#dawn and dom goes to school moments??

[mars-incorrect-quotes]

[Dom and Dawn on the way to school; Dawn is reading a journal that's decorated with frog stickers]

Dom: Dawn, that better not be what I think it is. You better not have brought my diary to school.

Dawn: I had to. I'm doing my book report on it.

[jungkxook]

—stay. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: popstar!jungkook x groupie!reader + smut / sprinkle of angst and fluff

⟶ words: 8,083

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: jungkook wasn’t always so madly in love with you but the fact that you’re sleeping with two of his band mates too makes things a tad bit complicated.

⟶ warnings: multiple smut scenes, slight dom themes, oral sex, finger sucking oops, boob fondling, hair pulling ft. jungkook’s undercut, doggy style, missionary, thigh riding, spitting, jealous kook!!, unprotected sex, kind of slight possessive themes? but also just general sweetness tbh 

⟶ disclaimer: my time jungkook still has me in my feels! also, this is a repost of an old fic on an old blog.

“Stay with me?”

Jungkook asks this hopefully, of course, but he already knows the answer. It’s just that, lying there with you on the hotel room bed, there’s no other place he’d rather be ━ and there’s no one else he’d rather experience the moment with than you. Legs tangled together on top of the duvet with your fingers tracing circles onto his bare chest, Jungkook swears he’s in love with you ━ only, you’re not his to have. 

“I have to go,” You pout, though your fingers continue drawing constellations on his skin, treading down his arm and over the tattoos that adorn him. You’re focusing now on the lily on his forearm, around and around, sending his head spiralling. “Promised my friends we could hang out today. Besides, don’t you have Mina or Nina���” You wave your hand in the air to dismiss the thought━ “coming over soon?”

“Who?” It takes him a moment to even remember who you’re talking about. Truthfully, he hasn’t seen that girl in well over six months but he’d never tell you that. In fact, he hasn’t been seeing anyone else other than you but he would definitely never tell you that. “Oh, yeah. Well, I think she’s coming over later tonight.”

“Well━” You trail off, and Jungkook knows it’s because you’re stalling. You want to stay, and he knows it well enough, but every question you ask him is just meant to further reassure you that it’s okay if you stay. That he wants you to. “Aren’t you busy with work today before the second show?”

Jungkook shrugs. “We still have lots of time before the day starts.”

You shake your head at him but he knows he ultimately wins out when you start to smile to yourself. You prop yourself up beside him and he has to admire momentarily how you’ve never been timid in front of him when you’re naked. His hand reaches out to brush his fingers against your cheek and you smile down at him. But then something seems to dawn on him that he can’t believe he foolishly hadn’t thought of first. 

“Unless… Unless you need to see one of them soon.”

“Who?”

“Taehyung or Namjoon.” It takes all he can muster to say their names without a trace of bitterness. He lifts himself up on his elbow. “Are you still seeing them?”

You shrug innocently. Sitting up a little straighter, you brush his hand away and fidget with your hair. “Would it matter if I was?”

Yes, he wants to scream but he refrains. “No. I just━” he stops. “Just curious. Is that what you meant by work then? You have to go see Tae or something right after me? ”

“No, you prick.” He’s relieved you giggle at him, fingers poking at his chest despite the fact that he was mentally cursing himself for being a dick the minute the words left his mouth. “Believe it or not, I do have a life outside of sex. Friends, too.”

“I know, I know,” he says sheepishly. “Sorry, I━ I know. You said you wanted to go shopping downtown before the show tonight, right? One of your friends ━ Dahyun ━ goes to school in the next city over and she’s taking the day off to see you. I do listen when you talk, y’know?”

He doesn’t miss the warm smile that spreads across your face. You finally return to him, kissing him slow and steadily. In the meantime, he flips you over onto your back and then parts from you much to your dismay. He’s nestled himself between your legs in an instant, kissing up your thigh and sending shivers down your spin. Your hand flies down to twine your fingers in his hair, now much longer than usual.

“I guess I could stay a little longer, if you’d want me to,” You say. 

“I do.”

He wastes no time in swiping his tongue at your folds, his mouth wrapping perfectly around you. You’re already mewling with delight. That’s all it ever is with the two of you. Sex and more sex. And while Jungkook isn’t complaining, he sure does wish he could just have more of you. Jungkook burrows a little deeper, his nose rubbing against your clit as he eats you out. 

“Morning sex does sound nice,” You manage to say, breath shaking.

“Yeah,” he rasps against you. “It does, doesn’t it?”

Your thighs are already threatening to squeeze shut around his head, fingers tightening in their hold. His own hands find purchase on your waist, stretching outward to hold on to you, and nothing can break you both apart. Not even the muffled sound of rapid knocking on the front door of the too grand hotel room. At least, not the first two times. On the third time when it’s followed by the sound of Jungkook’s manager irritably calling out through the flimsy wood panel, does Jungkook groan into your cunt and poke his head upward, craning his neck to look over his shoulder as his manager’s voice carries infuriatingly loudly to you both once again. 

“Get up already, will you? We’ve got several business meetings to conduct today and we haven’t got time for you to sleep off a hangover or whatever it is you’re doing━”

“Gimme ‘til noon!” Jungkook asserts gruffly. He settles himself back between your thighs, and you surely don’t miss the devious way he smirks just before burrowing his head into your heat. There’s an inaudible sound that he makes, that you and certainly his manager can distinguish as being, “I’m too busy right now.”

Busy is an understatement, pointedly made clear when his tongue delves into you, lapping at your leaking wetness as if he were terribly quenched and only you could save him. You don’t think Jungkook taking his morning to eat you out is a good enough excuse that will run over well with his manager later in the day, but it drives him away for now with only a grumbled chorus of words left in his wake. But the silence only lasts for so long. Just as Jungkook is getting comfortable once more, you speak up.

“I don’t think tardiness is a very good quality to have as a celebrity,” You ponder aloud through a heavily pleased sigh.

“Ah, or it’s exactly the thing I need,” he counters with a shit-eating grin. “Being late is a very celebrity thing, isn’t it?”

“When the fame gets to their head,” You snort. Your voice splinters off into a whimper as he tilts his chin up a little higher, lapping deeper into you.

“Then I guess I’m bad.” His voice murmurs against you, rattling you to the bone.

“You’re definitely far from bad. Everyone thinks you’re an angel.”

“Wonder if they’d think the same thing if they saw me now━” He pinches lightly at the inside of your thigh, “head between your legs, and you coming on my tongue.”

You roll your eyes, but your wittiness falls short when he tugs with his teeth at your folds. Your back arches off the bed at once, hips pressing harder against his face.

“Namjoon called last night,” You say. No, you don’t say it. You moan it and even though Jungkook knows it’s because of him and how he’s making you feel in that moment, he still hates hearing someone else’s name roll off the tip of your tongue that isn’t his. “If you must know. Said he wanted to see me in the morning━”

Jungkook grimaces. He grunts shortly, “Guess you’re gonna have to let him down.”

“I’m sure Joon will love that━”

“Don’t,” he hisses. He bites down a little harshly on the inside of your thigh but you don’t mind. When he glances up to look at you, his stare is dark and hooded. “Don’t say their names. Not now. Please.”

You almost miss the desperation in his voice, the way he almost whines his words. You don’t ask, even though you’re curious. You don’t ask, even when he eats you out that morning until he’s made sure you’re crying his name and nothing else. You don’t ask, even when fucks you slow and deep and measured and almost, dare you say, loving like he never has before, clinging onto you as if he can’t live without you. You don’t ask, even when he may get a little rough (just how you like it), as if he’s afraid you’ll leave him right then and there. You don’t even ask when he sucks not one but two hickeys on your neck, large enough for anyone to see. For Taehyung and Namjoon to see.

You never really do ask, even though you notice things have become different.

It’s not as if you haven’t always been close to one another. There are more times than not in which you both physically can’t keep your hands off of one another in public, though in the safest and simplest ways possible. It’s there, in the way you sit next to him with your legs crossed regally on the couch in the green room backstage before a set, playing with the rings on his fingers on the hand resting on your shoulder; there, in the way you sit draped across his lap, leaning into his chest, in the studio as they blur through recordings. When you give advice on composing or lyric writing, Jungkook listens. When you giggle into his ear and whisper lewd things when you probably shouldn’t in the middle of a party with important business men and other celebrities, Jungkook is captivated. 

It wasn’t always supposed to be like this. Jungkook wasn’t always so madly in love with you, but he always knew there was something about you he just could not get enough of. You had chosen him first, approaching him late one night at a bar, and he was instantly head-over-heels. Even if it was mutually agreed upon ━ and oftentimes never really outwardly mentioned ━ that you could sleep around with him, Namjoon, and Taehyung, then Jungkook would have to deal with it. He would do anything, if it meant getting to see you more. At first he didn’t even mind. What was one more groupie to the ever growing list he had already accumulated? He’s never gotten feelings for any of them, so surely he thought he would be okay with you; that maybe whatever he was feeling for you would go away. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

After he asks you the question the first time, he finds himself stuck in a greedy months-long habit of asking you wistfully every time he finds you in his bed. He asks it a thousand and one times, but only ever gets one response from you. You’ll say no, that you have to leave, and sometimes you will. But sometimes ━ sometimes when he knows he wins out because he knows you let your guard down long enough to become besotted by him, a tangible mess with his every touch ━ you’ll linger just a little longer and the notion alone is enough to instill a sense of hope in Jungkook even if he knows it’s wrong. 

And maybe you shouldn’t play along. Then again, he takes all your time and you devote what little you have left afterward to him anyway, pretending that you’re still seeing Taehyung and Namjoon when you’re certainly not.

Sometimes Jungkook catches you when he doesn’t mean to, or isn’t expecting to, and it’s all different moments that physically pain him. Sometimes those moments come from paying one of the guys a visit and stumbling upon you there, too. 

After having not seen you for the whole day, and just before the concert begins, Jungkook is called over to Namjoon’s room within the hotel to discuss some last minute changes to the show (which Jungkook’s positive he would have heard about if he hadn’t ignored his manager early in the morning). Only Namjoon doesn’t answer the door when Jungkook arrives. There’s a crescendo of giggling on the other side of the threshold and then it’s you, and you’re standing there wearing nothing but a baggy shirt of Namjoon’s that barely covers your bum (and shorts too, he thinks, but Jungkook’s much too focused now on you in Namjoon’s shirt). Namjoon’s standing a bit further back, leaning against the wall of the hallway without a shirt on and he’s grinning at something that’s just happened. 

“Took you long enough,” Namjoon calls out. “Come in, we’ll get started. I’ll just be right back━ Just hopped out of the shower━” And then he disappears into another room, most likely to find another shirt that isn’t taken by you.

“Jungkook!” You greet him so cheerfully, as if the sight of you half naked in another man’s home isn’t eating away at Jungkook. You pull him into a hug that’s so tight he can smell your familiar perfume and probably Namjoon’s lingering scent if he focuses hard enough. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jungkook says. He doesn’t mean for his voice to sound so standoffish. He hopes you don’t notice. “You’re back early.”

“Yeah. The girls had to leave but that’s okay.” You’re smiling so bright and wide that it almost hurts. “Namjoon━”

“Wanted to see you?” Jungkook finishes for you, remembering your words earlier in the day. 

“Yeah━” You’re rambling on now but Jungkook isn’t listening. The pain is still lingering and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He knows it isn’t right but he can’t be bothered to care. In that moment, he realizes he’d rather be anywhere but there and he’s never felt that way before.

“Uh━ You know what?” He cringes slightly when he interrupts you. “Forgot I had to do something actually. Mina called earlier ━ said she wanted to talk or whatever.”

Your face immediately drops at the mention of the other girl and it pains him even more to know that you don’t see through his blatant lie. What’s worse is that Mina had called him the night before, but he had turned her down promptly before she could even say what she wanted. 

You glance over your shoulder fleetingly as if to look for Namjoon, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your lower lip. “But I thought you needed to talk with Joon about the show?”

“Can’t, sorry. Tell Namjoon he can do whatever he wants. I don’t care. Seems like he’s got his hands full with you here anyway.”

He hates himself for it ━ he hates how petty he can be, how rude he can sound without truly meaning it ━ but before he can explain himself or apologize in a way that would probably make him look even more like an idiot, he turns his back to you. It’s the first time he’s really ever done something like that. Usually, he puts up with it ━ with you draped over Namjoon’s lap or Taehyung’s hand on your waist because usually he hadn’t always had feelings for you. 

Truth be told, Jungkook doesn’t know how Namjoon or Taehyung feel about “sharing” you. He doesn’t even know how you feel about it or if you’ve noticed Jungkook’s short temper lately. He tries to contain it but he can’t and he hates how he’s become when he’s not alone with you. Lately, he’s started to think that maybe this isn’t right anymore. Maybe he shouldn’t keep meeting up with you if he’s going to feel this way all the time, and it wasn’t fair to you for him to be sulking so much. He’s not supposed to be in love. He’s supposed to be having fun. 

After all, that’s what it was to you, wasn’t it?

But that night something happens.

Jungkook only notices you half an hour into the show later that night even despite the fact that you’re in the same place that you always are, standing on the side in the part of the pit closest to the stage where only family and close friends are allowed to stay. Of course you’re dancing along, just like you always do, and of course you’re watching him and the rest of the boys with starry eyes, just how he loves. You smiled wide at some point when his gaze locked with yours ━ him, drenched in sweat and nearing exhaustion, and you, face-flushed and looking as if you’re having the time of your life.

But that’s the thing about you ━ you’re not like the others. Sure, your eyes tend to drift to him more often than not and linger on him longer than necessary but you don’t just come for him. You live for the music, admire the rest of the boys that have treated him so dearly and make the group what it is. 

And the way he performs ━ you wonder if he purposely exerts himself more because he wants you to only focus on him. Every rough thrust of his hips, every time he grabs at his crotch, dark and hooded eyes meets yours and you know he’s trying to tease you. Trying to make you suffer.

Later, when the concert is finished and you’re at a private room in a club with the boys to celebrate the evening and Jungkook has had one too many shots, he finds you at the bar. He sidles up from behind you, one palm sliding onto the small of your back. You know it’s him even before you look, judging by the familiar stature of his chest pressing against your body, and his usual scent. His lips press to the crook of your neck and your lips unfurl into a smile. You reach up blindly to grab at the nape of his neck as he starts to sway against you to the beat of the music, hips digging into your ass.

“I’ve been dying to be next to you all night.” He whispers this into the shell of your ear and you wonder vaguely how you’ve maintained enough self-control to not drop to your knees and suck him off then and there. Even worse is the fact that he’s still adorned in the makeup from the concert. Your fingers scratch at one of the newly shaved sides of his head, the rest of his long locks only maintain some of its original style pushed back and off his forehead, though now messily mused as it splays out on either side of his head and threatens to hide the undercut once more.

“You’re drunk,” You point out. He doesn’t seem to register the fact that you only point it out because otherwise, if he wasn’t so smashed, you aren’t quite sure he’d even be touching you the way he is now after the way he’s been acting lately.

“So are you,” Jungkook hums. “Let’s get out of here?”

And you can’t possibly say no. 

He thinks it’s a shame, really, because you had looked quite pretty that night wearing a velvet red dress. Because after somehow calling a taxi and stumbling back to his dorm, he gets lost in you for a while and completely ravishes you, impatiently ripping your dress off you and pressing you against the wall, hips eagerly digging into yours until you hook your legs around his hips and he carries you off to bed to finish. 

When you’re spent from your first high, Jungkook moves from your sprawled out positions on the bed and gets up, pulling on a pair of discarded sweatpants from the floor. You watch him as he combs his hair back that’s fallen into his face again, muscles in his biceps rippling as he does so. He reaches for an acoustic guitar in one corner, then sinks onto the edge of the bed. He’s not usually this quiet after a night spent together, though you don’t quite seem to notice, thinking nothing of it as he starts plucking away at the guitar with a melody in mind if only because when he’s frustrated and stuck on a lyric, he usually goes to you in seek of help in terms of finding relief. You get to your knees, crawling over to him so that you can drape your arms around his shoulders from the back.

“That’s pretty,” You sigh dreamily, nodding to the guitar and the lazy strumming he had been doing. In the distance, you realize there’s been music playing faintly the whole time from the dock where his phone is plugged in. You recognize one of the boys’ songs playing, then realize it’s Jungkook’s solo, his own voice singing beautifully back to you. Above all else, you realize all at once that he isn’t really playing anything at all, or brainstorming a new song, but plucking along absentmindedly to the melody of his own song. 

He’s distracted but he tenses at your touch, then relaxes at once, melting instantly against you. “Just messing around,” he sighs.

“Nonsense,” You giggle. He glances over at you just in time to see you reach for his hand, and he watches as you play with the rings on his fingers. “There’s magic in these hands. In more ways than one.”

You press a chilling kiss against his palm, and then the tip of each of his fingers. Time seems to slow, and all he can suddenly focus on is you. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” His voice has a dull, stubborn whine to it that he can’t shake. “Have I ever told you that?”

“Once or twice,” You smirk. You busy yourself by focusing on lining the bottom of your palm with his, measuring your hand in his. He’s much bigger than you, his fingers nearly towering over yours and they’re always so snug and warm.

“Well, it’s true,” he says. “You’re the kinda girl songs are written about.”

“Unless I’m mistaken,” You say in a matter-of-fact tone, “you have written songs about me.”

He feigns a look of doubt, though a smile threatens to tug at his mouth, especially when you delicately lace your fingers with his one-by-one. “Ah, is that what you think, baby girl? Don’t let the fame get to your head.”

You laugh, dropping your head and leaning your temple against his knuckles in an attempt to hide your sheepish face. With his free hand, he sets his guitar back onto the floor and then unravels his other hand from yours. His palm is calloused and hot as it slides onto your cheek, and you nuzzle into it even despite him guiding your face back up to look at him. He can’t help himself; he leans in to kiss you, biting at your lower lip and earning a delicious moan. As his hands come to grip at your sides just over your ribs and the underside of your breasts do you crawl into his lap to straddle him. For a while, he lets himself get carried away, feeling your hands roam his chest, but then with such vivid intensity, he can only imagine Namjoon and Taehyung in the same position as him and it almost makes him want to vomit. Either that, or it’s the alcohol. Gathering his wits, he shakes his head, pulling apart from you.

“I think I should write━” He fumbles uselessly with his words. “Namjoon’s gonna kill me if I don’t finish these songs━”

You arch your chest against his, warm and soft and palpable, and your hips dig into his a little more roughly, rubbing against his straining erection. You can be heard whining sluggishly as you kiss the underside of his jaw, “But I want you inside me, Kook.”

His breath hitches in his throat, but he can’t think straight anymore. Is the scent he smelling even you anymore, or just a mix of Namjoon and Taehyung? And when you tell him he’s the only one who can ever make you feel the way he does, do you tell that to them too? 

His silence is answer enough, and is what ultimately forces you to look up at him. You’re met with an empty expression, then your own countenance is contorting. You sit back on his lap. 

“I don’t understand you anymore, Jungkook,” You say. There it is, he laments to himself. The familiar pang to his chest, the dreaded realization that maybe he’s fucked this whole thing up forever. “It’s like sometimes you can’t get enough of me, touching me here and there and just before shows when you’re supposed to be on in ten minutes, telling me that no one will care if you’re late. Then sometimes it’s like you won’t even look at me. Like you can’t get me off of you fast enough; like you can’t even touch me anymore.”

Jungkook avoids your stare, which he knows is exactly the sort of thing he shouldn’t do. But you already have your answer. You clamber off of his lap at once to slide back onto the bed and he wants nothing more than to pull you back but he knows he shouldn’t. Now, you seem flustered, or maybe just disheartened. Your arms come to cross over your bare chest, as if to hide yourself.

“You don’t want to touch me anymore,” You say dryly. 

It’s not a question so much as it is a statement. Either way, he shakes his head. Rubbing a tired hand over his face, he mumbles, “Maybe you should go.”

You clamp your mouth shut. “You’re not serious, Jungkook.”

He still doesn’t dare to meet your gaze, his jaw set hard in place. 

“You’re kicking me out? Now? Now?�� 

“I’m not. I’m just━ Not in the mood tonight.”

“What a liar,” You gasp. “I had your stupid boner poking my ass the entire time we were at the club, and you sure as hell spent the better part of the night fucking me.”

He can’t quite tell if you’re mad. Your tone dances a fine line between incredulousness and amusement, though he assumes it all boils down to disappointment in the end anyway. You refuse to move, though, pushing yourself onto your knees beside him.

“Tell me the truth, Jungkook,” You plead carefully. “Something’s wrong. Has been for a while, and I want to know what it is.”

He takes a deep breath and finally meets your stare and, god, you look irresistible. Your lips are bruised red from him biting and sucking at them, and your exposed chest is too tempting, beckoning him to touch you. His mind is a whirlwind of emotions ━ plus, he’s just a little bit tipsy, and so he blames it on that for caving into you so easily.

He grimaces. “I’m jealous, all right?” 

