceiling of her hospital room. She winced, arm coming up to cover her eyes.

“Emily?” A soft, familiar voice filled her eyes and her head lolled to the side, blinking.

Her voice came out, soft and croaky, “J-Jayje? A-Alex?” Her throat was dry, scratchy, and she barely resisted the urge to wince as sat up in the hospital bed.

In the next instance, Alex held out a cup of water, guiding the straw towards Emily to allow her to drink from it. She took a few sips, sighing in relief at the cool sensation going through her sore throat.

“What happened?” She asked finally, looking up from the drink.

“Unsub shot you in the leg. By the time the paramedics arrived, you had lost a lot of blood,” JJ told her quietly.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” JJ spoke, eyes narrowing, voice rising slightly in pitch, “you get shot and all you have to say is oh?” Her voice sounded distraught and angry, and Emily barely resisted the urge to flinch.

Alex’s hand gently laid itself on JJ’s shoulder and the blonde visibly relaxed, and Emily shifted then in the bed nervously. Her shoulders fell at the look the two women exchanged, full of love for the other.

It was bad enough that she had been shot, but now she had to watch the two people she had feelings for practically, and unknowingly, flaunt their relationship in front of her.

“—Emily?” Alex’s voice broke her out of her thoughts and she shook her head, not meeting either of their eyes.

“I’m fine,” she muttered half-heartedly.

Yet, she was anything but.

...

She’s been ignoring the team.

It’s three days after the case ended and Emily had been shot in the leg, that Emily decides to go back to London despite having a few weeks off due to her injury.

Slowly, she packed everything away into her suitcase on her hotel bed before carefully zipping it up. She stepped back and sighed softly, taking a quick glance at her watch.

“Two hours. I have time,” she mumbled to herself, hand reaching towards the remote and flipping through the channels before stopping on the first thing that remotely interested her.

For an hour, she got lost in the world of Tom and Jerry, laughing softly everytime Tom was thwarted from catching Jerry.

A knock on her hotel door bought her out of her show however, eyebrows furrowing as she stood up and walked to the door. She leaned in, cautiously looking through the peep hole and sighing softly at the image of the people on the other side.

She stepped back, turning the knob.

“Hi,” she gave a timid smile and JJ sighed.

“Hi. Can we come in?” JJ asked her softly and Emily hesitated before finally nodding, opening the door and allowing them to enter.

“Is everything okay? Is there a new case or...” she trailed off, cocern sprawled across her face at the indecipherable look written across their faces.

“You’ve been ignoring us,” Alex interjected, eyebrow arched and Emily barely resisted the urge to flinch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t been—”

“Emily,” JJ interrupted, eyes cutting to hers and Emily immediately looked away, quieting.

“And you’re about to leave without saying goodbye too,” Alex commented, eyes taking in the packed suitcase on Emily’s bed.

Emily shrugged, “missing my apartment.”

JJ scoffed, “more like ignoring us and running away like always.”

Emily flinched, throat tightening as she tried to answer.

JJ’s eyes shun with anger and sadness as she met Emily’s own, “why?” She mumbled softly, voice almost begging for an answer.

Emily shook her head. “I can’t,” she said, half-heartedly.

“Can’t,” Alex asked, “or won’t?”

Emily winced.

“Come on, Em, this isn’t like you,” JJ whispered, “what’s going on?”

Alex’s and JJ’s eyes carefully bored into Emily’s own and Emily couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I—I love you guys, okay, and I can’t,” she choked out finally, the truth spilling out as tears gathered in her eyes, “I can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt seeing you guys together because I know I would never have a chance with either of you, much less both of you. I thought that seeing others would help but it doesn’t and I don’t want to ruin my friendship with either of you. I have to leave.” Her voice caught at the end as a choked sob burst out of her throat and she blinked rapidly, willing the tears to go away as she tries desperately to compose herself.

“Emily,” JJ’s soft voice interjected and Emily shook her head rapidly, backing away when both women stepped foward to approach her.

“No,” Emily stated, eyes lowering to stare at the floor so she can’t see their reactions, “you should both leave.”

“For a profiler, you sure are oblivious,” Alex stated and Emily blinked, shock and confusion filling her as she titled her head up slightly, still not meeting their eyes but listening closely.

A hand met her chin, tilting her head up. Her wide eyes met Alex’s and she blinked in confusion and her eyebrows furrowed, “What—”

Before she could finish, warm and soft lips met her own and before she could think further, her eyes fluttered shut, gently leaning her body into Alex’s as she returned the kiss.

Careful hands settled on her waist from behind and Emily squeaked softly in Alex’s mouth as JJ pressed up against her behind, before the blonde’s soft humming lulled her to slowly relax.

She breathed heavily when the kiss ended, chest heaving and hair mussed as she tried catching her breath. Her mind racing as she tried registered what had just happened.

She licked her lips, “W-what was that?” Her voice came out soft and timid. JJ’s soft laugh sounded in her ear.

“It means, we like you too, Em,” JJ told her warmly into her ear and Emily’s eyes widened.

“Really?” She squeaked, and Alex hummed.

“Like I said, for a profiler, you are very oblivious, sweetheart.” Alex’s fingers carefully tucked a strand of hair behind Emily’s ear and the younger brunette melted.

“Oh,” she breathed out softly.

“Yeah, idiot,” JJ teased, before her voice lowered, full of warmth, “now, it isn’t fair that Alex got a kiss and I didn’t.” Even without looking at her, Emily could tell the blonde was playfully pouting and she laughed.

She turned around in their arms to face the blonde and grinned, hands coming up to loop around the back of JJ’s neck.

She leaned in. “Now, we can’t have that, can we?” she whispered fondly and amused before closing her eyes, lips meeting the blonde’s at last.

[boxofbadaddiction]

They'll Hold Him Down

Draco Malfoy

Redemption Arc

Random Idea/Imagine/IDK

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse.

Arthur and Molly Weasley were very perceptive people. Not a lot goes unnoticed by the pair - how can it when you're raising such children as Fred and George? So, unsurprisingly, it wouldn't take long for them to notice the subtle notes of mistreatment that Draco were being subjected to.

They know it's not their place to question the parenting tactics of other adults but there's a line which you don't cross when it comes to raising a child. The line between a firm guiding hand and abuse. One which they were sure had been crossed long ago by Lucius and Narsissa Malfoy.

There's little they can do to help in such a case, sadly. But not nothing.

It were something that the two Redhaired parents took as an all-hands-on-deck situation. Everyone were to help where they could; showing him the kindness he weren't receiving at home.

It starts off smally; passing comments and kind or thoughtful guestures from the family to Draco. Ones which are always met with digust and confusion by said boy. The Weasleys are "less than them" after all.

Arthur would speak to him in passing at work when Lucius had dragged his son along before he started school or on their Summer Holidays. Giving mere offhand reassurance, whispered to him when his Father wasn't near.

Draco never failed to hear the light-hearted comments. Words which unexpectedly weighed so heavily on such young shoulders. Statements as simple as "You're a good kid." and "You know what's right." would one day come to mean more to him than his young mind could fathom.

It were a kind of conditioning he never realised he were being subjected to. But not in a bad way, the Weasleys became that little voice in his head that reminded him of right and wrong. Like a conscience - one like which he'd never had growing up in the Malfoy house. He'd been taught to obey. Follow orders. Do as they do. Anything else was wrong and unacceptable. Worthy of dishonour. And honour was a very important trait in the noble and proud house of Malfoy.