You don’t respond at first, and he decides he wants to curl up into a hole and die. Then, you snort, which isn’t exactly the sort of reaction he was expecting to hear from you, and suddenly you don’t seem so angry at him anymore. “I knew that. Was wondering when you’d tell me, though.”

“You what?”

“Well, it’s not that hard to see. You’re always giving Namjoon and Taehyung death glares when I’m around.”

“I didn’t think I was that obvious.” He says this sheepishly, and at least you giggle at him. “I just━ I’m selfish. I want you to myself.”

“I’m not a thing to have,” You retort.

“I know,” he says, and then groans the words again. “Fuck, I know. I’m sorry. I know you’re not a thing to have, and you’re not mine to have but, god, I hate it that they know everything about what it feels like to be with you.”

Gently, he grabs at your waist, tugging you onto his lap, rough hands spreading your thighs to sit perfectly on him once more. Then, with his hands planted on your hips, does he guide you back and forth on him slowly. He reaches out to brush his fingers along your bare arms, then across your collarbones, and down to your breasts. He leans down as if to kiss the valley between them, but his mouth never really does meet your skin; instead, his lips graze faintly against you.

“That they know your body.” He brushes his nose against your chest as he lifts his head. His mouth ghosts across your breasts, almost catching your nipples in his mouth, his breath warm and tingly against the sensitive flesh, just to tease you. His hand follows his lips, grasping firmly at the underside of your breast, his thumb flicking over the perked bud. “Have touched it where I’ve touched it.”

Your own hands flail out to grasp at his shoulders, your breath hitching in your throat. “Why? Why do you hate it so much? That’s all I want to know.”

“Because they don’t even know how lucky they are,” he mutters. “Because you probably do all sorts of things for them and they just think you’re another groupie. Because they aren’t in love with you.”

“You’re in love with me?” Your face is hot now, your body trembling. His hands are still on your chest when he starts kissing your throat. 

“Yeah. I am.”

“What if I told you I’m in love with you too?”

“Well, you are fucking my band mates. I think that makes things a tad bit complicated.”

“You’re such an idiot.” You’re certain if he wasn’t making you feel like heaven in that moment, you would have snapped the words. Instead, you’re already shamelessly grinding your hips against his even without his guidance. “I called it off with them a while ago, actually. They were okay with it, too. Said they felt something was different. You’re the only one in my life, Jungkook.”

Jungkook stops suddenly. He pulls his head back to gawk at you and is greeted to your hooded eyes watching him. “You━ What? What about this morning when you said Namjoon wanted to see you?”

“I lied,” You admit timidly. 

“And when you were in his room━”

“We never did anything,” You promise. “I just wanted to see a reaction from you. Honestly, so did Taehyung and Namjoon. I mean, Namjoon purposely told me to come to his room to see if you’d be jealous. And I think I went along with it because I really just want to know that when you ask me to stay with you, in your bed, do you really mean it? I just…” You trail off, biting at your lower lip, asking him apprehensively, “What about you and that Mina girl?”

“I haven’t seen her or talked to her in months,” he says earnestly.

“Of course not.” You say this in a breathless laughing manner, as if it’s just now dawning on you. Then, you reach up to cradle his head in your hands, grasping at either side of his face. When you speak next, your voice is an ardent whisper. “I want to be with you, Kook. Like really, really be with you. I didn’t know how to tell you because we were so used to just having sex and nothing more and I figured if that’s all I could get with you, then I’d learn to live with it even if it’d kill me to hear you hooking up with other girls.”

Jungkook blinks. He takes a moment to comprehend what’s happening, but then he’s feeling that tension in his chest loosen and he’s just so relieved. 

“There’s only you,” he says. “Has been for a while.”

You smile, so big and soft and pretty, and he kisses you just to bask in the moment. Suddenly, he’s just overwhelmed with love for you and almost doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

“Maybe I should get you jealous more often,” You muse pensively. “It’s kinda hot.”

“It’s mean,” he pouts. Then, his demeanour changes and he’s smirking wolfishly. “Besides, they can’t fuck you like I can, can they?”

“N-No,” You croak feebly. “It’s always been you, Jungkook. Even with them. I’d never tell them but… you’re all I could think about even when I was with them. Imagining you touching me instead of them. Imagining it was you when they laid with me.”

This seems to grab his attention, having him groaning into your neck. “What’d I say? Gonna be the death of me.”

You shiver at the sound of his hoarse voice. You whisper aloud, “The feeling is mutual.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been so stupid lately,” he says. “Let me make it up to you. Do you want that, baby girl? But first you gotta show me you mean it. That you’re mine.”

As he tongues a pattern against your throat, you muster a nod. You wonder if it’s obvious how badly you want him in that moment, with the way your hips continue to grind against his. 

“I want you to fuck yourself on my thigh,” he murmurs against you. “Can you do that for me?”

The thought entices you and has you scrambling to nod your head again. His large hands come to grab at your ass, shifting you until you’re seated on one of his legs. Your eyes never stray from his as you start to grind against his thigh, the rough material of his sweatpants rubbing at your core. Slow and steady, he guides you back and forth, watching as your pretty mouth pops open into a silent gasp.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he coos. “God, you look so pretty. And you’re all mine. Touch yourself for me.”

“Where?” You ask breathlessly.

“All over. Anywhere you want me.”

You whimper at the thought, imagining the feeling of his rough hands on your body. You start at your chest, grasping at your own breasts, squeezing at your perked nipples. You pinch them until they’re hard under your fingertips, kneading the soft flesh of your breasts with your palm as you try to picture Jungkook doing the same. Then, you slide one hand down the front of your stomach, past your navel. He watches as you dip lower and lower before finally reaching between your legs, fingers rubbing small circles against your clit. The mingling feelings of you rutting your hips against his thigh and the way you touch yourself under his burning stare has you writhing on his lap within seconds. 

“Oh, Jungkook━” Your eyes clamp shut, brows knitting in concentration. “Wanna feel you so bad━”

“Uh uh,” he tuts at once. Grabbing at your chin, he yanks your head back up in his direction and taps his thumb against your jaw. “Keep your eyes on me. I want to see how I make you feel.”

“But it feels so good,” You whine. Still, you listen, prying your eyes open just slightly enough to meet his stare again. Now, you’ve started to grind a little harder on him, rubbing at your heat a little faster. “Please, Jungkook━”

“Cum for me first,” he coos, his tone gentle despite his obvious demands. “Then I’ll do whatever you want. You can do that for me, right?”

You muster a nod, eyes threatening to flutter shut again but you refrain. He moves one of his arms to wrap around your waist, his large hard encompassing almost all of your back as he pushes you closer to him and the action alone is enough to make you hum with delight. 

“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” he says. “The things they could never do for you.”

He doesn’t say Taehyung’s or Namjoon’s names for you to understand and, truthfully, you’re glad he doesn’t. Your mind is much too focused on Jungkook to care about anyone else.

“I want you━” You cry out suddenly, biting at your lip. “I want you to touch me, anywhere. I want you to use me, and make me yours. I want you in me. I just need your dick, Jungkook, please. You always make me feel so good. Please, please touch me━”

His jaw sets hard in place as he continues to watch you, fingers itching to please you however which way you want, but he waits. He knows you’re close to your high when you start whimpering and moaning his name, your hand falling from your chest as your other hand rubs harder at your clit the faster you ride his thigh. He flexes his muscle beneath your core, and the simple action is enough to have your head spinning. As you reach your high, his hand that is still wrapped around your chin slides upward and his two forefingers poke into your mouth. Instantly, you’re sucking against them, tongue laving at his digits desperately as you imagine his cock in your mouth, in your cunt, stretching you wide.

“God, you’re such a good girl,” he grunts. “Keep your eyes on me.”

As you unravel in his arms, body twitching into his chest, his arm tightens its hold around your back and envelopes you in his warmth so much to the point where it feels as if you begin to melt against him. You grab at his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper into your mouth until you almost gag, muffled moans meeting his ear as you climax. When you’re spent, your pace on his thigh slows to a steady occasional gyrating of your hips as you suck and lav at his fingertips.

“That’s it, baby girl,” Jungkook hums, his free hand stroking your back as you calm your nerves. When you’ve regained most of your wit, you pop Jungkook’s fingers from your mouth and he takes the liberty of guiding his palm down your chin to your throat to your breasts. “You’re doing so well for me. Bet you never listened as well to them as you do with me. Will you get on your hands and knees for me?”  

You scramble to obey, crawling off his lap and onto all fours on the bed. You crane your neck to watch as he gets to his knees behind you, shoving the material of his sweatpants down to his knees in haste. He’s already impossibly hard, grasped in his knuckles, precum leaking from the head of his dick. He wastes no time in pushing himself into you, and though he’s stretched you wide hours ago, the same feeling of him slipping in snug to your heat does wonders on your body still. 

“Mm, Jungkook!” You cry out as he buries himself balls deep into you, coaxed so easily by your slick arousal. He sputters at the sensation, palms pawing at your navel as he yanks you further down his cock. “F-Fuck━ You feel so good━”

“Show me,” he gasps, pulling his hips out once and rutting into you so vigorously you feel it shudder throughout your whole body. Then, he’s thrusting into you at a rhythmic fast pace that has you clenching so tight around him, his head spins some more. “Let me hear you. I wanna see how I make you feel. Let me see how you belong to me.”

He tugs at your elbows, yanking you up off the bed, and you clumsily follow suit, pressing your back flushed against his chest. 

“I’m all yours, Jungkook,” You whine. “I want you to wreck me so bad. Only you know how to wreck me so bad.”

“Yeah?” he taunts. “Only me? Gonna prove it?”

“Please, Jungkook━ Harder, please━ I’ll do anything you want!”

He quickens his pace and slams his hips up into yours harshly. It has you moaning with delight, nearly slipping from his grasp, but he holds you tighter in place. He reaches round to grab at your chin again, twisting your head in a careful yet prompt manner so that you’re looking over your shoulder at him with your flustered gawking expression.

“Open up.” He taps at your mouth and you do as you’re told. Almost instantly, he pulls your chin closer until your mouth is hovering over his, and spits. It’s a wordless command and gesture, as if to further prompt you to prove your point. You welcome it entirely, swallowing his own saliva completely. What doesn’t make it into your mouth, dribbles down your chin and onto your throat. Then you’re chasing his mouth, hearing him hum approvingly, “That’s it, baby.”

You almost miss his lips the first time from the way he’s being so feral now as his hips continue to slam against yours. You’re fortunate when he guides your chin, still pinched between his fingers, in a much too tender manner for the crude moment that has your heart swooning despite all the hysteria. A hot open-mouthed kiss which is still entirely sloppy as your tongues ravish mid-air, and his teeth nip and suck on your lower lip any chance he can get. 

“Gonna tell them how well I fuck you?” he asks breathlessly. You bite at his lip this time, tugging at it hard. “Let them know you’re all mine? Fuck━”

“Mhm!” You rasp. “Oh, Jungkook━”

By now, his pace is relentless. You threaten to ricochet from his grip with each rut of his hips, knees wobbling beneath you. He hand falls from your chin finally to grab at your breasts, replacing your earlier efforts, pinching at your nipples, squeeze at your soft flesh. He lavs wet kisses along your jawline, your neck, and shoulder. Your own head leans back onto his shoulder, a hand reaching out to grasp at his hair. Your fingers first scratch at the shaved sides, then thread through his hair, yanking at it tightly enough to have him grunting in delight.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna━” You whimper. “I’m gonna━”

But you don’t finish your thought. It doesn’t matter anyway. Jungkook already knows you’re close to your high with the way you start to clench around him. You pull even tighter at his hair, a pleasant burn evoking a hiss from his throat. His hips move even faster than before, desperate to try and carry you to your high. So riddled from your first orgasm not long ago and the one before that, you’re quick to crumble beneath him once more. Twisting and turning, you cry out his name in a repeated mantra, like music to his ears. When the scorching heat between your thighs and blinding your eyes subsides enough for you to be somewhat coherent again, you meekly find your voice.

“Tell me I’m yours,” You beg despairingly, voice barely a ragged panting whisper. The aftershock of your orgasm still shakes through your body that the way you’re clutching at his hair now is only so that you can still have some sort of hold on reality still. “Please, please. Tell me. I wanna be yours so bad. You already have me, just wanna hear it from you. Tell me you want me as much as I want you. Please, Jungkook━”

A nerve flutters in Jungkook’s heart. And his dick. He marvels momentarily at the idea of how he wants to continue to wreck you and simultaneously love you all over and grows impatient. Without warning, and with much difficulty, he pulls out of you. Before you can register what’s happening or miss the warmth of his cock in your heat, he pushes you onto the bed and flips you around so that you’re on your back. Then, hovering over you close enough so that he can hook one of your legs over his shoulder, he pushes himself back into you. 

“You’re all I want,” he says, smoothing his mouth over yours once more. He moans against your lips, then rests his forehead against yours as he squeezes his eyes shut. “God, I’m so fucking in love with you. You make it so hard to think sometimes. Everything about you drives me wild.”

His pace isn’t as harsh as before, though he’s careless as he abandons all form in an attempt to ride out your high and reach his own. Each thrust he makes jolts you back and forth on the bed, the sensitivity between your thighs a mild burn that starts to crescendo as you gasp each time his cock slides back into you. You reach out tiredly to grab at his face with soft motions despite not bothering to move him from where he still rests with his forehead. One large palm of his comes to grasp at your side, pushing you further into the mattress as he hammers into you. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum━” He moans. “Gonna let me fill you up, baby? Gonna let me make your cunt mine?”

“Yes, please,” You rasp. “Wanna feel it so bad.”

It’s different this time despite knowing the sensation well enough from all those times before. Every event since then has been a build up to this, and when he finally releases into you, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. The last few sluggish ruts of his hips make the both of you whimper and whine, mewling with delight the longer he cums in your heat. 

Then, he slumps against your chest and the room falls silent once more safe for the sound of your mingled panting. He burrows his face into the crook of your neck and your fingers rake through his sweaty hair in a soothing manner until that too ceases after a few silent moments. 

“Not falling asleep on me now, are you?” he asks after the thrill of both your highs have subsided. He lifts his head to look at you and finds that you are, in fact, beginning to doze off. 

“No,” You lie. You pry one eye open to look at him as you bite back a sheepish snicker. He pulls out of you at long last, and the lack of warmth has you immediately protesting. You reach out  blindly for him before he can move too far. “Come back here. I want to cuddle you.” Then, letting your surroundings register once more, you realize suddenly that music has still been playing all this time. Most specifically, Jungkook’s solo which has been left on a loop. You meet his curious gaze in the dark and deadpan, “Did you seriously just fuck me to your song?”

“It’s not fucking when we were making love,” he wriggles his brows suggestively. You wonder how he’s always so quick to go from one extreme to the other. Whereas five minutes ago, you wanted nothing more than to have him demolish you with his dick, now he’s just his usual lovable idiotic self that you want to kiss all over. He’s not wrong though, you discern. The song isn’t a bad one either, and the thought of him having sex with you to his own music is undescriably hot anyway. 

“You can’t say you were making love to me when you just took me raw.” Amongst other things, you think to yourself, but you’re certain he’s well aware of that. His snickers warm your heart to no end and you can’t help yourself when you lean forward to kiss him. 

“I can and I will because I love you,” he says proudly. Then, as if tasting the words on his tongue and favouring the sound of it, hums more pensively again, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jungkook.”

And this time he knows you mean it because, in the morning, when you both wake up feeling sore and marked all over by one another (so that Namjoon and Taehyung can know), you’re still curled up into Jungkook’s chest. You’re half asleep, your nose nuzzling against the crook of his neck and making him smile. You’re only roused awake by the feather-light strokes his fingers make as they rub small circles into your back.

“Stay with me?” Jungkook asks this hopefully, of course, but he already knows the answer. This time, he even knows it’ll be different. 

He sees your sleepy smile widen when he kisses your temple sweetly, and decides quickly that he likes this, right there and now, as it is, and especially when he hears you whisper finally, “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[simpforhoon]

just you. (p.js) *ೃ༄

pairing: soft dom! jay × female reader

genre: smut, fluff, soulmate au! kind of angsty it has a happy ending I swear (praise, making out, protected sex, oral (f-receiving)).

summary: in a world where everyone gets the name of their soulmate tattooed on their wrists when they turn 18, finding out your best friend is your soulmate was not how you planned your 18th birthday to go. now, what’s so bad about that you might ask? you see, jay despises the thought of soulmates. but maybe he doesn’t despise them so much when it comes to you.

please note, this work is purely that of fiction. and not meant to represent what the enhypen members are like in real life.

A/N: guys no why am I so soft,, anyway I’ve been wanting to write this for a while now, so I hope you enjoy!! and I'm reposting this now, as this didnt get a lot of notes on my old account cause of all the reporting and stuff!

word count: 3.4k

warnings: mentions of heartbreak, crying, mentions of food.

1 week ago

you bit your nails as you paced up and down your room, a nervous habit you’d picked up in your junior year of high school whilst dealing with the tremendous stress and pressure school put on you. well lucky for you, you had graduated now and your 18th birthday was just around the corner. specifically, exactly a week from now.

your best friend jay sat on your bed staring at you with amusement written all over his face as he quietly observed you, before moving up to stop you and pull your hands away from your face. “you’re going to wear yourself out” he mumbled softly, pulling you to sit next to him and rubbing your shoulder in a comforting manner.

“I know I know, I’m just nervous, what if they’re all the way on the other side of the world? or even worse, what if they’re someone I know??” the panicked expression on your face was seemingly too much for jay to handle as before you knew it, he had almost rolled off your bed, laughing his ass off at you.

you see, your “dearest” best friend jay never believed in soulmates. he himself never actually got a name on his wrist, a sign that his soulmate had not reached the age to get theirs. to say he was ecstatic would be an understatement as he was at a party that very night, hooking up with a random girl before going over to your house the next morning with a massive hangover and a sullen expression.

it hurt you to see him that way, hooking up with random people, praying that he wouldnt run into his soulmate. and it hurt even more when you thought of how his soulmate was probably so excited to meet him even if they didn’t know him yet.

if only you knew where you would be a week later, wishing it was you who never met him.

present day

the time on your phone read 11:57, and jay had shown up to your house at exactly 11:30, punctual as always, giving up his usual saturday night parties to spend the night before your special day with you instead. he held your hand in his, one thumb running up and down the expanse of your knuckles soothingly, the only thing grounding you in the tense moments before what was basically the biggest moment of your life. your eyes never met his once, only flickering from the clock to your wrist every few seconds, almost as if it would appear before time if you stared long enough.

12:00 a.m.

it was almost as if everything stopped in that moment as the words appeared on your skin. the crickets stopped chirping, that one car alarm outsode your house stopped beeping and both you and Jay stopped breathing, even if it was just for a few seconds. one by one, letter by letter, black ink slowly trailed up the soft skin on your clean wrist, marking your skin for the rest of eternity. you watched with bated breath as tbe letters curved their way into your skin, into your soul.

“P-A-R-K” looks like your soulmate would have the same last name as your best friend. “J-O-N-” that was when the realisation of what was about to happen dawned upon you. “no, no, no, no” was all you could think. “this wasn’t supposed to happen”

meeting jay’s eyes for a split second, you could see the shock on his face, the same shock you knew was written all over your face at that very moment. yanking your hand out of his warmer one, you stared at the 2 words displayed on your wrist. “park jongseong” you whispered as a one lone tear ran down your cheek, falling to you chin before disappearing into the soft material of your sweater.

this prompted jay to push up his own sleeve, the words that seem to have appeared on his wrist confirmed what you both already knew by that point. jay park, your best friend since you were 5, your rock, your everything, was your soulmate. if the situation were anything but this, you would have been jumping for joy, ecstatic that your soulmate was the man you’d grown up with your whole life. but unfortunately, that was not the case.

“_______” he whispered, voice hoarse as he held your hand in his again. gripping it tightly this time so you wouldn’t be able to let go this time. not that you wanted to anyway. “jay” you whispered back, attempting to smile at him, despite the tears that were threatening to overflow at any moment. “I-I need time to think” he said, so softly, his eyes full of nothing but remorse. “I understand jay, take your time, don’t rush okay?” you replied, squeezing his hand in reassurance. he wistfully smiled at you one last time as he pushed himself off your bed and walked out of your bedroom, closing the door with a small ‘click’, leaving you alone in the darkness of your room, mind racing and wondering what were you were going to do with this newfound information.

you fell asleep after much tossing and turning, your mind full of nothing but jay and his name that was now tattooed into the inside of your wrist. you were woken up by the bright smile of your parents, you mother holding a plate of pancakes and wishing you a happy birthday. the sight alone was enough to make you burst into tears as you wrapped your arms around her, seeking her familiar scent and comfort after the rough night you had. your parents seemed shocked, but did not press you to open up, wrapping their arms around you as they attempted to comfort you.

your mom was no foolish woman, as she seems to have caught on to what was bothering you on your special day. “its about your soulmate isn’t it?” she asked as she placed a glass of your favourite chocolate smoothie in front of you, wiping her hands on her apron. you looked up at her, disbelief written all over your face as she chuckled at you. “how did you know?” you asked as she smiled slyly at you. “I have my ways, and besides, I’m your mother” she replied with a wink. you groaned, dramatically resting your head on the counter as she laughed and gave in. “I saw jay walk out of your room last night with tears streaming down his face, and considering you woke up crying too, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what went down there”.

“you should talk it out with him sweetie, he’s not just your soulmate, he’s your best friend. despite how he feels about this whole fate thing, I’m sure the both of you will be okay.” her words reassured you as you grabbed your backpack, and walked through your front door. not even 2 minutes later you heard the biggest scream and you were tackled into a hug. giggling, you wrapped your arms around the taller boy as he squeezed you tightly. “happy birthday ______!” he said as he let go of you and continued your walk to school. “thanks sunoo” you said, smiling at the younger boy who had the biggest grin on his face.

“soooooo” he began, looking at you with an expectant expression on his face. you pursed your lips, already predicting the question that was due to escape his mouth any second from now. “jay” you said, cutting him off before he could even open his mouth. “JAY?!?!!?” he said, a little too loudly, mouth agape as he processed the information. you shrugged as he linked his arm with yours, understanding that you didnt want to talk about it.

luckily, no one pressed you about your soulmate for the rest of the day, warded off by sunoo’s glare the moment they looked like they were going to ask. you sat next to jay in all your classes, the atmosphere tense and awkward between the two of you. everyone seemed to have figured our what happened by that alone, your normally boisterous voices muted and soft. you went out after school with sunoo and riki, your mood heightened by the laughs and jokes of the two bickering boys.

when you got home, the house was eerily quiet, your parents nowhere in sight, all the lights turned off save the one in your living room. and there on the sleek grey sofa sat Jay, looking down at his hands as he anxiously played around with the rings he always wore. your footsteps alerted him of your presence, as he shot up off your sofa to greet you with a crooked smile on his face, black hair sticking up in every direction.

you smiled at him, already preparing yourself for the worst, as he walked towards you. “your parents have gone out, they handed me the keys and told me to come and talk to you if I wanted, and-” he cut himself off in the middle of his sentence, taking a deep breath and holding your hand. here goes nothing he thought. “I want to try. this whole soulmate thing I mean. maybe i wouldnt be this way if it was anyone else, but it’s you, my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you.” he mumbled out the last part, but it was still clear enough for you to hear. you couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face at his words, his own face breaking out into a grin at your expression. you reached up on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around his neck as his hands went around your waist.

he buried his face in your hair, your soft vanilla scent calming his racing heart, and that was when he realised how much you really meant to him. he loved when you would always being him snacks after soccer practice, he loved when you let him lay his head on your lap and you ran your hands through his hair, he loved seeing the expressions you made when you ate his food, he loved you.

“I made something for you” he said, pulling away from your embrace, leading you to your kitchen and making you sit down on the counter. he grabbed a plate of your favourite pasta and a fork before lifting up a mouthful and holding it out to feed it to you. you smiled, wrapping your lips around the fork as the flavours exploded in your mouth. “oh my gosh, this is good, you’ve really outdone yourself.” he smiled at the complement before pressing a kiss to your cheek and muttering a little “happy birthday love”, leaving your face feeling hot and an uncontrollable smile on your face.

the rest of the evening went by in hin feeding you food and taking a few notes of it himself, lots of little cheek kisses, before the two of you settled down on the couch to watch a movie. it seemed like jay had gotten over his awkwardness as he pulled you to sit between his legs the moment the movie started. you looked back at him in shock, wondering when he got so bold before he pressed a kiss to your lips and told you to focus on the screen.

it might not have been the perfect first kiss, but it was with jay and that was enough. he played with your hair throughout the movie, and moved it aside at one point, pressing little kisses along the expanse of your neck. it was when he landed his lips on one particular spot that you let out a little noise, one you never even knew you could make that made him sit up a little straighter.

it was almost as if a switch flipped within him as he tightened his grip around your waist, one hand slipping up your hoodie to caress the skin near your waist. “I didn’t know you could make such pretty noises baby” he whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “well i didn’t know i could either” you whispered back, the realisation of what was about to happen making your body feel like it was on fire.

“are you sure you want this? we don’t have to do anything you dont want to sweetheart” he said, pulling away with a kiss to your cheek. you shifted so that you were facing him, legs wrapped around his waist and you reached your hands up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m sure jay, theres no one I’d rather do this with than you.” that was all the affirmation he needed, as within seconds you were being dragged to your bedroom by an overexcited jay.

he pressed you up against your room door, hands coming up to lift your thighs and wrap them around his waist, your core meeting his very obvious bulge. taking advantage of the gasp that left you, he allowed his tongue to skip into your mouth, taking control of every aspect of the kiss. pulling away, he brought you to your bed, gently letting you down onto the mattress, and reaching up to pull your hoodie off you.

“so beautiful” he whispered as he reached behind you to pull your bra off, before lifting his own arms to pull his own shirt off, leaving his body on display for you. just for you. he reached down to tug one of your nipples into his mouth, gently sucking and wrapping his tongue around the sensitive bud, his actions leaving your mouth open in a silent moan.

within minutes, both of you were left completely naked as jay continued to trail his lips down your body, pressing little kisses to your inner thigh before his mouth finally met your core, the smallest motion of his lips leaving you breathless and squirming. “stay still sweetheart, good girls don’t move around so much”. his words sent vibrations spreading throughout your body, not doing anything to help with the heat that was coursing through your veins.

his tongue delved in and out of your dripping hole, one of his hands rubbing your clit while the other held your legs open for him. “jay- i- I’m gonna-” but he was gone the moment the words fell from your mouth. and he was a sight to see. your juices mixed with his, drool and spit dripped down his chin, as he ran his tongue over his lips with a smirk on his face.

“oh so the baby wants to cum? don’t worry love, I’m going to make you feel so good”. he reached into his jacket and pulled out a condom before rolling it on and lining himself I with your entrance. he grasped your chin gently, pulling you up to look at him and planting a loving kiss on your lips. “I love you so much sweetheart, so so much” he whispered, pulling away from your lips. “I love you too jay” you said back, watching as he smiled once, before intertwining your hands and then, pushing himself into you.

nothing had ever felt as good in that moment as he gently, softly pushed himself inside. the feeling was euphoric, having your soulmate inside you in such an intimate manner. your bodies moulding together perfectly, bursts of colour lighting up the back of your eyelids as your eyes closed at the feeling of him in you. he began thrusting in and out of you slowly, not wanting to hurt you. but at your signal, he began moving faster, groans and moans escaping both your lips, finding pleasure and love in each other.

it didn’t take long for you to reach your high at all, his length hitting you in all the right places, leading you to ride out your high much faster than you expected, jay following soon after. he finished inside the condom, reaching out to pull it off and throw it away, before walking to your bathroom and grabbing a wet cloth to clean you up with.

he was greeted with the sight of your tired smile as he returned, gently cleaning you before tossing the rag and gathering you up in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “does this mean you’re mine now?” he asked, reaching down to bury his head in your hair, his hands absent-mindedly tracing shapes and figures on your bare shoulder. “it does if it means you’re mine too”. he smiled at your response, pulling the blanket over the two of you as you drifted off to sleep in the arms of the one person who would stay with you forever.

thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed and I hope you drank enough water today! ♡♡♡

[hopelesshawks]

Official Accounts Part 35 (Bakugo Route)- Whole Again 18+ NSFW Version

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

It’s been made pretty clear throughout the fic but just to make it even more so the characters are AGED UP. They’re about 24 when this fic happens. This one isn’t for minors but don’t worry there’s a SFW version for y’all here so you can still enjoy the story. I promise you’re not missing out on much

Warnings for unprotected sex, fingering, dom/sub themes, dirty talk, and mention of reader having a vagina

Masterlist

You have willingly fallen off many a building since you first began the ‘think fast’ tradition. First was the UA dorms and since then you’ve also fallen off every apartment building you’ve lived in at least once. All of this to say that you know what it’s like to fall and you know what senses and feelings you like to focus on when you’re in free fall. Typically if you’re falling someplace new you’ll stare at the surrounding buildings as they streak past. More familiar places you typically just close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of falling.

Falling with Katsuki is different.

You pay no mind to the buildings rushing past the two of you. You dare not close your eyes. Instead you focus on the feelings of his warm arms wrapped around you as you look down into beautiful crimson eyes. The eyes of one of your best friends. The eyes of the first person to break your heart. The eyes of your first love. “Hold on tight,” he tells you with a soft smirk. You wrap your arms tightly around his neck and then wrap your legs around his waist as well. He brings one hand to caress your cheek briefly, his look so incredibly soft, before dropping both his hands behind him to send the both of you flying back upwards. He helps you slide around so you’re piggybacked on him with an ease developed from years of doing this ritual. Then he starts directing the two of you further and further away from the venue. “Where are you taking me explosion boy?” you ask in his ear. “It’s a surprise dumbass, just wait and see,” he insists. Eventually you leave the downtown area and move further out to the suburbs and soon enough you start to recognize some of the streets. Bakugo touches down at a public park with an old playset only a few minutes walk from UA’s campus. He carefully lets you back down onto the ground as you take in the space around you. “You brought me to our park,” you say in wonder as you move towards the rusty swingset nearby. “I did,” Bakugo confirms with a smile as each of you takes a seat on one of the swings.

You and Bakugo used to sneak off campus to come here on a regular basis. There’s a dent in the jungle gym where you’d lashed out at it with your quirk one day when one of your classmates had pissed you off. There’s a hole in one of the tunnels that Bakugo had created after a particularly contentious fight with Midoriya. If you looked long enough you’d probably even find where you and Katsuki had carved your initials the night of graduation. The park was filled with memories of the two of you together and this is your first time back since the two of you had broken up. “We used to stay out here for hours when we could sneak away,” you recall wistfully. “Those were some of my favorite memories from the UA days,” Bakugo admits. “Really?” “Obviously,” Bakugo scoffs but then he stops, thinking for a moment. You watch him curiously as he takes a deep breath, staring determinedly ahead as he continues in a softer tone “it’s the place I promised you forever.”

You know exactly what night he’s referring to. It was about a week before graduation and the reality of high school being over and your careers beginning was hitting Katsuki hard, so the two of you had decided to escape out to the park. You both sat on the swings then just like you are now and you looked at the stars and talked about the future. “I remember. You said there was no future you imagined for yourself without me in it,” you admit quietly. “I meant it,” he replies. “I know.” “I still mean it.” “What?” “I said what I said.” The two of you briefly lapse back into silence as you mull over his words. You gently swing a little as you gather your thoughts. “I’m so-“ “Don’t apologize dumbass you did the right thing. Plus I didn’t bring you here to guilt trip you about the past,” Bakugo interrupts you. “Why did you bring me here?” you ask curiously. “Well... This is where I confessed to you the first time and that seemed to go well. Guess I was hoping it would give me good luck again.” “Katsuki, I... What exactly are you saying?” you ask breathlessly. “I love you, (y/n). I never stopped loving you,” Bakugo finally confesses, dragging his eyes away from the ground so he can look you in yours as he says it. “Even after all this time?” you ask. “Especially after all this time.” “I love you too Katsuki,” you reply before you lean across the short distance between the two swings to press your lips to his.

Katsuki’s reaction is immediate, one of his hands moving to caress your face as he deepens the kiss, pouring every unspoken ‘I love you’ from the past 5 years into it. God he’s missed this. All this time he’s been resigned to never feeling your lips on his again, never feeling your love again, and yet here he is feeling it all in the very spot where it first began. He pulls away slightly to mumble “come here,” against your lips, and you happily let him tug you towards him and into his lap. Your arms wrap around each other as he presses a kiss to each of your cheeks and the tip of your nose before returning to your lips. With each peck Bakugo feels a sweet relief akin to diving into cold water on the hottest day of the year. He had forgotten what it was like to not be heartbroken until this very moment with you once again in his arms. For the first time in five years he is whole again.

You laugh as Katsuki scowls down at his phone. “Bakugo Hype Squad huh?” you tease which only makes him scowl harder. “They’re idiots,” he huffs. “Yes but they’re your idiots,” you reply before pressing a kiss to Bakugo’s furrowed brow. His face softens almost immediately as he redirects his attention back to you, pocketing his phone. “I’m glad you and Hawks are becoming friends,” you admit. “He’s not half bad I guess,” Bakugo scoffs. “That’s practically a raving review coming from you.” “Whatever.” “Wait oh my god,” you gasp as realization dawns on you. “Is that what those tweets were about yesterday? Did you and Hawks plan this together? That’s adorable Katsuki,” you laugh and the scowl returns to his face immediately. “I’m not cute dumbass,” he grouses, hands tightening minutely around your waist. “I hate to break it to you Katsuki but you are the cutest,” you laugh.

One moment you’re laughing, sitting in Katsuki’s lap, and the next you’re on your back, wood chips digging into your skin, breath knocked out of you with him pinning you to the ground. Before you’ve even fully adjusted to the sudden shift Bakugo is leaning down to growl in your ear “I said I’m not cute.” A shiver shoots down your spine and you know he can tell because when he pulls back his crimson eyes are burning with aggression and lust. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re speechless already Doll,” he teases, a smug smirk stretching across his face. “Awfully confident for someone who apparently needed a hype squad,” you fire back. “You know that teasing me is a dangerous game (y/n),” he warns as he leans down closer to you. His hips get close enough to yours that you can feel where he’s starting to harden in his suit pants. His mouth drops down to press kisses to the column of your throat but you try not to let it distract you too much. That would mean he wins. “Really now?” you ask as you roll your hips up into his. He growls again, nipping at your neck in retaliation before his mouth starts traveling further. “Wait, wait, wait Kacchan we’re in a public park,” you hiss, pushing at his shoulders. “And?” he scoffs, although he does halt his progression and lean back to look at you. “And I’m not trying to get arrested for public indecency,” you reply with a roll of your eyes. “Fine, but I’m taking you back to my place.” “You fucking better.”

You’re genuinely surprised Bakugo doesn’t just blast his door open when the two of you finally get to his apartment. He’s been all over you since the park, eager to get you back to his place and alone so he can do with you as he pleases. He’s waited a long time for this and he wants to enjoy every moment of it. As soon as you’re through the door he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder. “Katsuki!” you squeal in protest but you still can’t help but giggle as he moves to the bedroom with purpose. Once he gets there he quickly drops you onto the bed, but before you can complain about the rough handling he’s on top of you again and kissing you senseless. His hips grind mercilessly down into yours and you gasp into his mouth as you feel his urgent erection. “Someone’s eager,” you tease. “I’ve been waiting for this. Waiting for you,” he replies as his lips pepper kisses all over your face and his hands find the zipper of your dress. Despite his prior urgency, he removes your dress as if unwrapping a precious gift, cherishing each and every moment. You return the favor as you strip him out of his suit. It’s almost surreal being like this again. Skin sliding against skin as the two of you slowly peel away the layers separating you.

Once the both of you are finally nude Bakugo stops for a moment and leans back so he can look at you more fully. “You are so fucking beautiful, you know that?” he breathes out like a prayer. You blink up at him, at a loss for how to respond in the face of his awe and adoration, before settling on a simple “I love you Bakugo Katsuki.” “I love you too (l/n) (y/n),” he replies before diving back in to press another bruising kiss to your lips. His lust seems to reignite as his hands skim across your sides, luxuriating in the feeling of you beneath him. One of his hands makes its way to your dripping sex, causing you to gasp as he trails his fingers up your labia. “God you’re so fucking wet for me already,” he says before easing a finger inside you. “So fucking tight too. You miss having me that bad doll?” he asks as he adds another finger and begins slowly pumping them in and out of you. “Yes, fuck yes I missed this Katsuki,” you moan. “How badly did you miss it?” he asks as he drags his fingers along your gspot. He still knows your body almost as well as you do and he takes full advantage of that knowledge to have you mewling on just his fingers. “So bad baby,” you moan. “You miss my fingers?” he asks. You nod and his hand immediately stills, causing you to whine in frustration, your hands gripping onto him tightly. “I need to hear you say it,” he growls right in your ear. “I-I missed your fingers. Katsuki please,” you beg. He resumes moving his fingers, even using his thumb to press circles into your clit. “What do you want baby? You gotta be specific,” he teases and you can hear the smirk in his voice but you’re too far gone to try and retaliate. “Need you inside me. Need your dick inside me,” you plead.

The moment you make the request Bakugo removes his fingers in favor of lining his throbbing cock up with your pussy. “You ready?” He asks as the tip of his dick begins to press forward. “Absolutely,” you pant and that’s all Katsuki needs to press deeper and deeper into the tight wet heat of your cunt. He takes it slowly to make sure you have time to adjust, his considerable girth stretching you open as he moves forward. As he finally bottoms out inside of you, your eyes flutter shut at the overwhelming feeling of fullness. “Open your eyes,” he commands and you immediately obey. As your eyes lock onto each other you gasp at the depths of emotion in his carmine eyes. “I’m gonna start moving now, ok?” he asks. “Ok,” you reply breathlessly. His thrusts start out slow and languid, just the smooth rolling of his hips against yours, but neither of you are satisfied with that for long. He quickly brings it up to a brutal pace and you can do nothing but cling to his shoulders and hold on for dear life as he plunges in and out of you. He angles his hips just right to have you seeing stars, unable to hold back your desperate moans and cries of his name. He drops his head to suck bruises into your neck, marking you as his again, as one of your hands tangles in his blonde hair. You can tell by the way his thrusts are growing more erratic that he’s nearing his climax so he brings one of his hands down to your clit to provide the extra stimulation you need to go hurtling towards the brink together. “Together baby. Let’s cum together,” he pants into your ear and soon enough your orgasm crashes over you like a tsunami. Your vaginal walls clench around Katsuki and between that and the beautiful noises you’re making he can’t hold back anymore. With one final thrust he spills his seed inside you, coating your inner walls with his cum as he groans out your name.

By the time both of you come down from your highs you’re both panting and out of breath. Eventually it turns into breathless laughter as what’s just happened finally sinks in. Together again. The two of you are together again. It’s a crazy, surreal, wondrous thought that fills you with a warmth you hadn’t even realized you’d been missing. The moment you’ve caught your breath enough to do so you lean up and kiss Katsuki again, unable to keep the smile from your lips as you do. “I love you,” he mumbles against your lips. “And I you. Thank you for an amazing night,” you reply. “You make it sound like it’s over.” “Is it not?” “I’ve got five years to catch up on Love. You’re not getting any sleep tonight,” Bakugo promises with a smirk and although your eyes widen in surprise at his declaration, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sleep is for the weak anyway right?

Author’s Note: THE NSFW GOT SO FAR AWAY FROM ME WOW but I love it. I know this took a minute to get to you guys but I hope it was worth the wait. ALSO I have a Ko-fi now! If you wanna support me the link is in my bio

Taglist [open]: @maltese-sparrow @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut @captaincyberqueen @ladyzayismultifandom @pixelwisp @cathy8taffy @itskindofafairything @larkspyrr @thatonegeekchick @thesleepysphinx

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Thirty) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing, murder-- everything Criminal Minds. Mentions of Dom/sub relationship.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 14765

Timeline: Season 4 Episode 18. A month after part twenty-nine.

Hotch’s hand was slowly running up and down my arm as I slept. After a few moments, he started whispering my name and I subconsciously realized that he was trying to wake me up. I groaned and rolled over onto my other side so that I was facing him. His thumb caressed my cheek lightly and I smiled against his touch. It was so early, way too early for anything but a case, but he didn’t seem to rush me awake, so I just continued to enjoy his touch and nothing else. While his hand drifted down to my arm to start gently squeezing and massaging, I leaned over and kissed his shoulder.

“I have to go out,” he whispered, still massaging my arm. I pouted and looked around his shoulder to see the clock on his nightstand. It was still the middle of the night. What the hell was he doing going out so late? I figured that if he was waking me up and seemed in a rush, it was likely due to another case, so I started to move like I was going to get ready for the day. Hotch grabbed my arm gently. “It’s not a case,” he said as though he had read my mind. “An old friend of mine called… He needs to see me; says that it’s important.”

I squinted and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “Why does he need to meet with you right now?”

Hotch shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ll tell you when I get back.” I nodded and laid back down. He kissed my forehead and tried to lean back up, but I caught the back of his head with my hand and brought him in for a kiss on the lips. “I love you. Try to fall back asleep.”

“I love you. Be safe.”

He pecked my lips before crawling off the edge of the bed to sneak out of the bedroom. I rolled back over onto my side of the bed, trying to find the darkness and peace behind my eyelids to fall asleep again, but I was already awake and worried about Hotch leaving. Of course, there was no doubt in my mind that he had a real, legitimate reason for leaving. I wasn’t the kind of person to just assume that he was cheating on me or something, because: one, he wouldn’t; two, he wouldn’t have woken me up to tell me he was leaving if he wanted to keep it a secret. But meeting an old friend so late at night and without warning seemed odd, to say the least. The fact that Hotch didn't know what it was about either put me on edge. What if he was in danger? What if he was going to get hurt and I had no idea where he was or who he was with? How was I supposed to sleep as that raced through my head?