Molly were adamant with her children about being kind to Draco no matter his actions. To never retaliate and show kindness when they can. Which of course is met with their own level of digust and confusion - and a little anger, but they listen. They always do. The note of desperation and seriousness in their parents voices is enough for them not to question the matter further - in front of their parents anyway, but many nights you could find the Weasley children along with Harry and Hermione huddled together wracking their brains for some explanation why they had to take the high road with someone as vile and cruel as Draco Malfoy.

In their curiosity to understand why it were so imperative they be kind to the greasy haired blonde boy, the Weasleys children began to take more notice of him. Watching him around school. Paying close attention to the things he says and the company he keeps. The relationships he holds and how he interacts with certain individuals. It didn't take long before everything clicked and they realised why this was needed of them.

They understood and so they never questioned it again.

Over time it becomes second nature to them. Every nasty comment rolls off their shoulders like it were never there in the first place.

Seeing as how his actions were having no effect causes Malfoy to reconsider some of his actions - why was he so determined to make them hurt? They'd never actually done anything to him. Not to mention, he hadn't failed to notice the way they'd begun to act so nicely towards him. Not out of their way nice but the little things slowly became evident over the years.

The trio would offer a hand when he were struggling in a class - though not always had it been accepted so warmly. Usually plenty curses and hateful words leaving his mouth; reacting the way he'd been taught to when someone stepped out of place.

The Twins had probably the largest effect on him. They'd shut people down for bullying/attacking him for being well... him with a simple yet menacing "lay off", daggers held in their words and behind their eyes. It were nearly...brotherly in a way which made Draco feel safe and protected even if only a little. A guesture he quietly appreciated - even if from a Weasley.

It weren't until those such instances he'd fully come to realise the level of power Weasleys actually held in this school. People respected them and listened when they spoke, aside from the obvious bigoted Slytherins such as He, Crabbe and Goyle who were subjected to their families views and brainwashing, and they'd managed it all without any anger, malice or unnecessary demonstrations of power. They were quietly powerful; kind, humble and warm - but not to be trifled with, and people knew that.

The effect they began to have on him caused a pain in his mind. Like an itch he couldn't scratch. Why were they looking out for him?

In reality it were more than that which had Draco so perplexed. They were changing him - a fact he refused to acknowledge or admit to of course.

He'd tried fighting the way his mind began to second guess his words and actions. To try and 'act like a Malfoy' but there were no denying how he became more accepting of them. But why? Why did he feel so...sympathetic? Or softened toward them? They. Were. Lesser.

Dirt.

Not worthy of pureblood.

Traitors.

Soon enough his own incessant bullying of their family and the hateful remarks to other students stopped. He never spoke ill of them anymore - not that he ever went out if his way to defend them or be kind in return but it were a quiet guesture which spoke unknown volumes.

Not only that but he'd become kinder to other students as well. Muggleborns in particular.

He no longer hung around prejudiced and toxic Slytherins like he always had, when he could help it - choosing rather to surround himself with positive and kind individuals of varying Houses and Bloodstatus.

He was truly growing. In so many ways he'd matured from that bratty rude child everyone despised so much.

He even seemed happier. More at ease within crowds of people. Okay with blending in and not making a spectacle of himself as a means to appear superior. He was content in just being rather than being seen. That alone seemed to take a load off his shoulders - no longer having to constantly peacock throughout any and all spaces. He could just relax and enjoy being young.

In his growth Draco had failed to notice how the Weasleys had noticed his new found hesitancy, how he would fall quiet as people dragged their name through mud rather than joking along with them, and the small acts of kindness he offered others. They saw him changing. It weren't a lot but it were something, at least, that made them feel, through all their suffering of obscenities and unnecessary abuse, that it'd been worth it. Even if only a little bit.

Draco'd be lying if he didn't say he'd toyed with the idea this were some prank or ruse to corrupt or embarrass him. To lull him into a false sense of security to gain information on his family to later use against them, a reason which subsequently kept him at a distance from the family. But Fred and George could never be that cruel, he knew that. And what was there to gain from such a long lasting game? And how could they ever have conned their parents into the charade? The simple answer; they couldn't. Because it were genuine. A genuine kindness that, not so deep down, he knew he were undeserving of.

Of course he never dared tell Lucius or Narsissa of the conflicting thoughts in his head; of the niceties he received as he secretly found comfort in their reassurances and would often hold onto them during especially dark days. Kept to himself initially as he hadn't found their behaviour particularly note worthy but now all out of fear of as to how his parents would react.

Not just what they may do or say to him, finding that he'd grown tolerant of the Weasleys but also what they may say or do to them.

Knowing Lucius he'd storm Arthur at work or the family at their home and give them a mouthful about 'knowing their place' and staying away from his son.

The last thing Draco wanted was them being assaulted by his father or worse and cause them to once again look at him with the contempt they once had. So in a complete uncharacteristically Draco way; His Father wouldn't be hearing about this.

Lucky for him Lucius remained oblivious to his new found silence and kind ways. The way his Son no longer laughed or sneered along side his father at the insults he'd bark about Bloodtraitor families and Muggles/Muggleborns.

Running into the Weasleys at the world cup he'd stood solemnly behind his father avoiding any eye contact.

When Umbridge rolled around, though he'd never admit to it, he had shielded them in ways. Saving them a fair share of punishment by pointing her wrath in an opposite direction. But why? He couldn't understand it.

Not until one fateful day the following year while Robe shopping when Narsissa and Draco bumped shoulders with Molly and Harry. Narsissa were relentless in her abuse towards Harry and the Weasleys mother. Draco remained silent. Avoiding their eye as he always had, though at one moment of accidental eye contact, Harry could have sworn he saw an apologetic smile shown on Dracos features. But he were looking away just as soon as it'd rose upon his face, like realisation had dawned, then appeared a terribly conflicted and almost painful expression to replace it.

As Narsissa made to leave Draco stepped slowly behind her with head bowed paying no mind to the pair as he made to exit the shop when he were suddenly halted by a hand bracing his arm; Molly. She stepped towards him slightly, whispering urgently "If you ever need saftey, talk to my children and come to us. we'll be there - we can help you."

His eyes met hers in shock, a little fear maybe, but there were no mistaking the confusion in his expression.

They were trying to help. Offer him protection. But how could they have known?

'This is wrong' he thought.

Draco pulled forcibly from her grip. A sharp glance thrown to Harry before storming from the shop.

Though he'd buried it the best he could there were no stopping Molly's words from ringing in his ears especially during what was to come; being branded with the Dark Mark and ordered to kill Dumbledore.

As time went by he couldnt help the guilt that weighed on his shoulders. He felt he had let them down. More than that really - he knew he had.

The World seemed to get darker. Colder. Smaller. Like it were closing him in until finally he broke.

He didn't know where else to turn so he went the only place he could think of - to Molly and Arthur Weasley.

He turned up on their doorstep late one night with tears in his eyes and panicked breath in his lungs.

It's Molly who answers the door, her and Arthur had been sitting at the dining room table as the kids were upstairs readying for bed. She didn't ask any questions, neither did Arthur, she simply wrapped him in a tight hug. Not the typical bone crushing Molly Weasley hug, there was a hesitancy behind it, but still tight enough to reassure him everything would be okay.

Draco froze at first unsure of how to respond before his arms wrapped tightly around the Woman who'd silently been looking out for him for all these years and finally let himself feel the hurt.

He had no memory of ever being hugged like this, as though by a Mother. The full weight of everything he had endured seemed to fall upon him as Mrs Weasley held him close to her.