I sat up as I heard his car backing out of the driveway, the headlights still off so that he wouldn’t disturb mine or Jack’s rooms. I brought my knees to my chest and hid my face in my palms. There was no reason to be worried about Hotch. None. Right? I was just nervous for nothing. New York still had me shaken up, still six months later. Every time he was out of my sight, I got worried that it would be the last time I would ever see him. I hated that feeling. I wanted it to end soon. I wanted to trust that Hotch was capable of just going to a friend’s house and that I didn’t need to constantly worry about every little thing he did. He was a grown man; he was going to be fine. But I still loved him, and I still worried about him. That would never change.

When the sun started to rise and my alarm went off, I checked my phone again. Hotch still hadn’t reached out. I tried not to think about it as I pushed the covers off my body and went to get dressed before waking up Jack. He was sure to have questions about where his dad was, and I honestly didn’t have any answers for him. I wished that I could look at him and tell him what was going on, but I really didn’t know. I wasn’t even sure how to lie about where his dad was, that was how out of the loop I felt. So, all I did was tell him that his dad needed to leave early for work and that we’d see him at dinner. Thankfully, Jack bought it, and he started getting ready for school.

By the time I dropped Jack off at school and made it to the office, Hotch still hadn’t called or texted. I was really starting to worry. If he wasn’t in his office, then I was going to storm into Garcia’s office and demand that she track his phone, because I wasn’t about to lose him. Not now. Not when I wasn’t there to help him.

Thankfully, though, after I passed Anderson on my way into the bullpen, I could see Hotch up in his office, finishing up a phone call. I let my shoulders fall in relief. Morgan turned in his seat to wish me a good morning, and I responded with a smile as I dropped my things off at my desk. As I walked towards Hotch’s office, I flicked the back of Morgan’s neck playfully, earning the snap of a rubber band against my elbow.

I scoffed. “I’m telling on you,” I teased, making my way up the ramp.

“Snitches get stitches!” he yelled out to me.

“Only if I get caught!” I winked. “Hey,” I walked into Hotch’s office. He looked up from his work on his desk, quickly hiding away whatever it was he had been reviewing and smiled at me. “You didn’t come home last night. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m sorry if I worried you. I was going to call, but I didn’t want to wake you up.” He pushed himself out of his chair, walked about around his desk, and caught me by the waist using his arms. “Are you okay?”

“You had me worried.” I propped myself up on my tiptoes and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I didn’t end up falling back asleep because I thought you would come back or call.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head understandingly. “I get it. Did you talk to your friend?” I asked while pushing his hair back since he hadn’t run a brush through it yet. He nodded and kissed my forehead. “Care to share with the class?”

He smirked against my skin before pulling back. “Close the door,” he ordered. I nodded, sliding out of his arms to do as I was told. Hotch closed the blinds then met me on the couch. “I went to go see my old unit chief. He’s dying, and his last wish was to speak with me.”

My eyes softened and I ran my fingers on my left hand through his hair. “You’re a good man and friend for getting up in the middle of the night like that to go see him,” I complimented with a small smile. “But why didn’t he send for you sooner?”

Hotch looked over at the door and the blinds again to make sure that no one could walk in or see us talking. Whatever he had to say, it needed to stay between the two of us, and I was alright with that. “Back when I first started working at the BAU, I worked for a man named Tom Shaunessy. He taught me everything I know about profiling and being a good unit chief. In ‘98, we got a case where the Unsub was killing random couples on the highway, and I was the lead profiler for the very first time. We tried to build a loose profile based on what we had, but his M.O. was scattered, his victimology was unpredictable, and there was never any evidence. He got himself involved with the media, though, and they titled him The Reaper. And you know how it goes after the media names them, they usually get cocky and big headed. The Reaper, he started leaving symbols or messages at his scenes in order to taunt us. He killed well over a dozen people, and we never caught him. One day, Shaunessy came in and he sent us all home. He told us that the case was over, the trail had run cold, and we needed to move onto more prevalent cases. He was my boss, so I didn’t question it, and I haven’t even thought about it once in… years…” He looked over at the door again. “Shaunessy called me last night to tell me that he made a deal with The Reaper ten years ago to make the killings stop. We would stop looking for him and he would stop killing. That was the deal between Shaunessy and The Reaper, but now the Shaunessy’s dead, the contract will become null and void once The Reaper finds out.”

“Meaning that The Reaper will start killing again,” it dawned on me as I said it.

Hotch nodded. “He passed the case onto me.”

“Aaron—” I hesitated.

If Shaunessy was half as good as Hotch cracked him up to be, then it meant that he was the best of the best— more so than Rossi or Gideon ever were. The fact that Shaunessy and the BAU couldn’t catch The Reaper ten years ago was enough cause for concern. Would Hotch have to make the same deal? Or would we be able to catch him? Either way, it wasn’t fair of Shaunessy to dump this on Hotch’s lap. I didn’t like that this had him so shaken up. Cases like this hardly ever made Hotch blink twice, but now he was sitting across from me, scared to even tell me the truth. 

“I know, I know,” he insisted. “But what choice do I have?”

“To not put yourself in the middle of this mess!”

“So, do what? Turn a blind eye and let him start killing again? Or do I get ahead of this guy and I finally catch him?”

“Yes, turn a blind eye. If it’s unsafe, then… yeah…”

“Why are you saying that?” he cocked a brow of curiosity, though his tone was more accusing. “You’d never turn down a case, especially if you knew that it was bad and important.”

I pulled my touch away from him entirely. It was a valid question, I supposed. In his shoes, I would have asked the same thing because it was so out of character for either of us to dodge or turn down a case—especially after I had basically just sent him down to Dallas on his own for a bit, even though he didn’t want to go. I had to tell him the truth. That was our deal. We didn’t keep secrets from each other because communication was of the utmost importance in our relationship. But it was starting to get tiresome to keep explaining to him that I was worried about him. That conversation always ended the same way every time. I’d start by telling him that I was still worried about him since New York, he’d counter by arguing that he was fine, and then I’d tell him that didn’t matter because I loved him and I was worried about him, and then it would end with him holding me and telling me he loved me. I’d forget about my worries for a bit, but then it would all come crashing back, and the cycle would continue. But he asked. His question was valid, and now I had to tell him the truth, unfortunately.

“If this guy got the best of Shaunessy, what’s to stop him from doing the same to you?” I asked, rather than answering first.

“I won’t take any deal, Y/N. You know that. I’m going to find this guy, and I’m going to put him away for good.”

“See how you’re saying ‘I’? Hotch, this isn’t just your case. We’re all here, and if you do this— which I don’t think you should— we’ll all help you. You can’t do this alone.”

“I have to.”

I raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“When I turn down his deal, because I know that he will make one, I can’t drag any of you into the mess. Shaunessy and I started this ten years ago; I can finish it.”

“Aaron. No.” I shook my head and stood from the couch. “I’m putting my foot down on this one. I can’t let you do this. If you think that it’s dangerous for us, then it’s dangerous for you. You’re not fucking doing it.”

“Y/N, stop it—”

“No!” I shouted a little too loud. Both of our gazes turned to the door and windows to make sure no one would come in to disrupt us. I took a moment to breathe. “Shaunessy was scared of this guy. You seem scared of this guy. I’m not doing this with you, Hotch. I’m not going to stay up every night for who knows how long while you’re off in Boston, chasing some guy who has had years to build up his thirst for blood. I’m not doing that to myself or Jack— or even the team. I can hardly sleep as it is. I worry about you constantly. If you’re going to do this, you need to have the team helping you. That’s my final offer, I swear, Aaron. So help me—”

“Fine!” he also shouted a little too loud, jumping out of his seat. “Just stop!” He walked over to me and put his hands on my face, “Stop…”

I let my eyes fall shut and I pressed my face against his chest. “I’ll always fight for you, Aaron. I made that promise to you a while ago. I’ll never stop fighting for you, but I can’t always be worried about you. Does that make sense?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” He hugged my shoulders, holding me close to his chest. “But I worry about you, too. And I don’t want you to get mixed up in a mess that I made.”

“Your messes are my messes, Aaron Hotchner. They always have been and always will be. That’s a part of loving you.”

I could feel him smiling as he kissed the top of my head. “Okay,” he gave in. “I love you.”

Since Hotch and I argued about The Reaper case, it had been a few days. JJ still didn’t have any new cases for us, but that didn’t stop Hotch from sitting in his office late at night and getting there early. He was coming home around midnight every night now, and he was leaving around five or six. Honestly, I don’t even think he was going to sleep. He was probably coming home just to make sure that Jack and I were safe, and to make sure that I was sleeping alright, and then he was leaving. I was worried, and I wasn’t really sleeping, but I feigned it all for Hotch. I was hoping that he’d get some sleep soon, or maybe he’d just spend some more time at home. Jack missed him. He was staying up as late as he could, procrastinating on his homework so that his dad could help him. Even if I tried to sit down and help him, he wouldn’t heed my advice. It was hard for him to know that his dad was in town, but he still didn’t get to see him.

On Wednesday, things still weren’t better. Our ten o’clock meeting came and went with no new cases, and all of my reports were done. Now it was a waiting game for something interesting to happen. Emily and I set up a trash can at the end of the bullpen, and what started as a paper airplane race quickly devolved into just crumpling up pieces of paper and seeing how many we could throw into the trash can from different distances. Once Morgan finished his work, he joined in, too.

“Y/N,” Hotch called calmly from his office. I looked up from my work to see what he needed, yet all he did was nod sideways towards his desk, gesturing that he needed to speak with me privately.

“Ooh, someone’s in trouble,” Morgan teased.

“Bite me,” I flicked the back of his neck again, just like I had the other day, while passing by his desk. This time, though, he didn’t have a rubber band ready to retaliate, so I made a slight run for it before he could shoot one at me. When I was at Hotch’s office, I closed the door behind me, and made my way over to his desk. He was standing, so I stayed on my feet, too. “What’s up?”

He threw a case file towards me onto his desk. “He struck last night.”

I carefully eyed him through my lashes as I grabbed the file and started looking through the first page. The Reaper. Hotch knew that this was coming, he had anticipated it ever since Shaunessy’s death a couple of days ago, but I didn’t think it would come this fast. It had to be The Reaper considering everything Hotch told me about him. He killed couples on the highway, always overkill with the female, and he left a drawing of an eye on the side of the car using the victims’ blood. This was The Reaper’s work. No one else’s. And, honestly, it terrified me. It meant that Hotch was finally being roped into something that was dangerous. We always knew that Unsubs could get to us one way or another, but this guy, whoever he was, clearly knew how to get to the BAU. He did it with Shaunessy, and now he was doing it with Hotch. I didn’t want us to become targets. But maybe that was the incentive to find him faster.

“I wanted to tell you first because I want to know if you’re still convinced that we need to do this together.”

“I am.”

“No, Y/N. I need you to look at everything in there, and then I need you to look me in the eye and tell me that this is our best move.”

I flipped through every page, taking in every detail of the case almost as fast as Reid would have. This guy wasn’t any worse than half of the cases I had worked while with the BAU, but what was terrifying about him was the control he clearly had over the feds and the media. Hotch was a stubborn man, and he wasn’t going to let The Reaper roll over him like he did with Shaunessy, but the fact that The Reaper managed to do it in the first place… that made him more dangerous than any Unsub I had ever come across. That might sound ridiculous but think about it. Most of the time, the Unsubs we went after were scared of us because they didn’t want to get caught. Even if they were dominant, cocky assholes, they were still playing a game or a dance around us to ensure that they wouldn’t get caught. But they always did. That was why we were good at our jobs. But then this guy came along, and he told Shaunessy: I’ll stop killing if you stop hunting me. And that deal sounded sweet because Shaunessy felt like he was saving lives. The Reaper had ten years to himself after making that deal. Ten years of letting his urge to kill eat him alive. Now that Shaunessy was gone, Boston was going to turn into a bloodbath, and when Hotch was inevitably going to turn down any deal thrown his way, it was surely going to make The Reaper spiral. This was only going to get worse. That was why we were scared. That was why we were terrified.

I looked up at Hotch. “We do this together.”

He stared at me for a moment, getting a read on my face while searching my eyes. I held true, showing no fear, despite the fact that it was bubbling in my stomach. I didn’t want him to become a target. I was petrified by the idea of losing him to this maniac while having just survived New York. But I couldn’t let Hotch know that. Ever. If he saw any sign of weakness, he’d pull the case from the BAU, and he’d go down to Boston to do it himself.

“Okay,” he finally gave in. “We’ll go to Boston, then.”

I silently thanked him for trusting me enough to listen to my advice. The other day, when we argued about it, I thought that he wasn’t listening, and that the first chance he’d get, he’d be gone to solve this on his own. But he got the case file, and he immediately confided in me. I was grateful for that. It went hand-in-hand with not keeping secrets from each other, another thing I was appreciating. We had grown so much as individuals, but even more as a couple over the past year and a half or so. It was a relief that he could trust me and talk to me like this. After everything we had been through, it was honestly a relief that he still kept me around.

“I’ll tell the team to meet in the boardroom,” I offered.

“There’s no time. We need to go straight to the jet.”

I nodded and turned on my heels to gather the team. “Grab your gear,” I told the bullpen as I hurried down the ramp.

“Finally!” Morgan cheered, spinning around in his chair.

“Two people are dead, Morgan. Maybe you shouldn’t cheer?”

Morgan grabbed his go-bag, threw it over his shoulder, and stood up. “Finally,” he said less enthusiastically before winking playfully.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re incorrigible.” I grabbed my go-bag. I maneuvered around Emily and Reid as we all started making our way towards the doors.

On the plane, Hotch immediately dove into what he knew about The Reaper. Everyone thought that we’d have a few minutes to settle down first, but Hotch collected everyone around the four seat table, handed out the case files Garcia had sent to the jet, and started reviewing what he knew from the initial investigation back in the 90’s. The entire time, I watched him closely. I kept up with what was saying, but I was more concerned about the fact that he looked more driven and tunnel visioned into a case than I had ever seen before. It was worrying. Hotch was a hard working man by nature, and he took each and every case as seriously as possible, leaving room for us to still be us outside of work, but he had never looked like this. As I stared at him, he didn’t glance once at me. The human body instinctually recognizes when it’s being watched, so there’s a natural, automatic need to check your surroundings when you get that feeling on the back of your neck. But Hotch didn’t look at me. He didn’t even look at the team. He was just flipping through the pages again and again. It reminded me of the time when Elle was taken hostage in Texas, and all I could focus on was rereading the case file over and over again until Hotch finally stopped me.

So, I did something unexpected.

When everyone was looking down, I reached up and put a hand over Hotch’s. He froze. After a short moment, he looked at me. For the first time on that flight, he stared into my eyes, and he smiled. I squeezed his hand gently before retreating entirely to look back down at the case. Everyone got back to work, too. They obviously saw what I did, even though I hadn’t intended for them to, so they tried to pretend like they weren’t watching.

The Reaper, according to Hotch, was all of the following: Dominant, proud, overconfident, highly intelligent, and news obsessed. Honestly, he sounded like every other Unsub. Issues arose, however, when he started losing the thrill of each kill, so he had to get more creative. He went to the police—specifically Shaunessy—and made that deal to have them stand down in exchange for his “retirement”, which gave him more power. He won back in the 90’s because he had the upper hand. Now that Shaunessy, the only man who truly knew that The Reaper had won, just died, he needed to start killing again in order to gain attention, and probably just to keep himself busy. A hiatus as long as his likely had him itching at his own skin. He was a wild psychopath on the loose with a thirst for blood, which meant that this would only get worse until we could capture him.

“There isn’t much here,” Morgan said after a few minutes. “How did you guys build this profile?”

Hotch sighed. “Technically, we didn’t. This is everything I’ve worked on over time. Back in ’98, this was my first case as lead profiler, but Shaunessy sent us home before we could get much work done. So, now we have to do it.” He closed the file in his hands. “To start, I want Y/N and Reid to come to the recent crime scene with me. Prentiss, Rossi, and Morgan, start building the profile at the precinct. JJ, we need to contain this in the media before it gets him off—”

“I’ll shut it down faster than you can say ‘Boston’,” she said with a smile.

Hotch nodded a “thank you” to her before sighing and resting his head against the side of the plane. He had been rushing to discuss the profile, but now that we had done everything we could, I could tell that he was mentally and emotionally drained. That was what he got for pushing himself too hard. Imagine what would’ve happened if he did all of this on his own.

Over the span of five years, The Reaper managed to kill twenty-one people. By the time Hotch got involved, eighteen people were already dead, and under his watch, three people died. Now that the Reaper was back, two people were already dead. This wasn’t going to end anytime soon. Hotch was already exhausted, and The Reaper had only just begun. Since Hotch knew the truth about Shaunessy’s deal, he had to be vigilant on this case, making sure that it didn’t get personal. If The Reaper found a way to get in contact with us, there was no doubt he would try to offer up a similar deal. Hotch didn’t like letting the bad guys get away. He didn’t like when they died, and he didn’t like when they got away. Therefore, there was no chance in hell Hotch was going to give into any deal. He told me that himself. What terrified me most was that Hotch’s defiance would end with The Reaper going after him… What was I supposed to do then?

When we landed in Boston, Hotch, Reid, and I took a separate vehicle from everyone else. We headed straight to the latest crime scene, as planned, while the others headed to the precinct to get settled. Technically, we weren’t on this case yet. Hotch had gotten wind of this recent crime scene, and he knew that it had to do with The Reaper, so he leapt at the chance. However, this still wasn’t our case. Rules were rules. Hotch was always a rule follower, especially when it came to jurisdiction. If we weren’t invited onto the case, then we had no right to be there. But Hotch hoped that by asking in person, there was a chance that the lead detective on the case, O’Mara, would bring us on to help.

Hotch and I were in the front seat during the drive. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught how white his knuckles were turning as he kept squeezing the life out of the steering wheel. I had never seen him so tense before. I was really worried. If this got personal for him, it was my duty to tell Rossi to pull him off the case. Right? I mean, when cases got too personal for me, Hotch immediately benched me—or at least tried. Especially since New York, there was no way in hell I was going to let Hotch cloud his judgement by making this a personal thing. If he didn’t ease up soon, I was going to talk to Rossi… Or, if it came to it, I’d call Strauss. That wouldn’t exactly make Hotch too happy, but I would do what was necessary in order to protect him. I understood suddenly how he felt about me. Fuck.

He parked the car outside of the yellow tape. “Wait here. I’ll talk to the lead detective about asking us to join the case. We know each other from the first wave of cases. If he talks to just me, he might be more inclined to invite us in.” Hotch got out of the car, leaving me and Reid in silence.

As we waited and watched Hotch head over to O’Mara, I took note of what I could see at the crime scene from a distance. The victims’ car was taped off up ahead. The media was standing around the tape, trying to get a better look at the bodies inside the car and the blood painted on the driver’s side door. There was a trail of blood on the pavement. It had been washed away somewhat by the rain, but the general outline of the blood was clear enough to indicate that one of the bodies had been dragged from the street to the car. Probably the driver.

That was all I could see from where we were, though. Without getting a closer look, I wouldn’t be able to deduce much. I couldn’t even see what the blood spatter on the car’s exterior looked like, I just knew that it was there. And like he could read my mind, Hotch looked over to the car, then waved us over. Reid and I got out, ducked under the yellow tape, then strided over to Hotch and the detective.

“Detective O’Mara, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and Agent Greenaway. The rest of my team is setting up at the precinct.” Hotch gestured to each of us respectively. I shook the detective’s hand, then watched as he tried to shake Reid’s, only to be met with a polite wave. I snorted lightly. Hotch and Reid both glared at me. “Do you mind if we take a look around?”

O’Mara shook his head. With his thick Boston accent, he responded, “Take as long as you need, do whatever you need to do. I trust you, Aaron.”

“Thanks, Mike.”

The three of us turned to look at the car and the bodies still inside it while O’Mara ordered his men out of the way. Reid started reviewing the victims’ information aloud, but I stepped away to think on my own while canvassing the car. As I had seen before from a distance, there was blood trailing from crime scene markers 3 and 7 all the way to the car door. Drawn onto the silver paint was The Reaper’s symbol in blood. I recognized it from the files Hotch showed me when we initially discussed The Reaper. I didn’t know what the symbol was, though. It was an eye with lines coming out of it—almost like eyelashes… or like the protruding lines Jack would draw on a sun doodle to represent the sunrays. Maybe it meant we were being watched? I wasn’t sure.

I looked into the car, leaning in through the window to get a look at the bodies. Hotch came up behind me and handed me a pair of blue rubber gloves. I silently thanked him. While sliding the gloves on, I took note of the male victim’s rolled up left sleeve, revealing that he had a tan line where a watch used to be. According to Reid’s narration, this victim’s name was Evan Harvey. He was a twenty-three year old recent college graduate, traveling to visit his parents with his girlfriend, Nina Hale, nineteen. For a man who was bludgeoned repeatedly, then shot execution style, Evan’s body seemed pretty… intact. I mean, he was hardly recognizable behind all of the blood, but everything else about him looked put together. He was a poster child for a low-risk victim. What stuck out to me the most were the glasses on his face. If The Reaper had beat him with a tool of some kind, Evan’s glasses would’ve been completely shattered, bent, and ruined. They wouldn’t be sitting perfectly on his broken face. So, The Reaper posed him that way. The question was, why?

I stepped out of the way so that Hotch could get a look at Evan while I went around the car to look at Nina in the passenger’s seat. She was in much worse shape than Evan was. His face was the only thing that had been destroyed by The Reaper, but when it came to Nina, every part of her was destroyed. He had started by stabbing her forty-six times. Everywhere from her shoulders, breasts, stomach, even her thighs, were completely torn up from the overkill. And then he slashed her throat to finally end the torture.

“Reid, look at this,” Hotch said as he leaned out of the car. I looked up shortly to see what they were talking about. Hotch had grabbed Evan’s wallet from his pocket to inspect something. “The glasses.”

Reid ducked down to look at Evan, Nina, me, then he stood and looked at Evan’s wallet again. “His eyesight’s perfect. He doesn’t need to wear glasses.”

Hotch sighed. “The Reaper always took something from each of his victims so that he could leave it on the next, that way we knew he was responsible. It was another way of claiming dominance and power. He took Evan’s watch and left George Foyet’s glasses.”

“George Foyet?” Reid inquired.

“The Reaper’s last victim.”

I stood and circled the car again. Crime scene markers 1 and 6 represented the two flat tires on the car. I bent down to get a good look. I glanced around and asked one of the uniforms if they had a carjack. He nodded and raced off to grab one from the trunk of his police car, then returned to hand it to me. I knelt down and started jacking up the car so that I could get a quick look at the tires before Hotch could yell at me for doing so. I didn’t need it to go very far. The second I could see under the tire, I realized what had happened, so I set the car back down and handed the jack back to the cop.

“Nails,” I said, standing up. Hotch and Reid looked at me with curious faces. “There are about seven different five-inch drywall nails embedded in the tire back here.”

Telling by the fact that there were so many nails, and they all seemed to strike both back tires, I was inclined to assume that this was on purpose. The Reaper probably planted the nails in the road, then waited for a random car to pass in order to let fate choose his victims.

“Reid, do you know what the drawing on the car means, if anything?” I asked.

He stepped back to get a better look at it. “The Eye of Providence.”

“Explain.”

He perked up at the opportunity to explain something—since the chance hardly ever arose. “The U.S. Government adopted the symbol in order to incorporate it into the Great Seal in 1782 with the words, ‘Annuit Coeptis’ inscribed underneath. You can still see it on the one-dollar bill today.”

“What does Annuit Coeptis mean?” Hotch asked.

“It’s Latin for fate.”

“The word ‘FATE’ was written on the wall in blood at the Foyet crime scene back in ’98.”

“My best bet, then, is that The Reaper sees himself as the personification of fate.”

“Maybe. But, then, why would he make a mistake like leaving Foyet alive?”

“He survived?’ I asked in shock. After seeing the brutality of this crime scene, I couldn’t understand how anyone could possibly survive anything like this…

“Yeah,” Hotch nodded. “Him and his girlfriend, Amanda, were attacked in their car when driving home from a date night. Foyet told police that The Reaper stopped them by pretending to be a lost tourist in need of directions. He stabbed Amanda and stabbed Foyet thirty-two times each.”

“Thirty-two? And he lived?” Reid seemed just as shocked as I was. The likelihood that Foyet could have survived that was next to impossible. He was incredibly lucky. “How did they save him in time before he bled out?”

“The Reaper called the police from the crime scene. There was an off-duty ambulance nearby, so they raced to resuscitate him.”

“He called during each crime?” I interrogated.

Hotch nodded.

“But he didn’t make a call this time.”

“He must’ve learned his lesson last time,” Reid said.

“Hotch,” O’Mara called, hurrying over, “there’s a reporter over there that wants to talk to you. It’s Roy Colson.”

Hotch sighed and silently left to go handle it. I didn’t understand. Hotch didn’t handle the media because that was JJ’s job. Why would some reporter ask specifically for Hotch, especially when we were busy like this, and Hotch was taking all the pressure?

A few minutes later, when Hotch was done talking with the reporter, he walked back in our direction, yet he didn’t stop until he got to the car. Reid and I took the hint. We headed to the car, too, getting back into our seats that we had been in when we arrived, and Hotch started driving off. The ride was silent since Hotch was lost in thought, and Spencer and I were busy with adding  our crime scene notes to our files so that we could catch the team up when we would get to the precinct.

When we parked in front of the local police station, Hotch said, “Y/N, when we get inside, I want you to meet up with Morgan and find Foyet for questioning. Last I heard, he went off the grid. You might have to work with Garcia to find him.”

I nodded and headed inside. The team, as expected, was already set up in a boardroom. They had case files and boxes littered around, a fresh, hot coffee pot nearby, and a bulletin board filled with pictures, names, and notes. I sat down next to Morgan. Taking a few minutes to finish up my own notes, I gave Morgan some time to finish what he was working on. After a bit, I asked him if I could borrow his help. He closed his file and looked at me. I explained everything Hotch told me about George Foyet, then said that he wanted us to find Foyet and question him. The issue was, we were going to have to dig to find Foyet, since he went underground.

Morgan immediately called Garcia. I thought it would’ve been fun to figure it out ourselves, but he was being a little lazy, so he wanted to cut corners. Garcia would be able to find Foyet without breaking a sweat.

“Mmm…” she hummed out of curiosity. “I’m gonna have to do some more digging. I’ll call you back when I have something.”

“Thanks, baby girl,” Morgan said.

A few minutes later, after we told Hotch that it would take some time to find Foyet, he insisted that we should give the profile to the local P.D. in the meantime.

I hadn’t actually heard the term “omnivore” used in regards to a profile before. I mean, I knew of it while studying to be a profiler, but I had never heard anyone on the team use it during a case before. We dealt with plenty of omnivores before, sure. But this was different. Since Hotch had been building this profile over the span of years, he was pulling out all the stops. He wanted to sound impressive. He wanted to be impressive. He didn’t want to make it seem like he had just been sitting on his ass since 1998, not doing a damn thing about The Reaper.

The term “omnivore”, in our line of work, referred to a very specific type of psychopath. An omnivore was someone who didn’t choose a specific victim type. They were opportunistic people. If the situation arose for the perfect crime, they would take it. Like The Reaper, for instance. What we saw with Evan Harvey and Nina Hale was due to unfortunate circumstances. He left out nails on the road, then waited around for someone to appear. It didn’t matter who, it just mattered that it happened. It needed to happen because of the fame, not the thirst for blood. Yes, that was always a factor when it came to psychopathic serial killers, but with omnivores, the media and the fame was just as important as quenching that thirst. Because of that narcissistic mindset, it was damn near impossible for omnivores to maintain any kind of close relationship. As always, there were outliers. The Reaper, however, did not pose as an outlier to us. It seemed that his main focus was on the fame and dominating the police. No one would be able to befriend or fall in love with someone like that.

Hotch made it clear that although we were also profiling The Reaper as a Hebephile—someone attracted to younger people, specifically teenagers—that didn’t mean he could get it up. One of the first things any potential profiler would learn was the serial killers who used knives did it because they were impotent. They couldn’t get it up, so they used the penetration of a blade to make up for that. The Reaper loved using knives. We saw the overkill with Nina Hale, and with Amanda, Foyet’s girlfriend. He couldn’t rape them, so he took the next best option. It was important to note that in the profile we gave to the police because we were therefore looking for someone who worked with young girls. A teacher, a coach, a tutor, even a pediatrician. We were especially looking for anyone with a record within the last ten years. There was no way a guy like this hadn’t been arrested previously.

My phone started ringing just as we started wrapping up the profile, I looked to see that it was Garcia. I excused myself from the team. As I stepped away into a private room, I answered the call, not finding enough energy to respond to her sassy pickup line. Maybe I should’ve been snippy enough with her to make her bad news blow over better. She told me the worst thing imaginable: Penelope Garcia couldn’t find George Foyet. There weren’t many times when Garcia couldn’t pull through for us, yet somehow this was one of those times. I didn’t understand. She explained that he had gone completely off the grid, getting rid of his entire past and turning into a ghost. Probably on purpose. I didn’t blame him. If I knew that there was a serial killer out to get me, I’d go underground, too.

“Okay. Thank you, Garcia.”

“You’re welcome.” She hung up without her usual, peppy self.

I sighed and buried my phone in my pocket. I was sorry that I couldn’t match her upbeat personality that afternoon, but trying to keep up with Hotch’s intensity was… well, I was just as exhausted as Hotch was, I was sure.

“What’s wrong?” Hotch asked, stepping into the room and taking note of my worry and confusion.

“Garcia can’t find Foyet,” I admitted. “He’s disappeared entirely in order to hide from The Reaper.”

Hotch shook his head and fished out his phone. “I don’t know how I didn’t think of this sooner…”

“What?”

“I might know someone who knows where Foyet is.”

I perked up slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah. Give me a second to make a call.”

I nodded and stepped out of the room to give him privacy. I leaned against the wall just beside the door frame while biting my nails nervously, watching the team as they talked with some of the uniforms that had questions about the profile they just finished presenting. It only took another minute or so before Hotch knocked on the window on the door. I jumped slightly. As I caught my breath and calmed my nerves, I pushed into the room again.

“So?” I asked.

“I got the address.”

“You want to go?”

He nodded. “You’ll come with me?”

“Always.”

He smiled at me. As I smiled back at him, he stepped forward and kissed my forehead. It was a silent thank you for bearing with him through all of this, but he had to know that I didn’t need a thank you. I loved my job, and I loved him. If something meant a lot to him, I was going to go out of my way to make it mean a lot to me, too. Whatever he needed, whenever.

It was already getting late by the time we arrived at Foyet’s address. When we first spotted him, he was walking home from the grocery store, his arms full of grocery bags. We gave it a moment to make sure the coast was clear. We didn’t want to accidentally lead The Reaper straight to George Foyet. That wouldn’t have been fair to him. But once we were sure that no one was watching us or him, we got out and met him on the sidewalk.

“George Foyet?” I inquired. He looked up at us with worry. “It’s alright. We’re with the FBI.” He relaxed, but only slightly. I showed him my credentials to make him feel better, and Hotch followed my lead. “I’m Agent Greenaway. This is SSA Hotchner.”

“We’ve met once before,” Hotch said. “Do you remember me?”

Foyet nodded. “Of course. You helped save my life.” He glanced over his shoulder, searching up and down the street to make sure no one was watching us. “Would you mind if we got off the street, please?”

Hotch and I nodded. Foyet pushed past us with a limp, leading us up to a house just down the block. He coughed as he struggled to get his keys out of his pocket while juggling his groceries. I offered to take something for him, and he thanked me before handing me one of the brown paper bags. He coughed again as he opened the door. His coughing was deep, with a painful wheeze that told me this wasn’t just a cough from the cold or because he had a cold. This was a serious, dangerous cough.

As we walked into his small home, he guided us to the kitchen where I set the bag down on the counter for him. He quietly thanked me. I nodded as he coughed again. He sat down at the kitchen table, trying to catch his breath while adjusting his glasses on his nose. At least he got a new pair since his attack all those years ago. That was a plus… Right?  Honestly, I couldn’t imagine being in his shoes. I pitied the guy. Getting stabbed as meant times as he did probably affected his health more than we could ever know. And there was no one there to help him. He was all alone, navigating this without any friends, families, or loved ones. I could only hope that if something like that ever happened to me, Hotch and the team could be by my side to support me

“How did you guys find me?” he asked.

“Roy Colson,” Hotch answered.

Foyet’s face fell at the realization. He had been so careful attempting to cover his tracks, but the one person he trusted to keep his identity a secret just betrayed him. “Oh.” He pointed to the medicine on the counter beside me as he started to cough loudly once more. I caught the hint, handing him the orange bottle as quickly as I could. After he popped a pill and swallowed hard, he asked, “Is this going to take long? I don’t want to be late for work.”

“What do you do?” Hotch inquired.

“I’m a freelance computer specialist for the city. I could get fired if I’m late.”

“This won’t take long, I swear,” I said. “We just want you to tell us what you can remember from the night The Reaper attacked you.”

“So, the recent attacks aren’t copycats?”

I shook my head.

“I knew it…” he said woefully. “I was going to propose to Amanda that night… I was going to do it at the restaurant, but I cowered out of it at the last second. We were heading home, and my plan was to do it there. But when we got in the car, he approached our window, pretending to be a lost tourist. I rolled down my window and tried to give him directions… That was when he dropped the map and stabbed me.” He started to cry. “I couldn’t do anything… I just sat there, bleeding out, listening to her scream and cry my name… I wanted to help her—I wanted to save her, but I couldn’t.” He shivered and sobbed. “Do you know how long it takes to stab someone thirty-two times? It felt like years… It felt like I was stuck in that seat every second for years, and there was nothing I could do to make time speed up.” He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. “I never found the ring. He took it. I thought that he was going to put it on the next victim, but the next one never came…” He looked at me. “What did he put on them?”

“Who?” I asked.

“The most recent victims. You wouldn’t be here unless it was about those murders last night.”

I shuffled on the balls of my feet. “He left your glasses.”

“So, that son of a bitch still has Mandy’s ring?!” He broke down again. “No… You can’t let him put it on another victim. You can’t let him ruin that for me.”

“Mr. Foyet, have you received any odd calls recently?” Hotch interrogated.

He shook his head. “I have multiple residences that I move between randomly so that no one can get ahold of me.”

“What about your work?”

“If they want to talk to me, they have to wait to see me in person.” He grabbed a napkin from the table to use as a tissue. “He likes to kill people in their cars, so I’ve been taking the bus. I’ve done everything in my power to make sure no one can get to me. Especially him.”

“We’ll need your other identities and residences so that we can get ahold of you,” I said.

He nodded. “Okay.”

Hotch pulled out a notepad and pen from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “We can put you under protection to keep you safe.”

“You can’t protect me,” he scoffed. “No one can.” He started scribbling all of his information down. “You have to be careful with this, Agent Greenaway. Please. I’m entrusting you with my life.”

“I understand.” My eyes pouted in pity. I took the notepad from him. “We can check on you tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“No. The more you come around, the more likely he is to find me.”

Fair enough, I thought. The longer we were with him, the more danger he was in, too. So, Hotch and I thanked him for meeting with us, then left to drive back to the precinct. When we arrived, Hotch paused and sighed before getting out of the car. I eyed him warily. As we crossed the street, Hotch approached a man standing just in front of the entrance to the precinct. When he spotted us, he jumped onto his toes.

“Y/N, this is Roy Colson. He and I met in the 90’s. He wrote the biography on The Reaper.” Hotch sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“This arrived at my office this morning,” Roy said while handing a letter preserved in a laminated cover to Hotch. “I didn’t know what else to do, since you asked me to hold the story and whatnot.”

“It’s just a copy of what he sent to the police during the original case,” Hotch said.

“I know. But the only people who have it are the police and The Reaper. So, if the cops didn’t send it to me, we know who did.”

“We’ll run this in the lab for DNA. Thanks, Roy.”

“No problem.”

“We’ll be in touch again, if we need.”

“Got it.”

Hotch and I nodded politely in his direction before continuing on into the precinct. Inside, Hotch gave the letter to Reid, who was supposed to take it with him to the lab to get it tested for DNA while also inspecting its authenticity. As for the rest of us, however, it had already been a long day. We had done so much already. It was imperative that we take a break, get some rest, refresh ourselves so that we could come back the next day to be as good as new. So, Hotch sent everyone to the hotel for the night.

When we got to the hotel, Hotch immediately sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked so tired. He seemed worn out and worried, which was only worrying me, which would only worry him, and the cycle would continue. It wasn’t healthy. The best way to sort this all out was to get him to just talk to me. He would be reluctant to do so, but I’d force it out of him eventually. Aaron Hotchner sucked at keeping secrets from me. He tried multiple times, and each time I found out, I got pissed. Now, this wasn’t necessarily a secret, but he was certainly bottling something up, and I just needed him to get it off his chest.

So, I strolled over to him and brushed my fingers through his hair. He sighed away his worries. I smiled lightly and kissed his head as I moved to straddle his lap, my knees squeezing his thighs. Hotch grabbed onto my ass to keep me steady. We took a moment to just sit calmly and in silence, giving him a chance to sort his thoughts out because we both knew that I would eventually ask him to tell me everything. I could spare some time to let him breathe. I could spare all the time in the world for him. If just holding me in his arms for a few minutes was all it took to let him catch his breath, then I was fine with that. I would always be fine with that.

I wiped my palms over his face, clearing away any stubborn wrinkles he had from thinking too hard. “You okay?”

“I’m really worried about this one, baby,” Hotch said as I kissed his forehead. “This case has always stuck with me. Why?”

“Because you don’t like letting the monsters roam free.”

He shook his head. “There’s something more than that. There’s something… off. It’s just under my nose, and I can’t figure out what it is. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’m worried that my inability to comprehend what’s wrong here is inevitably going to come back to bite me in the ass.”

“You can’t give into all of that fate bullshit, Aaron.” I tucked my hair behind my ears and went to the bathroom to start getting ready for the night.

“I’m just worried…” he muttered under his breath.

The phone started ringing while I was brushing my hair out. “Babe?!” I called out to him, almost like a plea for him to answer it because I couldn’t. I heard him stand from the bed and walk to the phone. It stopped ringing as he answered.

“Hotchner.”

I stepped to lean against the doorframe. Hotch’s side profile was facing me, giving me enough of him to look over in both a lustful and profiling way. I was admiring him and his tight muscles under his shirt. He looked so good like that. His biceps were flexing while holding the phone up to his ear, and it made me want him. But then I saw his pale face. He looked as if he had seen a ghost, and my desire was quickly replaced by worry.

Hotch turned to face me. “You think I’d take that deal?” he asked into the phone. Deal? Deal as in the deal that The Reaper made with Shaunessy? Was that why Hotch looked pale? Did The Reaper call our hotel room? “I don’t care if it’s a good deal.” He was silent again for a bit. “I’ve misjudged you,” he said as his demeanor changed. He was using the profile we built on The Reaper to take the upper hand in this case. Good. “I thought you were smarter than this.” Silence again. “Then you’ve misjudged me.” Hotch’s eyes shot wide and he looked at me suddenly. I pushed off the doorframe and cautiously approached him. His eyes seemed to flutter shut in peace when I put my hands on his shoulders to calm him down. “I don’t make deals. You can threaten me and them all you want, but I’m not going to stop. I’m the guy who hunts guys like you. Threatening them only makes my urge to track you down stronger.” Hotch turned out of my touch so that he could slam the phone down to hang up.

“Was that The Reaper?” I inquired, even though I already knew the answer. Hotch grabbed my hips and pulled me close. He nodded shortly. “He threatened you?”

“And you.”

“Of course, he did,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “But you didn’t take his deal?”

“I told you I wouldn’t.” He draped his arms over my shoulders, keeping me close in a tight hug. “You still believe that my messes are your messes?”

“They always are and always will be.”

The phone started ringing again, making Hotch and I both jump. As we settled, we both chuckled lightly. It was just a phone call. It couldn’t hurt us. So, Hotch leaned over to answer the phone again, and I held onto his elbows, refusing to let go, especially after what just happened. Hotch was protective, everyone knew that, but when someone threatened him, I felt the need to protect him, too. It came with the territory of loving someone like him in our field of work. After the call The Reaper just made to our hotel room, there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to let anything happen to Hotch. I didn’t care about what could happen to me. I only cared about protecting him.

“Hotchner.” He turned back to face me while talking on the phone, so I buried my face in his chest, running my fingers over his abs through his shirt. He tensed. “Thanks for letting me know.” His tension wasn’t in response to my light, tickling touch, but to whatever happened on that call. He hung up just as quickly as he had answered. “There’s a new crime scene.”

“It’s only been a few minutes—”

“He knew I was going to turn him down. He was waiting.”

“Aaron, before we go, you need to know that it’s not your fault. If he was really waiting on you, then he was just looking for an excuse to kill someone—”

He pushed me off his chest and went to grab his suit jacket. I watched him silently. When he went to the bathroom to gel his hair back, I sucked in a deep breath, trying to collect my security. He pushed me off because he was upset at the case, not at me. I had to remember that.

“It’s not your fault,” I insisted again as he hurried for the hotel room door. He didn’t listen to me. He started walking down the hallway, knocking on the team’s doors when he passed them. “Aaron, please!” I skipped a few steps to catch up to him. “We knew this would happen!”