She held him a little tighter while he cried - as if trying to squeeze the broken pieces of his soul back together, if even for a moment.

Draco loved his Mother, truly he did, but the embrace from Molly felt different. Warmer. More intimate than any moment had with Narsissa.

Yes, she loved her son dearly but Narsissa Malfoy were never an affectionate woman. Her proud and proper appearance which she worked so hard to maintain often cast a cold shadow - typical to that of a Malfoy, he hadn't realised just how much it had affected him until this moment.

When his breathing became a little less radical and the sobs started to quiet Arthur ushered the pair from the doorway.

Molly held a firm hand to his back as she directed him to the table and with a flick of her wand conjured the kettle to a boil.

He sat at the table drawing long slow breaths as they spoke and he explained why he arrived on their door unannounced at such a time.

The new voice in the house had carried upstairs luring the other occupants from their place.

Bill, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Harry and Hermione now all stood off from the kitchen gawking at the scene in front of them. A Malfoy at the Burrow. And crying for that matter.

They couldn't help the daggers pointed from behind their eyes, after all; they may have been kind to him and understood why they needed to be, but even in his growth they still didn't trust him, and to say they cared for him would be a stretch seeing the level of abuse they were forced to endure with no retaliation or even an apology for that matter. Really all it were from the children was pitty and the ability to put up with him. In time, however, they would grow to trust him and consider him a friend.

Molly prepared a room where he then stayed the night and through till the next.

When Lucius found out where he was he'd appeared ropeable. There were nothing anyone could do to calm him as his wrath met a peak which could have rivalled that of the Dark Lord. Not only had Draco abandoned his family in the dead of the night but he'd run directly into the arms of those who he despised most ardently.

He stormed the Burrow that night, Narsissa and Bellatrix in tow.

The residents within the Burrow had just finished dinner and were casually chatting, engaging in light shared laughter - even Draco wore a smile, never knowing that a meal between family could be so pleasant. As the unmistakable crack of apparation sounded from outside, all heads shifted to gaze out the kitchen window wondering who it could be. They'd all assumed a member of the Order - how wrong they were.

Lucius strode confidently toward the house before stopping short. He stood tall and proud in the path, rage evident through his posture alone.

Narsissa were beside him, but still a step behind - she seemed more secure in her emotions, still proud but calmer; though surely meant in good standing it gave one the impression of a predator lulling its prey into a false sense of security before striking.

Bellatrix meanwhile stood on his otherside comically striding and prancing about as she pleased taking great joy in what were about to unfold.

Some at the table turned their attention worriedly to Draco who swallowed thickly at his Families sudden presence. Others stared fixedly at the blonde man within the garden amazed they'd ever show their face here.

Molly took a hand to Dracos arm reassuringly as Arthur stood from the table and walked from the door, Molly would soon follow.

Tentatively Arthur spoke the angered man's name who merely sneered and shouted for his son to come to him.

Lucius refused to step a foot across their threshold, not that Molly or Arthur or any member of the family ever would have let him had he tried.

Draco stood now with his back pressed against the farthest wall of the Burrows kitchen panicking, watching as Fred, George and Bill left to be with their parents. Draco knew he'd have to face him sooner or later, he'd just hoped, or rather prayed, it'd be later.

Harry and Ron were the next to join the scene unfolding in the front yard as Hermione sheilded Ginny in the kitchen.

When Draco finally and cautiously stepped out to face his Father everyone had their wands drawn in statement.

Molly and Arthur came to stand in front of him with their free hands splayed across infront of him; as if in a car seconds before it's crash and they were bracing for the impact.

Lucius threw demands at his son in the same threatening tone he'd learned long ago to obey.

"You don't have to do what he says he can't hurt you. You are not like him" Arthur says over his shoulder. Draco found himself involuntarily taking small steps back from his Father and towards the house. When Lucius drew his wand further the Weasleys; Bill, Fred, George, Harry and Ron stood defensively before him with their wands drawn high further shielding Draco from his view.

Dracos breath were rapid as he watched on, wand gripped in his hand but no real idea what he'd do were he to react. Who'd he fire against. His instincts were telling him one thing while his heart and mind screamed for another.

"He is my Son" Lucius growled.

"Who we've been trying to protecting from you." Snapped Fred "and that's not the way families are meant to be. They shouldn't need to be protected from." Followed George, pulling Dracos eyes to the pair, who straightened themselves to stand taller at the words, and along with them pulled his knowing of what were right.

Lucius continues to threaten the family, over the sound of Bellatrix's cackling laughter, until a voice carries over the scene. Narsissa speaking two simple words in a soft tone; "Draco. Come".

Everyone's attention is on the pair as they watch Draco take hesitant steps past the Weasleys, who gawk at him, his head is bowed ashamedly. But he stops short.

Casting his eyes up to unfortunately meet his Fathers, whose face holds a vastly different expression to his Mothers soft and confident one. One of poorly veiled anger and disgust. That one he knows all too well.

Draco swallows thickly head turning to gaze at the Redheaded family in his peripheral - a decision being made.

He straightens himself, uttering a single word; "Leave."

The man in front of him scoffs before warning him. He gives a final opportunity to change his mind but his loyalty doesn't falter.

What happens next is faster than lightning. Lucius flicks his wand to curse his Son but Dracos disarmed it before he can finish the action. Three jets of red light fly from behind the boy, two knock Lucius square in the chest as another finds Bellatrix: Fred, George and Harry had sent stunning spells at those whom were armed.

Lucius struggled to stand but managed with an effort from his wife, a final threatening glare and warning yelled to the boy; "You choose them. Then you will die like them as well - painful and bloody." he disowns his Son and then leaves in a swirl of black smoke with his wife, whose face shows nothing but shock and fallen tears, close behind.

Bellatrix remains for a moment glaring at the boy who is now surrounded by people staring just as menacingly back at her. She leaves by apparation.

After that night, everything had changed.

When the Battle finally came Dracos allegiance had been made clear.

There were only one side he'd cared about. One side he'd fought with. One family he fought for. And it were not the dishonourable and ashamed house of Malfoy.

-bonus-

On the night Lucius and the others arrived at the Burrow, Molly had been the first to approach Draco. He wasn't crying or angry but confused. Confused at the numbness that over took him. At the sense of relief that flooded his body as he watched his Father disappear into the night.

Molly had spoken assuredly to him that everything would be okay and that they would care for him.

Returning to the home the family retired to the lounge room, by the fire with mugs of tea or hot chocolate or glasses of their preferred beverage between their palms, it were relatively quiet amongst the group in the wake of all that had occurred. Until George spoke.

"So, Mum has officially adopted you." Various agreeable murmers and head nods filled the room, "guess that leaves only one thing left to do..." "what?" Draco asks confused and a little concernedly.

"Fix that mop of hair of yours" Fred piped. "I'll get the red hair dye." He calmly set his glass down standing from his place as Dracos eyes go wide and he frantically scanned the room.

"I'll hold him down!" Ginny, Ron and Harry jumped up at once.

It were all good fun until Molly put an end to it sending a rolled up newspaper round the room with a flick of her wand speaking "You'll. Do. No. Such. Thing!"

"Blimey Woman, relax. It was just a joke!" George defended. "Not really" Fred whispers to Draco throwing a wink his way as he polishes off the last of his Whiskey.