Hotch stopped and turned on his heels abruptly, making me crash into him. “He killed seven people on a bus, Y/N!”

I stumbled back. I stared at him in shock for a moment before letting him go on his own. The doors behind me opened. After a moment, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned to see that it was Reid who had come to check on me. My eyes softened.

“We have a new crime scene. Tell the others.” I shrugged out of his touch gently before walking off, too.

At the crime scene, Hotch was already on the bus, looking around at the chaos The Reaper created. The team, since we had only just arrived, filed onto the bus to get a look, too. As I stepped on, Hotch immediately pushed past me. I scoffed. Then, I tried to make a move to follow him.

“Stay here, kiddo,” Rossi warned, holding up a hand. My shoulders fell in defeat. I stepped out of the way so that Rossi could chase after Hotch instead of me. “It’ll be okay,” he said while passing me.

I sighed and shuffled through the rows of seats, counting the bodies. Yep. There were seven people. The driver up front… He was wearing Amanda’s engagement ring. That was the first thing I noticed. George Foyet begged us to not let The Reaper ruin that good memory for him, and we broke that promise— I broke that promise. How was I supposed to tell him the truth? How were we supposed to give notifications of death to seven different families?

A tear slid down my cheek.

We knew that this would happen. Hotch had been saying since the very beginning that The Reaper would inevitably attempt to make a deal with him, and he would turn it down. But we hadn’t anticipated that the repercussions would happen so fast. There was no time to warn the team, the Boston Police, or even the city. We could’ve saved lives if the deal had come at any other time. That was why Hotch blamed himself. He felt like these seven deaths were on his hands because he wouldn’t make a deal with the Devil. And, honestly, he had every reason to believe that, especially with the note drawn in blood on the window that read: “NO DEAL”.

Besides the “NO DEAL” message, there were three sets of numbers painted onto the windows, too. “1439”, “201”, and “1488”. I cocked a brow. Those numbers… They looked so familiar. I had no idea why, but they were ringing some bell in my head that I couldn’t understand. So, I asked Reid if he recognized them. He shrugged and shook his head. Well, if boy genius couldn’t put it together, then we were fucked.

And then it dawned on me.

“Holy shit…” I raced out of the bus, pushing past Emily inconsiderably, then hurrying onto the road. I stopped for a moment to look around for Hotch. When I spotted him and Rossi talking to O’Mara, I ran over. “Hotch!” He turned to me with panicked eyes. “The numbers—” I pointed to the bus, “They’re Foyet’s address numbers. He knows where Foyet lives!”

“This bus is the 7 line,” O’Mara said, “it runs right by that first address, 1439 Yarbrough.” He was already running to jump into his car.

“Foyet’s in trouble,” I said to Hotch.

Hotch scratched his five o’clock shadow. “We’ll split up and cover each of the addresses. Y/N, go with Morgan to 1439, Emily and Reid will go to 201, and Rossi and I will head to 1488.”

“Morgan!” I called out as I turned around. He looked up at me through the bloody windows of the bus. When I gestured to one of the cars, he nodded, then raced out to meet me there. “Drive,” I told him, tossing the keys in his direction.

As he started the car up, I opened the trunk just wide enough to get ahold of two of the blue bullet proof vests, then slammed it shut and hurried to jump into the passenger’s seat. Morgan started up the lights and sirens. We were off before anyone else. I started putting on my vest while we drove, just to save time. When we would get there, we would have to wait a moment for Morgan to strap his on, but this way we were a little bit ahead of schedule.

The second we were parked in front of the house that Hotch and I met George Foyet at, I tossed him his vest, then got out of the car. I unholstered my weapon. As I glanced around the street, I saw O’Mara’s car parked just a few houses down. When Morgan was ready, he unholstered his gun, too, and turned on the flashlight he had attached to his. Fucking hell, I needed to upgrade mine like that. Maybe I could beg him to do it for me for my birthday or something.

We ran up to the front door, but I held him back when I saw that it was open. O’Mara must’ve already gone inside without back up. Idiot. That being said, we still had to clear the house ourselves, just in case. The best way to do that was to take a floor each. Morgan and I agreed that he would check the ground floor, meanwhile I’d race upstairs to clear the upper floor.

“Don’t shoot O’Mara,” I whispered.

Morgan rolled his eyes, then pushed the door open. As he ran into the pitch-dark living room, I skipped up the twelve steps of the stairwell. At the top, I took notice of how many rooms there were to clear. Three. A bedroom, a bathroom, and a spare room. I held my breath as I turned into the spare room. There was absolutely nothing in there. Foyet probably didn’t choose that as his bedroom considering how close it was to the front door. I didn’t blame him. So, I moved onto the bathroom. Nothing and no one.

I froze as I turned into the bedroom. Detective O’Mara’s body was on the floor, his shirt drenched in his own blood from being stabbed dozens of times in the back. His gun was nowhere to be found. My breath quivered as I quickly stepped into the room, clearing the corners before someone could jump me, then checking the closet and the bathroom to make sure no one could get me like they did with O’Mara. There was no one there, though. I was all alone. Well, alone with O’Mara’s dead body, but still. The concern was that there was no sign of Foyet, no sign of The Reaper, and there was a dead cop on the floor.

Suddenly, the sound of a window breaking echoed throughout the house. “Morgan!” I cried out. I jumped onto my toes and started racing back downstairs. “Morgan!” I called again when he wasn’t responding. I ran into the living room to see the front window completely smashed open like someone had been thrown through it. I heard painful groaning coming from the front yard. “Morgan!” I peeked out the open window frame with my gun raised. “Morgan, no—” I saw him lying on his back in the grass. He was half awake, barely writhing around, still groaning in agony. I jumped out the window and fell to my knees beside him. I grabbed his face long enough to see that his eyes were fluttering open. “Morgan, where is he?” He didn’t respond. “Is he still here?”

“No…” he croaked weakly.

“Where did he go?”

Morgan didn’t respond again. I figured that he only had enough strength to warn me that The Reaper was gone, and that was all. He did good, though. It meant that I could call in for help while staying with him instead of going back into the house to keep searching for an Unsub who was long gone.

I pressed the comm on my shoulder. “Morgan’s down! We need back up. O’Mara’s dead, Foyet’s gone, and The Reaper left after attacking Morgan!” I put my hands back on Morgan. “Look at me, Derek. Keep your eyes open.”

He groaned and tried to hand something to me. “Take—” He couldn’t finish what he wanted to say, but I caught the hint, quickly taking what it was that he was holding onto.

My face fell. “Morgan…” I turned the bullet over in my palm. “I…” A tear slid down my cheek. He always took something from his victims and gave something from the last one. What I didn’t understand was why he didn’t leave something from one of the last victims. Why this bullet?

“Cred—” He groaned and patted his pocket. “My… Creds…”

I frantically looked into his pocket, ignoring how weird it would’ve been if it were anyone but my partner. I was shocked to find that his credentials weren’t in his pocket, though, which was probably what he was trying to tell me in the first place. The Reaper left a bullet, but took Morgan’s FBI credentials—the thing that identified him as an agent. The thing that represented how far he had come since Buford. How did The Reaper know to take that one thing?

I pressed my palms against his cheeks. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Foyet…”

I shook my head. “I don’t know where he is.”

“No—” He gasped for air. “The kitchen… Blood…”

“Is Foyet dead?”

“I don’t know.”

He gasped again, this time more deeply as he caught his breath. He was already sounding better, but he wasn’t looking better, which was a concern. I knew that he was going to shrug this off. The minute he could sit up, he was going to insist that he was alright, and he would want to get right back into the case and the field. Over my dead body… For a lack of a better term.

Sirens started approaching from the distance. I sighed with relief, but I never stopped holding him. I shouldn’t have split up from him. We learned this lesson years ago when Hankle took Reid because he split apart from JJ. Every time we split up, something bad happened, and I should’ve known that this time would be no different. We could’ve cleared the house together. It wouldn’t have been that hard. Sure, it would have taken longer, but at least he wouldn’t have been attacked by The Reaper.

The lights of the ambulances started flashing through the street. I waved one of my arms in the air, signaling that we were still on the lawn outside Foyet’s house. They pulled up in front of the house and the paramedics jumped out. I stepped back. As they started attending to Morgan, I saw one of the team’s cars pull up, too. I prayed it was Hotch. When I saw that it was a worried Emily and Rossi getting out of the car, I felt my heart sink a bit.

Emily ran straight over to me while Rossi went inside to start dealing with the crime scene. “What happened?” she asked me.

I looked back at Morgan, who was now sitting upright. “We split up to clear the house. I found O’Mara’s body in the bedroom upstairs when I heard a fight break out in the living room. By the time I got downstairs, The Reaper was gone and Morgan was barely conscious.”

“Where’s Foyet?”

“I don’t know. Morgan checked downstairs, and he started to tell me that there was a lot of blood in the kitchen, but no sign of Foyet.”

“The Reaper could have taken him.”

“Maybe? But, then, why wait around for us to show up?”

“For the thrill kill? He thought that he could kill Morgan, which would up his game from civilians, but then you came downstairs, so he had to run.”

I watched as Morgan was lifted off the ground by the paramedics and taken inside so that they could start giving him stitches. Emily and I followed them, but I stayed out on the porch to catch my breath. I could have lost Morgan. I left him, and I could have lost him. How was I supposed to live with that? I should’ve been there. This wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t split ourselves up.

“Y/N—” Hotch called desperately, running up the front yard to meet me on the steps. I turned away from the doorway just in time to catch Hotch in a tight embrace. I hadn’t anticipated that he would do such a thing while we were at work and the team was around, but, honestly, I was glad that he did because after what happened, I really needed it. “Are you alright?” he whispered into my ear while squeezing me until I practically couldn’t breathe.”

“Yeah,” I answered through a strangled breath.

Hotch released me entirely. I caught my breath slightly before looking up to see that he was pale with worry again, but this time his eyes were red. “I shouldn’t have split us all up.”

“Hotch, you didn’t know—”

“He threatened you, Y/N. I shouldn’t have let you—”

“We’re doing our jobs. This isn’t the first time an Unsub has made it personal, and it won’t be the last. I need you to calm down for me, Aaron. Please.”

“Is Morgan alright?” he croaked.

I stopped. He was… He was trying not to cry. Aaron Hotchner— SSA Aaron Christopher Hotchner… was trying not to cry during a case. He never showed emotion while we were on the job. Ever. Yeah, okay, maybe he would get annoyed or upset by something, but he tried to hide it until we were at least alone or something. I didn’t understand why this was really getting to him. There were hundreds of other cases where something went wrong, something didn’t go according to his plan— and, of course, he was upset, but never like this. He didn’t break down in front of people like this. Why? Why now? Why this case?

Brushing his hair off his face always seemed to calm him down, so I started with that. As the paramedics that had been attending to Morgan’s wounds exited the house, I cupped Hotch’s cheek, letting him press tenderly into my palm. “He’s okay. We’re okay.”

“I shouldn’t have let you guys come here on your own.”

I ran my fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp smoothly. “Please, don’t blame yourself. He needs you to hold it together just for a little longer—we all need it.” I didn’t want to tell him to hide his emotions. I knew that it wasn’t healthy to keep it all bottled up. But if Morgan saw how worried Hotch was about him, Morgan would fly off the rails. “The Reaper took Morgan’s credentials.”

Hotch’s eyes widened. “What did he leave?”

“A bullet.”

“To tell Morgan that he could have killed him… He owes his life to The Reaper.” He turned and punched the wood column standing at the edge of the porch. He whimpered quietly at the pain. “Fuck.”

I grabbed his hand, immediately tending to his bloody knuckles. “I’ll get you some ice. Go inside.”

Hotch kissed my temple as he passed by me. When he was out of sight, I hid my face in my palms, trying to choke back the sob that was building in my chest. How did all of this go so wrong? From the deal, to the bus, to Morgan getting attacked by The Reaper? It was wearing me down. I was exhausted physically and mentally. If I didn’t get to rest soon, I feared I was actually going to tear my own hair out.

As I suspected, Morgan insisted on not being benched once we got back to the precinct. Hell, he didn’t even let the paramedics take him to the hospital. The worst part, however, was that I was too tired to fight him on it, and he knew that. He knew that I couldn’t make him sit out of this, and he used that against me. I was pissed for a bit. I’d be the first to admit that I was glaring at Morgan as we got coffee together in the break room, then went to sit down with the team in the boardroom to revisit our profile. But then I realized something. I was only mad because I was worried about him. I was frustrated that he wasn’t taking care of himself and that I couldn’t do anything to help him. That was when my focus changed to Hotch. He had taken his anger out on me earlier, after the deal was made, because he was just worried about me. I couldn’t blame him for that now that I felt the same way about Morgan.

Hotch held the new ice pack I got him from the freezer in the breakroom against his swollen fist as he asked the team, “Why is he so focused on Foyet? What’s so special about him?”

There was an obvious answer, but I was going to let it slide considering how tired we all were. The truth was, The Reaper was obsessed with Foyet because he was the only one that got away. He was his last victim before making the deal with Shaunessy. But those answers weren’t good enough for Hotch. Something was still bugging him, therefore, he wanted us to dig deeper.

“What about Amanda Bertrand?” JJ asked. “Foyet’s girlfriend.”

“He told us that she was the love of his life, that he was going to propose the night she was murdered. He looked… distraught… It seemed real,” I answered, staring at Hotch. I wouldn’t know how to react either if I lost Hotch. Even years later, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to move on from something like that.

Morgan furrowed his brows and looked into his notes. “But, she just got here from Michigan.”

“What?”

“How long had she been here?” Hotch inquired.

“Four weeks,” Prentiss answered.

My jaw fell agape. To be fair, I supposed I couldn’t blame them. Hotch and I started going out about a month into my promotion at the BAU. It was possible that George Foyet and Amanda Bertrand fell in love at first sight. Who was I to judge? JJ…

“Wait, didn’t our profile say that he’s a Hebephile?” JJ asked. “He was a teacher’s assistant back then. He worked with Amanda’s class— That’s how they met.”

“Oh, my…” I trailed off when the realization hit me like a train.

We trusted him. We were invited into his home, and we were convinced by the tears he shed for Amanda. I was blinded by his illness and the love it seemed he still had for her. I—I should’ve… I should’ve seen it sooner. If I had, O’Mara would still be alive, and Morgan wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Even the suspicious things he said, like, “Do you know how long it takes to stab someone thirty-two times?” He played me with the empathy card. He made me pity him. Somehow, he knew that it would get under my skin by pressing the love button over and over again. I felt so fucking stupid.

“Colson went to see Foyet,” Hotch said after a moment of shock. “George Foyet is The Reaper—Someone call Garcia and tell her to get a trace on Roy Colson’s phone.” He leapt out of his seat, throwing the ice pack to the side, and hurried to get his vest back on. The rest of the team followed suit while JJ called Garcia.

By the time we had our vests on, Garcia had already sent us the location of Colson, and likely Foyet, too. On our way to the car, I apologized to Hotch for not seeing it sooner. He told me that it wasn’t my fault, the same way the bus massacre wasn’t his fault. I shook my head in denial. We got into the car with Morgan and Rossi.

“My thing has always been profiling people and scenes with a glance. I’ve always done that. I should’ve done better. I shouldn’t have let my guard down because—”

“Y/N,” Hotch interrupted while speeding out of the parking lot, “no one ever saw it. Since ’98, no one put the pieces together. He stabbed his girlfriend, called the police a mile down the road, drove back, then stabbed himself thirty-two times. Of course, no one was going to suspect him. He played the victim and love card on us both, and we fell for it. This isn’t your fault. You have to believe me.”

I slumped in my seat. Defeat coursed through me. I didn’t know what else to do but sit in silence.

At the location Garcia gave us, Hotch and Emily turned off the sirens and lights on the cars so that we could approach quietly. As we silently stepped onto the pavement, Hotch gestured with two fingers that Rossi, Emily, and Reid should go around back, then I would go with him and Morgan to the front door. We needed to close off all possible exits. So, we waited for the other half of the team to canvass the backyards for possible escapes, but when we had the go ahead, we stormed up to the front door.

“We’re inside,” Rossi whispered into his comm.

“Go,” Hotch told Morgan.

Morgan nodded, then winced as he kicked the door open. We hurried into the living room to find Roy Colson sitting at a table with George Foyet, the latter holding a gun to Colson’s head. They both noticed us immediately. Colson’s relief was countered by Foyet’s furiousness that we had interrupted his plans.

“It’s over,” Hotch said, stepping in front of me and Morgan.

Foyet stood. “Stop there or I’ll kill him.” He cocked his gun.

“No, you won’t. You need him to write your story,” I said after noticing the computer open in front of Colson.

“Then, I’ll take him with me. I’ll let him go as soon as I’m safe.”

“No, you won’t,” Hotch said. “You’re going to kill him, regardless. But, here’s the secret, Foyet: you kill him, I kill you. Got it?”

Foyet snorted. “You think I’m afraid to die?” He gestured to his chest, referencing how he had stabbed himself for the sake of throwing us off his trail.

“I think you’re narcissistic and greedy. You’re only afraid to die if it means no one will remember you. If you do this now, no one will remember you. You’ll disappear. If you keep him alive, however, he’s going to write another book about you—this time naming you, making you more famous than you’ve ever been before. People will make movies and documentaries about you if you’re still around to tell your story. But if I kill you here and now, they might make one documentary about The Reaper, who was never found or heard from again, and then they’ll forget all about you. Is that what you want? Because I can make that happen.”

Foyet’s attention turned to Morgan. A slow grin grew on his face. “Well, hello there, again, Derek.”

“Don’t talk to him,” I snapped.

Foyet smiled at me before putting his gun down. “Fair enough, princess.”

Morgan immediately holstered his weapon, switching it out for his handcuffs. He hurried to pull Foyet’s arms behind his back, then cuffs his wrists together as tightly as he could, earning a groan and an ear to ear grin from Foyet.

“Where’s my badge, you son of a bitch?” Morgan asked angrily.

Foyet’s eyes were trained on me, though. He was staring straight into my soul, as if he could somehow see under my clothes, into my heart and brain, like he was drowning in the color of my eyes. It ran a chill down my spine. I tried looking away to ease my perturbation about it, but what he said next made me look back up at him.

“See, I get it now, Aaron,” Foyet snickered. “She’s gorgeous.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Morgan hissed before pushing Foyet forward.

“I’m going to be more famous than you even realize, Aaron Hotchner! Watch me!”

Roy and I let out shaky sighs at the same time once Morgan shoved Foyet out of the house. I turned to Hotch. He was fuming, I could tell. So much had happened, and he felt like all of it was his fault. It wasn’t of course. I was the one who pushed him to take the case, to bring the team along, to keep me close so that I could keep an eye on him. We just hadn’t anticipated this mess. We didn’t expect that Morgan would get hurt and that Foyet would creep me out on purpose. It was so odd to see him go from that shy, sick, broken hearted man to that confident, angry, sociopathic man that had just stared into my soul moments ago.

Hotch stared at me from across the room. His eyes searched mine, trying to replace the disgusting feel of Foyet’s stare with his loving, calming, dark chocolate gaze. I relaxed a bit. He pouted his eyes at me in a way that said: “I love you”, and I returned the favor.

On the jet, I sat with Hotch in the back where the two seats away from everyone else were. He had me sit next to the window so that he could hold my hand under the table. Morgan and Emily were talking on the couch, and Reid had his hand on JJ’s stomach, feeling the way her baby kicked. It creeped him out. Of course, Spencer Reid, Knower of All Things, would be creeped out by a baby kicking and hiccupping inside a mother’s stomach. He was so funny when he was naïve. But it was good that they were all distracted. The fact that they had their own things going on meant that they weren’t focused on us. That gave Hotch a chance to hold me.

At some point, after Rossi left the bathroom and took a seat across from JJ and Reid, I even rested my cheek against Hotch’s shoulder. We hadn’t slept in so long. We were so fucking tired. While we were obviously eager to get back to Jack, I figured that it wouldn’t hurt to have one night to ourselves where we could rest, then tomorrow, to distract Hotch, we could play with the black box before picking up Jack. It was a good plan. It sounded like a nice plan, honestly.

When JJ’s phone started ringing, it woke me up slightly. I lifted my head long enough to look up at Hotch to see that he had just woken up, too. I chuckled at him before poking his dimple. He was cute when he was sleeping. He was even cuter when his eyes were barely open, but he could still see me smiling, so he instinctively smiled back at me. We were going to be okay.

We looked over as JJ got off the phone. She swallowed hard and looked at each of us in silence. I felt my smile fall. She didn’t look well— not that something was wrong with her or the baby, but because whatever happened on that call made her heart sink. Everyone sat in silence, waiting for her to give them answers. If it were just another case, she would’ve told us, or if it were something wrong with reports, she would’ve told us. This was different. She looked petrified with fear.

“George Foyet escaped custody.”