[honeytama]

Emergency Contact

Spinner (Shuichi Iguchi) X Fem!Reader

A/N: This was so fun to write! I’m loving the idea of phone sex right now, but also the idea of subby Spinner. So why not both? Here’s another fic about my favorite! Tagged: @knifeewifee​

Summary: Spinner phone calls his sweet girlfriend late one night to update her on his trip. The next morning, he gets a surprise visit.

Warnings: Smut (18+), established romantic relationship and pet names, cussing, praise kink, JOI (jerk off instructions), masturbation, oral (giving), riding

Word Count: 4.3k

Spinner lays against a plush comforter on the bed of a private hotel room with a throw blanket wrapped around his sore legs soothing him to relax after a long day of fighting. Although, the bed still feels less warm without his most favorite person in the world there with him. His favorite person even compared to the man that inspired him to fight for a greater cause; the entire reason he was away from you right now.

He sticks his neck out every day for his comrades and the people around him so that they’ll eventually have a life better than the one dealt to them. And you’re on his mind the entire way through. He slings his arm over his face, resisting the urge to call you and risk distracting him from the League’s current mission.

Spinner lays thinking about how your body would feel against him, how you would probably be eating room service dessert with him right now, and then seducing him with whipped cream upon your lips enough to get him fucking your supple body into the memory foam mattress. He could even imagine you ordering a breakfast spread the morning after; knowing you so well.

These thoughts that flood his head and warm his face convince him to dig out his cell phone from his sweatpants’ pocket. He taps to your contact and calls, hoping you would pick up soon. There isn't any time difference, right?

—

You sit at your desk working on an assignment for your job, your face leaning in your palm as you click through tens of slides. Honestly, you didn't have to be working that late into the night, but it felt better to have a task to distract yourself from your best friend and lover is away. Within the time you’ve been an item, this incident has only come up a couple times, so it's been difficult to understand the empty feeling you experience in bed each night passing.

Suddenly, your phone starts to buzz against the hardwood of the desk. Picking your hand up from your computer mouse, you flip the phone over to check the contact. Your eyes widen and your shoulders perk up to the name written across the screen. You immediately hit the answer button and lift it to your ear.

“Hi, love,” a smile beaming across your face. “Are you alright?” your excited expression slightly falters when you realize he might be calling as an emergency. Maybe he’s hurt?

“Yeah, yes, I’m just fine, sweetie, hey,” he responds quickly to ease your nerves. “I just wanted to call and catch up while I can. I miss you so much, Y/N.” His voice dancing through the speaker directly into your ear makes him feel closer than he actually is. It’s lower than usual, so probably a mix of the microphone filtering and exhaustion from a long day. Either way, the vibrations of his gruff tone send waves of satisfaction down your spine.

“It feels so good to hear your voice, babe.” you lower your voice to a comforting whisper. “So, what’s up, how’s everything going?’ You move from your desk chair and shut off your computer, deciding to move all of your attention to him.

“It‘s been a lot of work, but everyone here is putting in their best effort,” you hear him say as you climb into your shared bed to rest against the mountain of throw pillows stacked across the headboard. Spinner feels his throat tighten recognizing the sound of the rustling sheets beneath your body. His attention being interrupted by the thought of watching you crawl across the mattress in those mini pajama shorts you usually wear to bed. The cups of your ass showing proudly to him as you sway your hips to tease him before you lay close together. “Actually, speaking of them,” he continues. “We were put up in a hotel for the night and I actually got a suite to myself. Could you believe it, baby?” he laughs softly.

You position yourself snugly into your usual side of the bed. It feels more comfortable to leave his space open, especially when you can still smell his scent on the pillows and favorite blanket beside you. “Oh my god, the League of Villains gets to spend a night in a swanky hotel! That’s so nice, love. I hope you’re enjoying it, I wish I could be there with you,” you gush.

“I know, it would be so amazing if you could come along with me. But, I don't want you to get hurt over my job. That would kill me,” as always, you hear the compassion in his voice that comes whenever he talks about protecting you from his actions.

“I understand, cutie, it’s okay,” you smile. “But, you know I am strong enough to take on some of the people you fight, even without huge muscles like yours,” you tease, your subconscious pushing you to change the subject to something more erotic. You silently hope you could ease his tensions about his dangerous lifestyle. Being alone gives you way more time to wonder about what will happen once he returns, but sometimes it’s even more fun to be impatient.

“C'mon,” he groans. “Don’t say it like that, sweetheart,” laughing as his hand runs through his loose hair. “I still have a few more days out here without you. And, uh, tonight’s the only night I have privacy… It’ll be the only time I’ll get to, ya know…”

“What, I totally wasn’t coming onto you? I wasn’t trying anything, I swear. I was just complimenting the talent of my hard-working boyfriend,” you tease, waiting to pull your favorite reaction from him.

“I definitely wouldn't mind having you come onto me right now,” your touch starved boyfriend says in a low voice, slightly embarrassed by his forwardness. Since being experienced before you, an ounce of attention towards his hormonal brain sends him wanting loads more.

Jackpot.

“You would love it if I came onto your face, huh, love?” you breathe out, a wide grin holding residence on your face.

“Holy shit, yes baby,” he chokes out. His empty hand is already roaming down his abdomen in anticipation.

“Or, my slick easily running down my thighs onto you after both of your cocks stretch me to my limit…” you tantalize, testing the waters for how far he wanted to go.

A low, long groan sounds into your ear. Spinner slowly rocks his hips upward in frustration, his palm finally reaching the top of his prominent bulge.

“If you’re wearing it, pull your tank off, Shuichi,” you gently command.

“Shi-,” he attempts to pull his top off with one hand, but the action taunts him when he realizes to pull it off with both. Removing his hand from his pants, he pulls the tank over his head and shucks it to the corner of the room. The second his attention is back on you, he turns his phone to the speaker to set it on his pillow. Both hands are fully free now. “Love, what are you wearing right now?”

“One of your extra tanks and some soft teeny shorts. Why?” acting oblivious to the actual meaning of his question.

“God, those shorts, I might have been thinking you- in them,” he breathes out. “Could I see? Send a pic, or we could video call. Fuck, anything,” he groans impatiently.

You smile to yourself as he admits to being needy, and it only encourages you to brave up and push into the mood more. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll send you whatever you’d like. Right now you’re just going to listen to my voice and follow exactly what I say for you to do. Deal?” You drop your voice into a sultry tone.

“Deal. I’d do anything,” Shuichi whines.

“Ok,” you pull away from the phone to take deep breaths before continuing. “Relax and lay back.

Are you comfortable?”

“Mhm.”

“With one hand, massage your hard-on over your pants. And with your other… pretend it’s mine as you trail over your stomach,” you instruct sensually.

Spinner follows your words carefully as he grinds his palm into his groin. His fingers wrap roughly around the circumference of the prominent outline in his pants trying to add friction to his prick that rests underneath layers. His other palm slides against his abdomen to lightly caress the muscle beneath it.

Imagining him in such a position, you pull your hand to one of your breasts and roll a nipple between your fingers. The thin material of the tank top is the only thing stopping you from feeling the soft skin of your chest. You set the phone down on the bed on the speaker, and continue your ministrations. “My hand is running against each of your abs, my fingers tracing the intricate grooves made by your scales. You have the hottest body, Shuichi,” you moan into the phone as you begin to pull your shorts down your legs.

“Mmm,” he moans involuntarily. “Ah- tell me, are you- touching yourself, too?”

“You’ll find out eventually,” your tease happily. “Tonight’s about you, and I'm sure you're following my instructions to the letter. Right? Because if not, remember, you won’t be getting any proof of how wet my pussy is tonight.”