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

criminal minds family: @gorgeousdarkangel​ @peggy1999​  @alex--awesome--22​ @oceaneblu​ @brithedemonspawn​ @absolutemarveltrash​

[a-froger-epic]

NASTALLY'S ❇️Q U E E N❇️ FIC

📝 = (semi-)regular updates

❓= will update eventually

🧊 = on ice

✅ = complete

Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor

Froger - Love & Sex (18+):

Dawn of Aquarius [the epic] ✅ - Roger and Freddie meet in 1969 and change each other's lives. (romance, sexual awakening, coming of age, YA drama, period-typical homophobia, family drama, realism)

Good Company ✅ - collab with @quirkysubject The Queen boys accidentally on purpose watch porn together. (friends to... still friends but with interesting wanking habits, internalised homophobia, pining, humour)

Dreams of Tomorrow 📝- collab with @tikiniki A mad, medieval fantasy adventure with the Queen boys. (troubadour AU, adventure, fantasy, friendship, magic, origin stories, vikings, battles, a donkey called Tootsie)

Dawn of the Living Dead ❓ - It's the zombie apocalypse in 1971. (horror, dark comedy, blood & gore, insanity, friendship)

The Miracle ❓ - A slightly different take on the A/B/O trope. (mpreg, friends to lovers, kid!fic, parenthood, emotional realism, discrimination)

the eye of the beholder ✅ - Roger buys a video camera. (established relationship, script format, humour, light-hearted)

Time Waits for No One ✅ - collab with @bisexualroger Freddie and Roger's relationship through the years. (Christmas themed, sad, life has no happy endings, grief, acceptance, breakup, lovers to friends, death)

Sehnsucht 🧊 - Roger visits Freddie in Munich. They have a past. (Inspired by Dawn of Aquarius, pining, friendship, life has no happy endings, hurt/comfort, but mostly hurt)

Froger - Love:

A Kind of Magical Adventure (and the Spider from Mars) ❓ - collab with @plainxte​ The Doctor Who/Queen crossover nobody asked for! (friends to lovers, there was only one bed, fluffy Christmas space adventure)

The Only Exception ✅ - On a night out, something is rekindled between Roger and Freddie. (drug use, pining, past relationship, the one that got away, some humour)

Foxey ✅ - Freddie gives Roger an impromptu lapdance. (Dawn of Aquarius missing scene, fluff, humour, established relationship)

Secret ✅ - Brian is a good secret keeper. (Inspired by Dawn of Aquarius, handholding, angst and fluff, mostly fluff)

I put a spell on you (because you’re mine) ✅ - A Halloween special. (Dawn of Aquarius missing scene, breakup, angst, humour)

Incidentally Homosexual  ✅ - Roger wants to talk to Freddie about the Kinsey scale and sexuality.  (Dawn of Aquarius missing scene, internalised homophobia, pure fluff, soft boyfriends)

It’s Grim Up North (But There’s Light Up Ahead) ✅ - collab with @pumpkinlilyao3​ One time Roger saves Freddie, and one time Freddie saves Roger. (Friends to lovers, violence, slurs, angst, happy ending)

Promise ✅ - Roger and Freddie prepare for a special event in 2015. (Inspired by Dawn of Aquarius, Freddie lives, growing old together, pure fluff)

Tootsie’s Story ✅ - How Roger rescued a donkey. (Dreams of Tomorrow prequel, fantasy, adventure, troubadour AU, established relationship)

Ooh Love, ooh Loverboy… ✅ - Freddie through Roger's eyes. (established relationship, internal monologue, tooth-rotting fluff)

Romantic Drabbles ❓ - A mixed bag of Froger romance.

Froger - Porn Without Plot (18+):

A is for Amsterdam ✅ - Roger and Freddie walk into a sex shop. (Established relationship, bdsm, sex toys, dom!Roger, sub! Freddie, a bit of fluff and humour too)

B is for Bound ✅ - There's something Freddie would like to do. (Established relationship, bdsm, non-con play, dom!Roger, sub!Freddie)

C is for Control ✅ - There's something Roger would like to do. (Established relationship, mild bdsm dynamics, switching, top!Freddie, fluff)

D is for Discipline ✅ - Freddie turns a game into something a little more serious. (Spanking, bdsm, power dynamics, subspace, referenced cheating, guilt, dom drop)

Right until the ends of the Earth ✅ - Romantic piano sex. (Inspired by Dawn of Aquarius, mild bdsm dynamics, romance)

Tight Squeeze  ✅ - collab with @bambirexwrites fem!Queen; Regina and Freddie go shopping for shorts. Regina has some trouble fitting into them. Freddie helps her feel better. (Established relationship, body worship, semi-public sex)

One Fine Morning  ✅ - Freddie is trapped between two primal urges. (Established relationship, mild omorashi, morning sex)

Smutty Drabbles ❓- A mixed bag of Froger sexytimes.

Froger - Gen/shippy Gen:

Good Times (Better Times) ✅ - How Freddie met Roger, a Dawn of Aquarius prequel. (internal monologue, the Kensington pub, art student Freddie)

that special brew ✅ - That time Freddie accidentally drank marrijuana tea. (humour, Roger being a very sweet friend, light-hearted)

a joke nobody tells ✅ - Newly formed Queen dynamics or: not even Roger knows what is going on in Freddie's head. (group dynamics, insecurities, fear of failure, hurt/comfort)

Ghosts ✅ - Freddie’s arrival in Australia awakens some memories he would rather forget. (angst, referenced past sexual assault, friendship, hurt/comfort)

Including Love ✅ - Freddie and Roger love each other. But perhaps, not in that way. Or do they? (Roger-centric, character study, period-typical attitudes, male friendship, bromance)

Freddie Mercury

that which is good ❓ - Freddie meets Kenny. Two gay men struggling to find themselves, find comfort in each other’s friendship. (Angst, internalised homophobia, male friendship, hurt/comfort) 

Moments ❓ - A collection of moments in Freddie’s life. (Vignettes, angst, fluff, death, life, everything)

with my trust like a child ❓ - collab with @aboutnothingness A look at several of Freddie’s birthdays throughout his life (Hurt/no comfort, hurt/comfort, internal monologue, implied underage, heavy angst)

The God Abandons Antony [Freddie Mercury/Joe Fanelli] 🧊 - collab with @freddieofhearts​ On tour in the US, Freddie meets somebody new. (Internal monologue, angst, euphoria, new love, romance, cheating)

Rapture and Solace ✅ - 1991. (Internal monologue, fear of death, terminal illness, acceptance, background Jimercury)

to the bone (18+) ✅ - A police officer lets Freddie off the hook, in exchange for a favour. (Period-typical homophobia, abuse of power, sexual assault, hurt/no comfort)

Ménage à Deux  ✅ - An exploration of Freddie’s friendship with Barbara Valentin. (Dubcon, recreational drug use)

Naughty ✅ - Freddie's mind wanders while he poses nude for a life drawing class. (Internal monologue, some humour, internalised homophobia)

Don’t You (Walk Away) [Freddie Mercury/Winnie Kirchberger] ✅ - After a fight with Winnie, Freddie contemplates his life in Munich. (Hurt/No Comfort, toxic relationships, angst)

Freddie Love ❓ - Freddie-centric drabble collection.

Freddie Mercury/Brian May

As it Began ✅ - Freddie goes to write his dissertation at Brian's house. (Smile Era, boys with a crush, friendship, first kiss, angst, hurt/comfort)

Blacklight in Zero Gravity (18+)  ❓ - It's 2029, Freddie Mercury is working as a stripper and one night, the mysterious Brian May walks into his life. (Modern AU, sex & drugs, pining, humour, angst, fluff, romance, morally grey characters, smut)

Click! ✅ - Freddie meets a guy he just can’t get off his mind at work. (Modern AU, photographer!Freddie, model!Brian, social media, humour, meet cute)

the sun and moon and stars are you ✅ - Freddie and Brian are expecting, and getting ready for a Halloween party. (trans!Freddie AU, pregnancy, humour, fluff)

The Sound of Your Fear ✅ - Brian and Freddie stay in a very creepy hotel. (Ghost story, terror, haunted house, platonic/pre-slash Maycury)

Dreams of Tomorrow (18+) [Maycury, Froger, Joger] 📝 - collab with @tikiniki​ A mad, medieval fantasy adventure with the Queen boys. (troubadour AU, adventure, fantasy, friendship, magic, origin stories, vikings, battles, a donkey called Tootsie)

Freddie Mercury/Jim Hutton

Maybe I’m Amazed ✅ - Freddie is upset about an argument with Jim, who surprises him. (Angst, hurt/comfort, romance and fluff)

Interlude ✅ - Freddie has a great time at his 39th birthday party - for the most part. (Angst, non-consentual drug use, hopeful ending)

Sticks and Stones ✅ - Freddie reads a headline she wishes she hadn’t seen. (Fem!Jimercury, body image, fluff, happy ending)

Other Ships

Dawn of the Living Dead (18+) [Poly!Queen & Froger] ❓ - It's the zombie apocalypse in 1971. (horror, dark comedy, blood & gore, insanity, friendship, smut)

Kneel Down by Your Side and Pray [Maylor & Johnica] 🧊 - collab with @quirkysubject @tikiniki and @plainxte In a dystopian world where slavery is the norm, four young men struggle with their circumstances. (Dystopian AU, violence, blood & gore, sexual abuse, angst, friendship, hurt/no comfort, pining)

Sacrifice (18+) [Maylor] ✅ - Roger is being sacrificed to the God of Fertility. (Fantasy AU, humour, Monty Python-esque, technically non-con but not angsty, satire)

Colour Me Surprised [Joger] ✅ - Roger helps John with his make-up. (Yearning, gay panic)

a bona cackle [OMC/OMC, background Froger] ✅ - Dawn of Aquarius spin-off ficlet. A phone conversation in Polari. (Period-typical attitudes, queer history)

Gen

and the rest is history ✅ - The day John Deacon auditioned for Queen. 

lazing on a sunny afternoon  ✅ - A short, sweet fem!Queen ficlet.

The Sound and the Fury ✅ - collab with @quirkysubject​ Roger is struggling when the past catches up with him. Brian is a good friend. (hurt/comfort, friendship, angst)

Not Like Other Groups ✅ - Queen escape from an angry gang of skinheads by means of a car chase. (humour, friendship, action)

Maple Leaves ✅ - John struggles with Freddie’s illness. (heavy angst, death, grief)

Non-Fiction

Interview With A Queen “Groupie” - I interviewed a lady who knew the Queen boys back when she was at Ealing Art School. Yes, really.

[foramomentonly]

Nail in My Coffin, Part 7

Part One    Part Two    Part Three    Part Four    Part Five    Part Six

Summary: Alex and Kyle are fashion designers on a Next In Fashion style reality show. Michael is their model. Dom/sub elements. Prompt courtesy of @signoraviolettavalery .

Michael and Alex have a fight. It ends in “I love you.” 

TW: Discussion of child abuse and homophobia, implied PTSD

Author’s Note: It’s been a week. I know. And I know this might not be what you all want to read right now (or ever again), and that’s okay. I was writing this piece before this week happened and coming back to it gave me comfort, so I kept writing it. I’ll continue writing Malex and I’ll continue in this AU, as well. Love to you, friends.

Read on AO3

It’s a bad fight because it’s their first, and they don’t know the rules.

“Know what today is?” Michael asks, grinning into Alex’s face as he battles with the stubborn hem of Michael’s sleeve.

Alex presses his lips together like he’s trying not to smile bigger and glances up at Michael mildly.

“Do you know what day it is?” he smirks. “You don’t strike me as a calendar person.”

“It’s your birthday,” Michael continues on, undeterred.

“I know,” Alex replies indulgently. “I was there when you found out.”

He glares over his shoulder at Kyle. Kyle clearly hears him, but he stays diligently bent over his own work. Alex hadn’t breathed a word, let half the day go by like any other. But Kyle had accidentally blabbed to Liz, and Liz had run off to tell the producer on set, and the whole debacle had ended with the entire cast and crew singing “Happy Birthday,” and Michael hurriedly calling in a favor from his well-connected sister for surprise dinner reservations. 

Michael leans closer, brushing his nose against Alex’s temple.

"I think we should celebrate,” he murmurs in Alex’s ear. Alex tsks and lifts Michael’s arm impatiently to get at the bottom of the sleeve.

“Stand up straight,” he commands, and Michael does, but a dark look passes over his face.

“Anyway,” Michael goes on, “What about drinks and dinner?” He raises an eyebrow and grins. “I’ll throw in a birthday blow job. Time and location is up to you.”

Kyle flips off his machine and pivots off his chair in one fluid movement, calling, “Coffee,” over his shoulder as he practically sprints away.

Michael smirks.

 "Finally.“ 

He looks down at Alex, expecting to find his dark eyes bright with mirth. He doesn’t exactly condone Micael’s teasing attempts to make Kyle uncomfortable, but he also doesn’t hide his amusement. This time, though, Alex is staring stonily at the hem of Michael’s sleeve, seemingly caught up in his work. But Michael sees how his eyes flit back and forth restlessly, and he knows Alex is deliberately avoiding eye contact. Michael furrows his brow, confused and bit frustrated.

“Alex,” he says through his teeth, “tonight? What do you think?”

Alex’s mouth is a thin line, his jaw tense.

“It’s not a good idea,” he says. 

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not,” Alex grits, his voice loud and commanding and filled with finality. It’s the tone that usually turns Michael’s spine liquid and replaces the chaos of his mind with peaceful, focused clarity. This time it grates in his chest like nails on a chalkboard, and he returns Alex’s cold stare with the full force of his heated glare.

“This isn’t a scene,” he hisses. “You don’t get to make all the decisions.”

“It’s my birthday,” Alex replies, “I absolutely do have final say in how I spend it.”

“Fine,” Michael spits, exasperated by Alex’s obstinance. “But what’s the big deal? Everybody knows about us, we’re not even trying to hide it anymore. Would it be so bad if we acted like a real couple?”

“Yes!” Alex cries, his voice a mixture of insistence and panic, and something in Michael caves, gives in, and he stops fighting in favor of sinking deep into the overwhelming disappointment and frustration weighing him down like an anchor. Alex searches his face, his lips parting as he lets out a breath and starts to speak.

“Michael-”

“Don’t bother,” he huffs, “let’s just get this over with.”

Alex straightens his spine, his features shifting as the emotion falls from his face and a cool mask of indifference slips into place.

“Left arm up,” he orders, but Michael shakes his head, glaring straight ahead.

“Do not give me orders right now,” he hisses. Alex regards him cooly for a brief moment before turning on his heel and striding away. A few minutes later, Kyle returns to their station, a silent apology evident in the shrug of his shoulders, and he finishes the rest of Alex’s work in silence.

***

Alex doesn’t speak to Michael the rest of the day. He doesn’t return to his work station until after Kyle has released Michael, and whether it’s by fate or by design, they don’t call him back for a second fitting. Michael watches as absolutely no one suggests so much as a birthday drink to Alex, but from a distance, he can see that Alex is perfectly content in his isolation. Alex isn’t especially outgoing or demonstrative, Michael’s always known that. But their connection was instantaneous, almost cosmic, and Michael had assumed Alex was making other, if fewer relationships on set. He never realized until now how rare personal interaction actually is for Alex outside of himself and Kyle. He watches Alex back at the hotel share a quiet meal with Kyle at the bar and accept a hug from Liz, his gaze following Alex’s stiff form across the room and toward the elevator bay. He realizes if he wants any kind of resolution tonight, Michael has to go to him.

***

Alex answers the door wearing the same carefully neutral expression he had when he’d walked away from Michael earlier in the day, and Michael feels like ice water is seeping into his veins.

“Can we talk?” he asks, and Alex steps aside so he can pass into the room.

 They stand in silence, facing one another across the length of the bed like opponents in a duel. Alex is fully dressed, prosthesis still on, but his eyes are tired and a little bloodshot, and his hair is unkempt, like he’s been running his fingers through it carelessly. Michael wonders how many drinks he had with dinner. Still, his stance is firm and steady, and when he finally speaks, his voice is clear.

“So,” he says, not quite meeting Michael’s eye, “what do you want to talk about?”

Michael scoffs.

“Are you kidding?” he asks, voice already rising. “You left, Alex. I don’t know what the fuck happened, but you just left.”

Alex shrugs.

“I needed space,” he says, “and you clearly didn’t want me there.”

“Then you say you need some time,” Michael insists. “You don’t just walk away.”

“Why are you trying to push this?” Alex demands suddenly, brow furrowed in anger, and he finally meets Michael’s gaze with a resentful glare. “We’re together, we’re not hiding. Suddenly that’s not enough?”

Michael shakes his head, running a hand through his messy curls. 

“Apparently not,” he cries, throwing his arms in the air, “cuz I still feel like a side piece.”

Alex takes a step back, expression incredulous.

“What?” he spits.

“First we had to keep it secret because of the show. Now everyone knows, but you still don’t want to leave the hotel with me for some reason? I feel like I’m your side chick and I’m just letting you string me along like an idiot, making promises I know you’re not gonna keep!”

“I’ve never promised you anything,” Alex says coldly.

Michael scoffs.

“Believe me, I know.”

“And don’t pretend like you don’t love being my dirty little secret,” Alex says, his voice glacial.

"Jesus Christ, Alex,” Michael groans, fisting a hand in his already chaotic hair, “I love you, but what the fuck am I supposed to say to that?”

“What?" 

"I said what do you expect me to say?” Michael cries, shoulders raised and arms outstretched as though to catch an answer tumbling out of the sky.

“No, y-you—you said—”

Michael pauses, thinks back, and recognition dawns. He squares his shoulders.

“I said what I said,” he admits softly. 

“Me, too,” Alex replies with a ridiculously formal nod.

“What?”

“I-I love you, too.”

Michael feels the air rush out of him, along with all the bones in his body, and he steps forward, opening his arms to Alex. Alex takes a hesitant step back.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to hold you,” Michael answers incredulously. Then, softer, he asks, “Is that okay with you?”

He waits until Alex nods, stepping hesitantly into his arms. Michael wraps his long limbs around Alex’s shoulders, feels Alex run his palms over his back and, after a moment, press his face into Michael’s wild curls.

“I’m sorry,” Michael breathes, and he’s surprised to feel a wet lump in his throat making his voice shake. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. I just—I want you, Alex. I want all of you, all the time. I love you and I—”

Alex shakes his head, pulling away only far enough to cup Michael’s jaw, to steady him with the dark, calming pools of his eyes. 

“This isn’t about you, it’s me,” he says, leaning in to press a tender kiss to the corner of Michael’s mouth before moving away, lowering himself into the desk chair behind him and sitting forward, elbows resting on his knees. Michael misses his touch, his proximity, instantly, but he drops onto the corner of the bed, accepting Alex’s unspoken request for space.

“I didn’t grow up in a safe home,” Alex begins in that even, disconnected tone Michael knows means this story will not be a happy one. “My father is military. My three older brothers are, too. Growing up with them was. Well. It was very obvious very quickly that I was gay and not interested in carrying on the family legacy. The abuse was constant, unpredictable. Verbal, emotional. Physical.” 

Michael’s brow furrows, but he stays silent. Alex takes a deep breath through his nose, exhales slowly through his open mouth, and continues. 

“When I was seventeen I was at a stalemate with my dad. I was not gonna join up and he was not going to pay for college. But I had a boyfriend. I thought if I could just ride out the summer I could follow him when he went to school. We could be together, get an apartment. I could work.” Alex shrugs. “We were in love. On my birthday, we were fooling around in this old shed at the back of my dad’s property. He caught us. I—” Alex swallows, finishes his story in a rush. “It was bad. I don’t remember most of it. The next day he drove me to the recruitment office.”

Michael nods, absorbing and processing while Alex gazes at him with an unnerving calm.

“So, you don’t like to celebrate your birthday?” Michael asks, and Alex shakes his head slowly. “And—and does your dad know about the show? Your work?”

Alex sighs.

“He knows what me and Kyle are doing, yeah,” Alex says softly, “but I need to be careful. I don’t court attention. And I don’t want you and I to become a fucking storyline. I know he can’t hurt me anymore, he can’t hurt us, but sometimes I’m still so goddamn afraid—” 

Alex cuts himself off, shaking his head firmly and taking deep, even breaths to steady his trembling frame.

“So, can I ask you a stupid question?” Michael says softly once Alex has regained his composure. 

Alex nods.

“The boyfriend,” he says hesitantly, “was it Kyle?”

Alex laughs. Not his genuine laugh, the one that scrunches up his nose and makes him look so painfully young and carefree. But his shoulders relax and voice grows stronger.

“No,” he says, “definitely not Kyle. Kyle’s like a brother to me. A real brother. He—he’s been a constant. Just always there. Always backing me up.” He laughs, a little lighter. “Always calling me on my shit.”

“I got one of those,” Michael murmurs. “Isobel. My sister.”

“Sister?” Alex asks, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs, more at ease now that the focus is off of him.

“Well, adopted. Well, sort of,” Michael stammers. “We were found together, on the side of the road, when we were little. Me, Isobel, and her twin brother, Max. We all went into a group home. They got adopted, I went into the system. But Max and Isobel, they found me a few years later. They’re my family.”