“Shit, when you talk like that, I- I can’t- I can’t handle it, Y/N,” he whimpers.

“Well, I really want to see how long you can last, Spinner,” you say pulling your top over your head. “So, you can take your cocks out, now.” He groans as he quickly tugs his sweatpants down his thighs. Both weeping pricks springing free from against the right waistband. Precum clings to his pants creating thin, sticky ropes of a clear liquid that make a mess of his lower stomach. “I'm sure they kinda hurt from throbbing against your pants, aching for some relief. Would you like some relief, sweetie?

“Yea-yes, Y/N,” he stutters.“Please, let me touch myself.”

“Hmm, you may, but just one. Don’t dare try to wrap your fist around both of them.” your voice is low. You lay in bed in only your underwear and quietly pull them to the side to give your clit some relief of its own.

“Ahh, Y/N,” Shuichi moans while stroking his thick cock languidly, tossing glances at his other cock leaking precum against his pubis. “You would give me head if you were here right? You know I can’t stand the teasing when we’re face to face. This feels so- so different. God, you’re so- ah- hot.”

Both of you, especially Spinner, are usually shy about sexual advances in person, so trying this new way of sending sexy messages felt so good. “Mmm, Shuichi,” you breathe out. Your fingers lacing through your slicked folds while you listen to the clicking of each of his jerks through the phone. “Just for that, go ahead and start stroking both together.” You hear him spit into his palm as he attempts to push both throbbing pricks together into one steady hand.

The late-night and the emptiness of both of your rooms are only filled with each other’s moans and pining words calling for each other’s bodies. Your hands move together as your eyes shut to deepen the illusion of his presence.

“I’m- close, I’m gonna,” Spinner grunts out.

Your eyes shoot open. “Wait! I have something for you,” snapping out of your sultry voice as if in an emergency. “Give me one sec.” You pick up your phone from the bed and angle the camera towards your body before sending it off as a text.

Spinner fumbles around with his phone, lacking to be grossed out by his own saliva covered hand as he opens your message. “Ohh,” he grunts. The photo showed the position you’d been pleasuring yourself in; legs spread wide showing off your dripping cunt and fingers resting on your clit. “Fuck! You- you look so gorgeous. God, please let me cum!”

“Go ahead, baby. I wish my fingers were you right now,“ you offer.

“Fuuu- uhh. I'm coming, I'm-” his voice catches before he let out a stream of muffled moans. Both of his cocks shoot ropes of his load onto his abdomen, emptying him until he’s completely spent. Spinner takes deep guttural breaths before letting out a sigh of relief.

“How was that?” you ask nervously, you decide not to go for your own orgasm.

“That was great, I had no clue you could do that! Did you learn that from that one otome game?” he says, genuinely curious.

You laugh and cover your hand with your face in exhaustion. “I’m glad you liked it, but now I’m getting sleepy. I’m gonna get some rest, Shuichi.”

“No problem, you're the best, ya know,” he smiles, exhausted. ”Goodnight, sleep well,” he says lovingly.

“Goodnight,” you smile.

Ending the call, your next action would either be the best decision or one you’d regret. You scroll through your contacts before calling your mutual friend, who also was away on the same mission. The phone rings against your ear as you wait, but it picks up only a few seconds later.

“Hey, sorry if I woke you up, I need the hotel information of where you all are staying. I need Spinner’s room number, too,” you request.

“Aw, do you want to come and visit him? So cute! Fuck off, don’t call me this late again, Y/N.”

—

You walked down the sidewalk of a city a few hours away from your home in one of your boyfriend’s tee’s, leggings, and a tote clutched to your side. It’s early in the morning, you’d caught the train around 7am and prepared a plan while sitting alone in the carriage. You finally made it to the entrance of the hotel with your cell phone in your hand to double-check the room number you’d easily convinced Twice to send you. Walking through the lobby, your shoes echo off the marble floor. You softly say “good morning” to the concierge before walking to the elevators at the back of the room and tapping the up button.

Your stomach turns while you walk down the hallway of his floor. What if he's bothered by you being there? What if the plan doesn’t work out? Either way, he responds, you had at least planned for a sweet day date with him away from his team. With a hopeful expression, you knock on his suite door and shift your feet on the hallway carpet waiting for him to respond.

The clicking of locks opening behind the door elevates your mood before the door is swung open. Your boyfriend in pajamas grins wildly as he pounces on you for a hug. “Y/N!” he exclaims, pressing his snout down into your shoulder. You squeeze him close to your body with both arms thrown around his back, surprised at his forwardness. “What are you doing here! Oh, uh, haha, come inside.” You follow him into the living area part of the suite, closing the door behind you.

“Honestly, I wanted to see you in person after our call from last night,” you admit. “So, I got Twice to share the information with me, I hope that’s ok. I know you don’t want Tomura to find out, but I couldn’t help myself,” you explain.

“No, no, I- I like that you came to me, that’s the nicest thing ever, babe,” Spinner says, pulling your hand into the sleeping area. “But, check this room out! I had a whole queen bed to myself, flat-screen TV…, and a desk!”

You watch him swing his arms around the room to show you as much as he could before he had to check out later that afternoon. His excitement for things he’s passionate about always made you love him more. You lean into his side and place a kiss to the side of his snout. He halts his show-and-tell before turning to look into your eyes, a smile growing on his face. His cheeks are blushing.

“You stole a kiss from me?” He questions. “You know what happens when you do that,” Spinner turns on his fake villainous voice before taking your chin in his hand. And then, starts to tickle your neck.

“Shuichi! Ah, no!” You walk backward into the edge of the bed trying to escape his grasp. You fall over onto the soft mattress when his hands roam to your sides and your thighs, continuing his attack. Always being careful with his sharp nails. “Haha ah! C’mon, Mr. Villain! I promise- I won’t steal another!”

Now, his body is hovering above yours, his long, strong arms holding your body like a vice. He stops to stare at your pretty face that's laughing and smiling because of him.

You stare back while locking eyes with his. Wanting to make the move you’d traveled there for, you rush to the front of his snout and lock your lips with his. Tracing the precise shape of his jaw with your fingers. Your bodies come together, noses nuzzled against the others’.

His strength helps pull you both up toward the middle of the bed. Once reaching a more comfortable spot, you use your own strength to push him onto his back. You straddle your legs over his hips and lean down to kiss his neck. Pressing your hot lips against his skin, you let your tongue slip out before sucking the spot he usually hides under a scarf. You whisper sweetly, “I told you I was stronger than you thought, handsome. How would you feel for me to use you like a toy?” Lifting your head, you watch his blown out eyes in anticipation.

Sunlight pours into the room in rays from the large windows at the side of the room while thin curtains give some amount of privacy. Luckily, you were on a high floor. His brown eyes show amber flecks as the sun hits them. He searches your expression for any sign of a lie or joke. “You want to have sex?” he asks, oblivious.

“I want you to fuck me, love… if you’d like that of course" you whisper.

He can’t believe the love of his life just traveled several hours to do something so sinful with his body. His eyes darken a shade in arousal, hoping you’ll dominate his every move, just as you’d done the night before. “Shit, yes. I need you-”

You raise your shirt over your head to throw it over your shoulder before reaching for the edge of his own. Spinner raises his arms above his head and lets you pull it off of his torso. You kiss his nose before sliding down his body eagerly, taking the waistband of his pants with you. Kissing the lines leading down from his Apollo’s belt, you close your eyes in comfort. When you finally open them again, a flutter of your fingers moves his cocks until they’re hard and straining against your hand.

“Please, suck me. I need your tongue, you’re so good,” he stammers. His index finger is pinched between his teeth as you lick up the full length of his sleek shaft. Once you bring your mouth to his tip, the swirl of your tongue against his hole makes him squirm against the sheets. “Ah, so sensitive,” he whimpers.

You lift your mouth from his dripping prick and smile upwards at his blushing face. “So, you don’t want me to blow you, babe?,” you tease as you stroke him slowly in one hand.

“No, no, no keep going!” Spinner yelps trying to sway his hips in your moving hand for friction.

Your head dips back down to the cock in your hand and you wet your lips before taking an amount of his thick length in your mouth. The taste of his bittersweet precum grazing your palate. He groans as you continue in a bobbing motion reminding you of the night before. Your inner thighs rub together to give friction to your hidden cunt.

You continue to bob your head up and down, pressing your tongue against his shaft. His moans motivate you to take both of his cock tips between your lips; you’re still learning how to completely pleasure both of his members equally. You drag your tongue back and forth along his weeping tips in a swiping motion and watch his reaction from underneath your lashes. The size of his eyes and raised brow make you giggle against him; it gives you even more encouragement to keep going. Giving a kiss on the inner part of his muscular thigh, you sit up and pull your leggings off.

Your boyfriend does a double-take when he realizes you're not wearing anything underneath. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me,” he throws his head back against the pillow. You giggle and climb back up his body while Shuichi’s hands pull your hips into his lap to straddle him again. He rocks your body back and forth easily making your slit slide along the length of his shaft. The ridge before his cock tip hitting your clit with every turn.

“Ooh,” you repeat with every time his hard tip skims your engorged pearl. “I wanna ride your cock, babe,” you moan above him. Spinner’s face flushes as he nods and picks your hips up from his body. He ogles your arousal covering the entirety of his cock before allowing you to take it in your small hand to line it up with your entrance. His focused gaze switches from watching you prod your hole to the lewd expression on your face. Your lip being held between your teeth, you lower yourself onto his cockhead. “Ahh,” you gasp. Your chest quickly rises at the sudden development. The built-up arousal causes your body to fall onto his dick in full. You both groan at the abrupt stretch and tightness of your drenched sleeve wrapped around him.

“Y/N, you’re so beautiful. How am I so lucky?” he gushes. You smile down at him and start your back and forth movements, holding onto his broad shoulders for guidance.

Shuichi caresses your thighs as you ride him sensually. You reach down and run your fingers through his hair as you moan. You continue to roll your hips as he closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours, "Enjoy yourself. Take me all you want.” Spinner groans at your slow movements; the nails of his forefingers sinking into your ass like lead as he tries to thrust up into you impatiently. You put your entire weight into him as you press his chest down into the mattress; you forbid him from moving without your permission. “You make me feel- ah- So. Fucking. Good,” he grunts with every smack of your ass against his thighs as you bounce on his dick. His other cock lies beneath your spread thigh; it gains pleasure from the fiction caused by you bouncing and grinding.

You breathe heavily above him. The stretch you feel from his textured cock is heavenly, but once he reaches to poke into your cervix it’s difficult to control your rhythm. “Oh fuck! Right there!” The feeling makes you fall from your posture above him to his level. Your arms circle his neck as your chests are pressed together to continue. The curved tip of his cock slides repeatedly into the soft, ridged spot inside of you as he thrusts upwards into your body now. Forgetting about your assertion about taking control, he pistons his hips forward from the mattress into your sopping cunt over and over again; he’s only trying to get you to your climax now. The feeling of your pretty little hole tightening tells him your close to coming undone.

“Fuck, yes, just like that! Please, a little more,” you groan into his shoulder. You whine after each of his thrusts into his neck. Your words of praise becoming mush as he plows through your body.

“Fuck, I can feel you-. You’re all mine, ugh, you’re pussy is all mine, huh?,” he grunts into your ear. “Cum on my cock. I want it, baby, please- Give it to me!” he says in rhythm to each one of his thrusts as he holds your hips down into his groin.

A large knot in your stomach tightens abruptly and your throat catches before you feel the snap coming. His words encourage your body to let go as your face the orgasm you had denied yourself the night before. You let out a flow of whines and “yes’s” riding your high on his pulsating prick. The next moment, you watch as Spinner’s snout turns upwards and his eyes roll back into his head as he unloads thick strings of warm cum into your cunt. Your exhausted walls unable to give him more before his slippery cock slides out; it lands on his abdomen with a smack in a pool of cum from his other cock.

Shuichi holds your hips above him as you both come down from your highs. His fingertips gently sliding over the indentations from his nails on your ass cheeks and thighs. You place a long kiss on his snout and cheek before throwing yourself to his side on the bed. You both let out deep sighs in pleasure as you both turn to look at one another in awe.

“So,” you laugh. “I planned a cute breakfast date out on the town, but this feels so nice,” you say, smiling.

“A date, with me?” You giggle and nod. His face is flushed, but he responds to you in the same amount of contentment, “I still want to experience the room service, so let’s clean up and I’ll order whatever you want.”

[satuguro]

stars | pt. 2

@astroninaaa : I saw you answered that ask about sokka and omg please right something for him!!! anything!!! i would die for it!!! maybe some angst with a happy ending??? oof i love it

IN WHICH: fighting is similar to flirting, right?

PAIRING: sokka x reader, hints of zuko x reader

INSPIRED BY: how to be yours — chris renzema, girl crush — little big town

WARNING: brief sexual tension (??)

NOTES: whew this is a long one. but here’s the second part of stars! thank you so much for the support you all had given me for this short miniseries.

part 1 !

sokka had stumbled back to the campsite that night, hurriedly wiping his tears from his face. he wasn’t going to cry. why cry over someone who wasn’t his?

the others had gone to bed early, leaving him alone with the dying campfire and the moon above. sokka sat on one of toph’s rock benches, putting his head in his hands as he desperately tried to get himself together. you weren’t his. you were never his. zuko could protect you more than he ever could— how could he ever compare?

“sokka?” your voice, like a splash of water on a hot day, broke through his thoughts. sokka tried to compose himself as he sat up straighter, clearing his throat as he opened his mouth to respond. he turned around, and his words died in his throat.

zuko stood next to you, the usual scowl he wore being replaced with one of fondness. you were so close to each other, as if you were practically leaning on the other while all sokka could do was watch. a pained expression appeared on his face when he saw your fingers thrumming against your thigh, ever so lightly brushing against zuko’s.

“hey!” sokka managed, forcing a smile that would certainly make you question him if it weren’t for the darkness that surrounded you all. his voice cracked a little, and while he was a growing boy, he knew that his emotions were to blame.

you beamed at him, your smile rarer than any gem and stronger than 112 year-old avatar. the mere sight of your smile made him feel safe, and sokka almost caught himself giving you a genuine smile back until—

“i’m gonna go to my tent now,” zuko hummed, glancing at sokka for a second before looking down at you, who gave him the same beaming smile. it was as if sokka was watching you both come together as one, as if he was watching two puzzle pieces finally find each other. his smile melted into a pained expression as he watched you give zuko a small hug that made him freeze before he slowly wrapped his arms around you. the hug lasted only a few seconds, but for sokka it felt like years.

zuko pulled away, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he nodded farewell and resorted back to his tent, leaving only his shadow behind. you and sokka watched him, before you turned to sokka, ready to continue on with your usual nightly adventures.

“oh— i need to go to bed too!” sokka said hastily, moving past you as quickly as he could. his tent was only a few steps away. he just needed to get by you.

but he knew better than to act off around you. you were more observant than you looked (despite your obliviousness to emotions). you reached out to him, your warm hand taking his cold one in your hold. you pulled him back, underestimating your own strength before he crashed into you, your heaving chests touching each other’s.

“hi,” you stated, making his face flush an embarrassed red.

“y/n.” sokka swallowed down his words. as if his situation couldn’t get worse— the moonlight was hitting you perfectly, and your amber eyes were practically sparkling under the sky. the light gently caressed your face in such a way that made you look like a goddess, and he found himself weak at the knees when he felt your gentle breath against his skin.

“you okay?” worry laced your words, and you didn’t seem fazed by your closeness as you stared up at him. little wisps of his hair had fallen out of his wolf tail, making you gently reach up to the tie and let his hair fall down. little bits of leaves fell out, and you couldn’t hold back the amused chuckle you let out.

the little gesture made his eyes flutter shut for just a moment at the feeling of your fingers in his hair. “i’m— i’m fine. when am i ever not fine?”

“when there’s turbulence when we ride appa, when katara and toph gets mad, when momo steals your food, when i steal your boomerang—“

“okay,” sokka rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of something, anything that would make his rapid heart slow down.

you grinned at him, that grin that was always a little crooked and showed your slight dimples in your cheeks. “as much as i hate you,” you joked, finally breaking away from the compromising position you had both been in. “i get worried about you, sokka.” that was the most vulnerability you had shown him in a while; oftentimes, you tended to keep your feelings to yourself. but as you uttered the sentence, you felt your face burn. the mere feeling made you turn away from the water tribesman, heart pounding at the unfamiliar emotions going on inside your head.

you heard sokka call out to you, his tone hopeful, as if he was a schoolboy whose dream girl had just confessed to him. “really?” he asked, and you turned around, seeing him standing right where you left him. you managed a close lipped smile, hiding your fear and confusion at the fluttering of your stomach at the sight of him.

“really. i mean it, sokka.”

you couldn’t sleep that night. you had stared up at your tent, mind racing as you tried to figure out what all the new feelings meant. never had you felt such a thing, and a part of you wanted it to go away forever.

another part of you welcomed it with open arms.

every time you saw him, you felt free, as if everything would be okay. it was dangerous to feel so safe around one person; the bandits taught you better. but as your eyes slowly closed and sleep took hold, you realized that maybe those emotions weren’t so bad after all.

┈┈ 𑁍༅ཾ༚ ┈┈

a few days had passed. since that weird ‘confession night.’ nothing odd had happened since then— other than the fact that sokka and zuko were arguing more than usual.

the overwhelming heat radiating off the sun came off in waves that hit you all, making you all lazy and desperate for water.

you were lucky enough to have stumbled (literally) into a lake that was hidden within the trees. toph had pushed you the minute she felt it, knowing fully well that you could handle a little water.

that was where you all resided— after moving appa and your belongings, you all stood in and next to the lake, swimming and splashing in the water. katara and aang were ‘training,’ which was their excuse for making huge waves of water crash over everyone.

you hadn’t gone deep into the water, instead opting to keep your legs in. you watched as toph whispered something to sokka, which made sokka throw his boomerang, hitting katara right in the head. he threw his head back in laughter, but his laughing slowly turned to horrified screaming as katara made a gush of water rise up from underneath him, throwing him into the sky. toph’s laughter followed, but then her laughs turned into threats as aang did the same for her.

“why aren���t you swimming?” zuko’s voice made you avert your eyes to the water in front of you, and you silently prayed that he didn’t see you staring at your friend.

your friend. that was all sokka was.

“it’s not really my thing,” you replied, glancing at the prince as he took a seat on the sand next to you. he hummed in agreement, rubbing his hands into the hot sand beneath him.

“tell me about it,” zuko propped his hands behind him, looking at the others having the time of their lives. “i fell into a fountain once. after that, i never really went into the water. i guess it’s a weird fire nation thing.”

“or you’re just a weird guy,” you said with a teasing smirk, throwing your head back in laughter as zuko playfully punched your shoulder.

“it’s not funny,” zuko grumped, making you laugh even harder.

“c’mon, zu. it’s a little funny.”

your lighthearted bickering made sokka gaze over at the shore, watching as you and zuko laughed with each other. he tried to ignore the aching of his heart when he saw how relaxed the grumpy fire prince was around you. no one else in team avatar could make him open up like you did.

“since you’re being so mean,” zuko sat up straighter, trying to avoid the growing smirk he had on his face. he poked you, making you swat his hand away. “i saw you staring at sokka,” he said, gauging your reaction.

you only blinked at him, face going blank as you stated, “i have no idea what you’re talking about,” which only made zuko’s stupid smug smirk grow.

“c’mon, y/n. i’m not blind.”

“but toph is.”

“don’t change the subject.” zuko rolled his eyes at your words. he had found a connection to you, much like sokka did, but he saw how you looked at him. you looked at sokka the same way you looked at the stars. and you loved the stars. “i’m serious. just say something.”

“what’ll i say?” you blurted, arms waving as you gave up on blocking zuko out. you knew it was pointless. “‘hey, my stomach feels like it’s flying and i feel like i’m having a heart attack whenever you’re around?’”

“sure,” zuko shrugged, and you gaped at him, trying to read the little emotions he showed. but from what you saw, he was serious. “it’s not that bad. i’ve heard worse.”

sokka felt the water rushing around him bring him back to the ground, his eyes still set on you and zuko before his boomerang was thrown at his head. “ow! toph,” he whined, glaring at the younger girl, who was lazily laying on the water as if it was nothing.

“your heart’s beating too much! make it stop,” toph complained, wading closer to him and poking his chest harshly.

“i’d die, toph.”

“good!” toph huffed angrily, crossing her arms as she got onto her feet, earthbending the groung under the water to come up to her height.

“do you think they’re together?” sokka couldn’t help but ask her, making the earthbender turn the opposite way as she ‘tried to see.’ rolling his eyes, sokka grabbed her head and pointed it towards you and zuko.

“that doesn’t help,” toph stated, obviously disgruntled by her friend’s attitude.

“it’s zuko and y/n,” sokka explained with a frown. he wanted to be happy for you — there was no doubt in his mind that you and zuko were perfect for each other — but he couldn’t ignore his own emotions. how could he feel so broken over someone who never felt the same way he did?

“them? gross,” toph stuck her tongue out to emphasize her words, wrinkling her nose in disgust. she expected sokka to complain, to punch her in the shoulder and continue to whine about his situation, but there was nothing. there was no complaining, no whining, nothing. that was when toph saw the full picture. “you like her?”

panic immediately filled his veins as his eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. “is it obvious?” sokka squeaked, and his question was met with a hard punch from toph. “ow! stop,” he whined once again, making her let out a short huff through her nose.

“‘is it obvious?’” toph mocked and scoffed, “of course it is! the only reason why y/n hasn’t noticed is because she can’t hear your heartbeat every minute of the day!” the shorter girl paused for a second, frown deepening.

“but she must be as blind as i am if she doesn’t see it.”

the day continued on from there, with the short period of relaxing being replaced by training next to the lake. you had asked zuko to teach you more firebending, but he only shook his head and shoved you towards sokka, who was sharpening his blades under a tree.

“go!” zuko had hissed, ignoring your deathly glare as he turned around to go find the others. you could practically hear the laughter he was holding back.

begrudgingly, you walked towards sokka. you stood awkwardly in front of him, head snapping towards zuko’s direction, only to find him gone. you bit your bottom lip as you nervously tapped your foot against the ground, waiting for sokka to look up at you.

sokka could see your through his peripheral vision. he could see the way you tapped your foot impatiently, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. he didn’t want to seem bothered, even though ‘bothered’ was an understatement of what he felt.

you didn’t know what to do. he wasn’t acknowledging you, and you didn’t want to say something stupid. you never had this problem before; not until now at least. you were panicking, and as you bit your bottom lip harder, you did the first thing that came to mind.

you punched his shoulder, underestimating your own strength as you practically knocked him to his side.

“ow!” sokka yelped, dropping his blades as he went to rub his upper arm. “why is everyone doing that today?” he muttered under his breath, finally looking up at you. his gleaming blue eyes met your’s, and before he could say something sarcastic, you beat him to it.

“want to train?” you blurted, making sokka blink in surprise. usually, you trained with aang and zuko. you wanted to master your firebending, and with them being the only firebenders, it only made sense.

sokka picked up his blades, raising a questioning eyebrow as he stood up. “what about zuko?” he unintentionally spat the fire prince’s name out as if the name was poison on his tongue. sokka realized his mistake immediately, a deep red blush appearing on his cheeks as he sputtered. “and— and aang. aang too,” he managed, rubbing the back of his neck as he kept himself composed. all he had to do was act as normal as possible.

“they’re doing avatar stuff,” you replied hastily, and if the others were here to see you both, they’d laugh at your poor attempt at ‘keeping cool.’ oh, if only they could see it; you, the girl who had been raised by criminals, failing to show her emotions to a boy. a boy was making you feel this way! “please?”

a slight grin made its way onto sokka’s face, and you couldn’t help but let your shoulders relax at the sight. “aw, little firecracker wants my attention?” he jested, making your walls crumble. there he was — the real, slightly annoying sokka.

“just this once, princess,” you beamed, taking his hand and leading him to the beach. sokka’s hand was cool, like an ocean wave, and it clashed greatly with the heat that came off of your hand.

once you arrived to the beach, you both stood a few feet away from each other, ready to fight.

“no bending!” sokka said, taking out his sword and twirling it in an attempt to show off.

“no weapons either!” you retorted, making the tanned boy groan and toss his weapons to the side. you smirked, fingers curling into fists as you got yourself in a fighting stance.

you knew zuko would be disappointed, but he had to live with it. you didn’t know how to flirt— if anything, this was the closest thing to flirting that you could manage.

fighting was similar to flirting. right?

sokka advanced first, running up to you and throwing a punch that made you move to the side, hitting his back and making him nearly fall into the sand. you turned around, smiling innocently as he quickly regained his stance. this time, you advanced, moving quickly as you tried to kick him in the stomach. sokka deflected it with his arm, and tried to kick your head, only for you to duck and hit him in his chest.

you went up and punched his face before he kicked you in the chest, sending you into the sand below. sokka was on top of you before you could stand up, and he grabbed your hands and pinned them over your head.

you wanted to wipe the smug smirk he had on his face.

“i win,” sokka stated, and you rolled your eyes. you hooked your leg around his waist, using your strength to flip you both over. with a thump.

his hair had fallen out of its wolf tail, falling over his face and on the ground around him. it was your turn to grab his wrists and put them above his head, your wicked smile making his throat go dry.

“you’re mistaken, princess,” you teased, the nickname you had given him rolling off your tongue like a spell. your hair was falling over your face as you hovered over him, and you were slightly out of breath, but sokka wasn’t complaining.

he didn’t even fight against your words. sokka only nodded his head rapidly, eyes trailing down to your slightly parted lips. little puffs escaped them, even a bit of fire, and he swore he had never seen anything hotter (pun intended) in his life. sokka quickly averted his eyes back to your’s, only to find you staring down at his own parted lips.

you leaned down, heart going millions of miles per minute as you finally kissed him. the kiss only lasted a few seconds.

sokka shoved you off of him, standing up and looking down at you with shock. he didn’t see the hurt that gleamed in your eyes at the action. “you—“ he couldn’t get his words out, mind racing as he tried to say his thoughts. “you and zuko—“ sokka let out a frustrated groan, running a hand through his hair as he shut his eyes.

you didn’t just cheat on him with zuko. you didn’t do that.

“what about us?” you propped yourself up on your elbows, genuine confusion filling you as you watched sokka avoid your eyes. you didn’t understand— how could you? you and zuko were friends. sokka had to know that.

“just— you and zuko!” sokka yelled, arms flailing wildly. he couldn’t choose just one thing to say; he wanted to say a million things to you, but all he could manage was ‘you and zuko.’ he took in a deep breath, finally meeting your concerned gaze as he calmed himself. “you’re... dating him, aren’t you?” he asked, voice uncharacteristically quiet after his outburst.

“what?” you snorted, unable to hold back the small chuckle you let out. but once you realized sokka wasn’t laughing with you, you quickly stopped. “you can’t be serious,” you stood up, dusting yourself off.

sokka only shook his head stubbornly.

“oh my gods,” you breathed, “you thought we were together.”

“how could i not?” sokka protested, desperation clear on his face as he finally let himself go. the words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them. “you both look so happy together! he opens up to you, he trusts you, and... and the way he looks at you!” he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. he wasn’t blind to the way zuko looked at you. it was because that was how sokka looked at you. “he looks at you,” sokka’s voice quieted with each word, “like you’re the stars.”

you couldn’t speak. you were only looking at him, mouth slightly agape as you took in his words.

“that night, when you said you never felt beautiful,” sokka gulped. there was no going back now. “i thought you were beautiful. i wanted to tell you that you were gorgeous, that i couldn’t believe someone that looked like you,” he motioned to you, arms crazy despite the passion in his voice. “had any insecurities. but you’re beautiful, y/n,” he breathed out. all caution was thrown to the wind when sokka finished, the silence around you both almost deafening as he waited for you to respond.

“we aren’t together, you idiot,” you couldn’t help but say, and while anyone would’ve taken offense to your words, your tone was full of fondness. you were smiling — you had been doing that more nowadays — as you looked at sokka, watching his face fall.

“you aren’t?” sokka squeaked out.

“no! he was helping me out because,” you hesitated, shaking your head in disbelief. you had been dancing around each other the entire time. “because... i needed help with you.” you walked closer to sokka, feeling his soft breath against your skin as you gently put hands on the sides of his face, eyes staring into each other’s. your conversation with zuko echoed in your head, and you raised your eyebrows once you remembered your own words. “my stomach feels like it’s flying and i feel like i’m having a heart attack whenever you’re around,” you stated with a grin, making the boy throw his head back in laughter.

he couldn’t hold back his beaming smile as he looked at you. “spirits, we’re dumb,” sokka muttered, and you let out a laugh before he closed the gap between you both, pressing your lips against his.

your lips moved gently against his, eyes shut as you pulled him tighter to you. he tasted like salt and chocolate, a combination that you didn’t mind in the slightest. your fingers played with the hair on the nape of his neck, making him hum contentedly.

when you finally pulled away, you took a good look at him. pieces of hair fell over his eyes, and his face was flushed a deep color of red. sokka’s lips were red as well, but his eyes looked like he held the whole sky within them.

you looked at him as if he was the stars. he believed you were more beautiful than any sky he had seen.

┈┈ 𑁍༅ཾ༚ ┈┈

NOTES: we’ve reached the end! as always, thank you all so much for your support <3

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