“How long were you in foster care?” Alex asks.

“Only until I got the fuck outta there,” Michael mutters, and Alex tilts his head and shifts foward again in his seat, an unspoken question. “I had some bad placements. Fundamentalists. Drunks. Went through some of the same shit you did. When I was sixteen I traded a mechanic work for an old truck. Fixed it up. Slept in the bed.” He pauses, adds with characteristic flourish, “Under the stars.”

“Where was all this?”

“Albuquerque.”

Alex blinks, a smile pulling at his lips, and shakes his head ruefully.

“What?”

“I grew up in Roswell.”

Michael grins.

“I got placed there for a minute,” he says, “but the family moved out of state.”

“So, in another lifetime we might have grown up together?”

Michael reaches a hesitant hand out between them and Alex takes it easily, allows himself to be tugged up to stand between Michael’s legs. Michael grips Alex’s hips and rests his chin on Alex’s stomach, wide eyes gazing up at him.

“I bet I would have been all over you in high school,” he murmurs.

Alex laughs, threads his fingers through Michael’s hair and scratches his nails lightly against his scalp. Michael’s eyes fall shut.

“Doubtful. I was totally emo in high school,” he says. “Black nail polish, septum piercing. The works.”

Michael drags the tip of his nose down Alex’s abdomen, presses a kiss just under his belly button.

“Hot,” he mumbles into the fabric of Alex’s shirt. “Tell me you wore eyeliner and I’m building a time machine.”

“I love you,” Alex breathes, and he uses his grip on Michael’s curls to tilt his head up. “I’m fucked up and I shut down and I fucking hate talking about shit I really should be talking about. But I love you and I don’t want you to think that I don’t want this. I want to be with you.”

Michael releases a shaky breath, eyes wet and shining golden, and shakes his head.

“It isn’t just you that fucked up. I got my own shit,” he admits. “I’ve been left too many times to not freak out when someone walks away from me. I don’t always do so well with the whole concept of ‘space.’”

Alex laughs.

“So basically we’re doomed?”

“Yup.” Michael grins, slipping his hands up under Alex’s shirt. “Wanna go out with a bang, Captain?”

“Ohmygod,” Alex laughs, pressing his palms against Michael’s shoulders and forcing him back onto the bed, settling beside him. Michael slides his leg between Alex’s, cups Alex’s cheek and presses their brows together.

“I love you,” he whispers, gravitating closer to Alex’s lips with every breath. “Ha—Can I say it?”

Alex brushes his lips against Michael’s and smiles, eyes already half closed.

“ I’ll allow it,” he breathes.

“Happy birthday.”

[mci-writing]

NSFW Alphabet list: Bakuhoe Edition

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Aggressive cuddles. Like, they're really soft and warm. Probably drags s/o to a shower or bath and just chills for a moment.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Himself: His hands because he can just do so much with them

Theirs: Ass. He's an ass man

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Katsuki really likes cumming on his s/o. Just the sight of his cum on ssomeone feels like a reward to him, seeing them all dirty in his own undoing. Same with cumming inside. If he thinks about he long enough while they're getting down, cumming inside just feels so relieving to him, but he won't do it unless they're in a comfortable place for such in their relationship. May cum inside on accident just from getting too into it.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves to bottom occasionally. Very rarely will he let someone dom him, but when he does, woo!

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Has a little bit experience probably. He has a powerful quirk and was somewhat social in school, girls probably threw themselves at him if he just looked at them. Might not have much physical and intimate experience, but he's seen various parts and details and has probably watched porn in incognito just as much as the rest of us dirty children.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Katsuki takes many things seriously and this is one of them. He may laugh or chuckle with his s/o in the moment occasionally, but usually its degrading or meant to be sexy. Now, if s/o does something worth laughing about, he'll laugh, but not for long cause he feels he could ruin the moment if done wrong.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Oh boy, it sure does match the drapes. He feels that unruly pubic hair gets in the way and gets really uncomfortable in his hero suit, so he keeps it groomed, but just enough to not bother him.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

He can be intimate if his s/o wants. Sometimes, he may slow down to make the moment last longer. Just seeing them in such a state of ecstacy and knowing he's doing such a thing to them may dawn on him in the middle of wrecking them and he just slows down to stare at them. Maybe some light kisses and bites if he's feeling it. He feels marking as an intimate practice too, so he leaves lots of hickies in visible places as a form of having some part of him always close to them. He's trying, leave him alone

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He's not big on it, since he finds it a little embarrassing at times, but he does it a decent amount. It's hard to catch him in the act though and it's never obvious afterward

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise (receiving and giving) and degradation (giving and receiving to a small extent) are two big ones. I can also see him being a big fan of hearing s/o beg a lot and maybe some name calling/ddlg (or master/servant, etc.) but not too much to where it's a little weird

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

It changes every week. NEXT!

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Praise him just right and you're fucked. Quite literally. Call his name a couple times, compliment his skills, mention how much you enjoy it, call him the best for crying out loud. He'll just keep going on and on

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Don't mention someone else, like at all. It just upsets him.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

It really depends. He understands some people prefer foreplay and others don't really want to just jump into sex, but he also sees it as a waste of time sometimes. Don't get me wrong though, he loves receiving it! He'll take charge of that too though and just becomes a messy boomy boi. He does like giving too, but he won't admit it. He could get off to just knowing he's just that good at using his mouth and being able to cause his s/o to unravel in such a way. It flusters him a lot, but he gets over it quick enough for it to be unnoticeable, most of the time anyway.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He's hella fast and hella rough, but he tries not to hurt s/o unless they're into that kinda thing. If asked, he'll attempt keeping it slow and sensual, but then he might get into it and just Oof.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He's pretty open to them, probably even going the extra mile and edging s/o on. They turn him on and just get him really excited for later. Would especially enjoy them and do them more on duty.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

It's Katsuki Bakugou, of course he takes risks! He's very willingly to take risks and more than likely comes up with the idea.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Katsuki can go all night and he's going to make sure his s/o can too! Like they can only get a bit of rest and then he's all "Alright, get the fuck up"

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He has them, but really only uses them for teasing purposes. Like, why use a toy when he's got all they need and more in his pants? He's open to using them on himself, but really prefers his s/o.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Biggest tease there is. He loves teasing and edging. If he feels s/o isn't begging enough, he'll only get worse until they're absolutely writhing under him

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Mainly small grunts and groans. He'll swear under his breath a lot too. It's not loud, but it's not really quiet either.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Really enjoys seeing his s/o dressed up. When he's bored, he just imagines ripping their clothes off. He also really enjoys fondling them in public out of boredom. Sitting in class or on a bus beside each other for an hour? Better be prepared for them fingers

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He thicc but not too much in length. Long enough to get work done but thicc enough that you'd think he's got a long dong when it's in you

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Almost as high as his ego

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Depends honestly. He always ensures he falls asleep after his s/o though (the competitive bastard). There are special occasions where he falls asleep right after s/o, but he's usually up an hour past them sleeping so eh.

[richincolor]

New Releases

We have five new titles for you this week with quite a wide variety of topics and genres.

When You Were Everything by Ashley Woodfolk Delacorte

You can’t rewrite the past, but you can always choose to start again.

It’s been twenty-seven days since Cleo and Layla’s friendship imploded.

Nearly a month since Cleo realized they’ll never be besties again.

Now, Cleo wants to erase every memory, good or bad, that tethers her to her ex–best friend. But pretending Layla doesn’t exist isn’t as easy as Cleo hoped, especially after she’s assigned to be Layla’s tutor. Despite budding new friendships with other classmates—and a raging crush on a gorgeous boy named Dom—Cleo’s turbulent past with Layla comes back to haunt them both.

Alternating between time lines of Then and Now, When You Were Everything blends past and present into an emotional story about the beauty of self-forgiveness, the promise of new beginnings, and the courage it takes to remain open to love. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Harley in the Sky by Akemi Dawn Bowman Ink Road

Harley Milano has dreamed of being a trapeze artist for as long as she can remember. With parents who run a famous circus in Las Vegas, she spends almost every night in the big top watching their lead aerialist perform, wishing with all her soul that she could be up there herself one day.

After a huge fight with her parents, who continue to insist she go to school instead, Harley leaves home, betrays her family and joins the rival traveling circus Maison du Mystère. There, she is thrust into a world that is both brutal and beautiful, where she learns the value of hard work, passion and collaboration. But at the same time, Harley must come to terms with the truth of her family and her past—and reckon with the sacrifices she made and the people she hurt in order to follow her dreams. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

A Phoenix First Must Burn edited by Patrice Caldwell Viking Books for Young Readers

Sixteen tales by bestselling and award-winning authors that explore the Black experience through fantasy, science fiction, and magic.

Evoking Beyoncé’s Lemonade for a teen audience, these authors who are truly Octavia Butler’s heirs, have woven worlds to create a stunning narrative that centers Black women and gender nonconforming individuals. A Phoenix First Must Burn will take you on a journey from folktales retold to futuristic societies and everything in between. Filled with stories of love and betrayal, strength and resistance, this collection contains an array of complex and true-to-life characters in which you cannot help but see yourself reflected. Witches and scientists, sisters and lovers, priestesses and rebels: the heroines of A Phoenix First Must Burn shine brightly. You will never forget them.

Authors include Elizabeth Acevedo, Amerie, Dhonielle Clayton, Jalissa Corrie, Somaiya Daud, Charlotte Davis, Alaya Dawn Johnson, Justina Ireland, Danny Lore, L.L. McKinney, Danielle Paige, Rebecca Roanhorse, Karen Strong, Ashley Woodfolk, and Ibi Zoboi. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You by Jason Reynolds, Ibram X. Kendi Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

A timely, crucial, and empowering exploration of racism–and antiracism–in America

This is NOT a history book. This is a book about the here and now. A book to help us better understand why we are where we are. A book about race.

The construct of race has always been used to gain and keep power, to create dynamics that separate and silence. This remarkable reimagining of Dr. Ibram X. Kendi’s National Book Award-winning Stamped from the Beginning reveals the history of racist ideas in America, and inspires hope for an antiracist future. It takes you on a race journey from then to now, shows you why we feel how we feel, and why the poison of racism lingers. It also proves that while racist ideas have always been easy to fabricate and distribute, they can also be discredited.

Through a gripping, fast-paced, and energizing narrative written by beloved award-winner Jason Reynolds, this book shines a light on the many insidious forms of racist ideas–and on ways readers can identify and stamp out racist thoughts in their daily lives.

Fight Like a Girl by Sheena Kamal Penguin Teen

The Beauty of the Moment meets Exit, Pursued by a Bear. Award-winning thriller writer Sheena Kamal delivers a kick-ass debut YA novel that will have fans crying out for more.

Love and violence. In some families they’re bound up together, dysfunctional and poisonous, passed from generation to generation like eye color or a quirk of smile. Trisha’s trying to break the chain, channeling her violent impulses into Muay Thai kickboxing, an unlikely sport for a slightly built girl of Trinidadian descent. Her father comes and goes as he pleases, his presence adding a layer of tension to Toronto’s east-end townhouse Trisha and her mom call home, every punch he lands on her mother carving itself indelibly into Trisha’s mind. Until the night he wanders out drunk in front of the car Trisha is driving, practicing on her learner’s permit, her mother in the passenger seat. Her father is killed, and her mother seems strangely at peace. Lighter, somehow. Trisha doesn’t know exactly what happened that night, but she’s afraid it’s going to happen again. Her mom has a new man in her life and the patterns, they are repeating.

[mars-incorrect-quotes]

Dawn: I think Leora mixed up our school lunches. Look.

Dawn: *holds up a post-it note that says "I love you so much"*

Dom: Oh, that explains this.

Dom: *holds up a post-it note that says "Please be good. For the love of God be good"*

[giasonesdream]

The Center Console Does Nothing To Support You (Bad Behavior 2 Part Series)

Summary: You and Jeongguk come from a wealthy background. That doesn’t stop your boyfriend from getting into activities he has no business in. All you can do is support him, encourage his bad behaviors with questionable acts of your own. (Explicit)

Word Count: (I’ll be right by your side, ‘til) 3009 

tagged: Jungkook x Reader, drag racing!AU, Smut, road head, exhibitionism, dom/sub undertones

Lake Shore Drive after Rush Hour is beautiful, empty. That, plus the added late night summer air rushing through rolled down windows, it all makes you feel weightless, free, adventurous.

But tonight’s adventure is not really one of your own, but your boyfriend, who sits behind the wheel with one hand gripping the tattered leather and the other rubbing at your bare thigh. It’s a situation you two have been in more than a handful of times this summer, sneaking out of the gated community of your north side homes, travelling the half hour path to get to your friends waiting for you on the south side, your and Jeongguk’s safe haven. On eroded streets littered with potholes and weeds growing from sidewalk cracks is where you feel the most at ease.

Electricity thrums from the palm wrapped around your skin. Jeongguk is excited for the race tonight, ready to show his friends how much he has improved since their last one. You truly have no interest, unaffected by your boyfriend’s competitive side. You have been with him too long to care, but also because you know your disinterest makes him work even harder to win.

You will not lie to yourself, the dynamic of your relationship with Jeongguk must seem a little odd from an outsider’s perspective (hell, even some of the older boys in Jeongguk’s group would question him to the umpteenth degree), but it is one the both of you are very comfortable with. You and he are equals, and for the most part, you come across as best friends; not all that big on PDA besides the times either of you are feeling more introverted or needy, choosing to glue to the other’s side. And the banter is endless, sometimes quipped and hard to tell if you’re joking or not, sometimes so over the top and dramatic no one could possibly mistake you two for just being typical young adults in love.

There’s a lurch in the car as he speeds down the rather empty expressway, and you subtly eye the needle and see it push towards 75 mph. With a sigh, you continue scrolling through your phone.

“Try not to get us or yourself killed tonight, Jeon,” you mutter nonchalantly. “You know you don’t get anything if you win this stupid race, right?”

Jeongguk scoffs next to you, and you don’t even have to turn to see the offended look on his face. “Um, bragging rights is what I would win, [y/n].”

Right, because Jeon Jeongguk, Certified Shy Dork, would totally use the bragging rights with anyone but you (you, who does not give a shit). You tear your eyes away from your screen to stare him down until he feels it.

The street lights trail across his face, accentuating the roundness if his cheeks, the slope of his nose, the sharpness of his jaw, and it takes all of your strength to remember why you chose to glare at him in this moment.

He feels it soon enough, your eyes on his profile, and he chances a glance over in your direction before focusing back on the road. “What?”

“Jeongguk, you don’t have to impress these guys. They like you. You’re in their little gang.” Though you are neither here nor there when it comes to his new choice of friends, you understand his desire to fit in, to have them like him. It would be adorable if he wasn’t partaking in an...illegal form of entertainment.

You hear him scoff again, twitching at the way he involuntarily kneads your thigh. You must have hit the nail on the head, as you usually do. “I’m not trying to impress them,” he denies, not even sounding confident to himself.

You give another sigh, this one not as noticeable. You and Jeongguk were born and raised Northsiders, living a rather privileged life with proper allowances for taking out the trash and not worrying about getting sick because health insurance is a thing. Of course Jeongguk would want to make these guys think he could hang, “get down and dirty” as he had said unironically one time.

You pat the hand that’s still firmly on your leg, rubbing mindlessly at the sturdiness of his forearm before covering the top of his hand with your own, playing with the fingers. You can feel his nerves become restless as you continue to fret with his fingers, pulling at them only for them to snap back into place against the skin cloaked in warmth.

“Issue?” you hear him ask, his previous laxed state becoming more and more wired.

You give a pout you know he won’t notice, turning in your seat to practically face him head on. “Ggukie, your hands are getting clammy,” you whine, only slightly teasing. It truly did gross you out a tad when his furnace of a body would get sweaty at too much contact.

With a smirk, he loosens his grip only to move his palm further up your thigh. And normally, you would push him away, cringe away from the humid touch- but his fingers skirt on the inside of your thigh as they run higher and higher, and your legs jerk together at the barely there stimulation.

Jeon Jeongguk had been a special case, never going a moment in his 22 years of living when he wasn’t getting attention from women. You distinctly remember when you both were children, how your mother and aunt would fawn over the adorable runt, how small and pure he looked.

“Oh, [y,n], don’t you think little Jeonggukie is cute?” they would ask you, heart eyes too prevalent for your liking. It made you roll your eyes and turn your nose up at the boy.

And even through his awkward teenage years, he still got the attention because he was still adorable, or that is what your friends and mother say. He was just Jeongguk. Always had been. It hadn’t dawned on you that maybe the girls in your school had a point until one day he came over to visit you, and suddenly you opened the door and had to look...up. That was at the age of nineteen, when you first realized that yeah, Jeon Jeongguk was an eyeful and more (cue the flustered, bumbling idiot you became).

And here he sits now, one strong hand easily steering the leather bound wheel while another built arm is stretched to constantly be touching you, and really, how can someone look so hot doing so little?

He’s right there, you think to yourself, mindlessly chewing at your bottom lip as you contemplate your next move. The lights still dance over his face, illuminating his features in the dark of night in a lazy rhythm. He really is right there. All you have to do is lean over and…

You place a peck on his cheek, pulling back a bit to check his reaction, testing the waters. He seems unfazed by the gesture, only half of his lips tugging up in a smile. So you go back in again, leaving open mouthed kisses that trail down his jaw. You don’t realize the grip you have on the wrist connected to the hand still trapped between your legs until you let go to pull at your seatbelt.

With a quick glance, you look outside the windows, making sure there isn’t a car riding besides you (fuck anyone behind you). And since the coast is clear (enough), you let your hand slide over to his jean clad legs, the other hand finding balance on the leather console between you two.

“Holy shit!” Jeongguk shouts, urgency in his voice enough to make you flinch away in panic.

“What? What?!” You ask frantically, checking the road around you, slamming yourself to duck your head out the window. You swear to god, if Jeongguk hurt an animal-

“Were you about to blow me?”

As his words slowly catch up with your brain, you turn back to glare at him, eyes squinted and tongue poking in your cheek. His expression is a mixture of wide-eyed shock and an eager smile.

You speak too calmly for comfort, obviously hiding your irritation with being interrupted. “I was...planning. On it.”

That does nothing to change his face. He only glances at you, huffing out a laugh. “That’s a real thing?”

...Did he seriously just ask you if roadhead is a real thing? “What?”

With a defensive shrug, he explains. “I just...I thought that only happened in movies and fanfiction.”

Leaning against the passenger door, you scrutinize your boyfriend, pushing his hand away from you. Leave it to him to ruin the moment with his very unsexy antics. “Whose fanfiction are you reading?”

Jeongguk sputters for a second, the streetlights catching the gaping look on his face. “I...pfft, is that part important? At least, right now?”

You want to interrogate him, watch him get flustered with the idea of having to admit one dirty little secret you seemed to not know. But, unfortunately (or very fortunately, depending on how you look at it), he’s still very hot and still very much mouthwatering in probably the most naughtiest of ways.

You can curse your hormones later.

You crawl back into your previous position, noting how Jeongguk leans his head to give you more room to lick, mouth and bite at the skin of his neck. You barely miss the way his eyes flutter, and you snap instantly.

“If you don’t keep your fucking eyes and focus on the road I will climb into the backseat, I swear to god, Jeon,” comes the hissing threat. At his frantic nod, your lips fall back to his throat with more fervor, frustration building at having to stop so many times. It shows in the way your teeth bite harshly into the meat of his neck, sadistically satisfied with the air he sucks in through his teeth.

Your palm goes back to work, breezing through the foreplay of feathering up the inside of his thigh and quickly palming at the semi-hard length in his pants. You’re sure he feels the smug grin against his neck; how sensitive your boyfriend is, how worked up he gets for you so easily. It sends a shot of lust to your own core to know you affect him so.

When you try to shift closer, the seatbelt locks, and you huff again, having to pull away to shove it off of you so you can try and mold the upper half of your body to his as best you can with a goddamn console still there and immobile.

You are quite skilled, nimbly undoing the buttons and zipper of his jeans so you can stuff your hand down his underwear. The hissed “shit” he whispers only makes you thrum with more excitement. You have lost count of how many times you have done this, worked your hand up and down his cock (Jeongguk could probably tell you because, underneath this sexy exterior he sometimes wears, he is always 100% A Dork Trademark). You have become an expert, collecting the precum that pools at the tip when he’s finally completely hard and hot in your closed palm. Though the precum acts as a decent lubricate, you both know a more effective way of getting him dripping wet. You give a slow lick at the sensitive spot behind his ear, biting back a smile at his heavy exhale, before you finally lower your mouth to breathe against the head of his aching member.

It takes some maneuvering, getting into a somewhat comfortable position where your ribs aren’t entirely digging into the console. There’s still a pinch, but it’s manageable; and really, feeling the way the smallest shiver shoots up Jeongguk’s spine when you wrap your tongue around the underside of his cock just makes it worth it. You repeat the action, letting the tip of your tongue get caught under the head before wrapping your lips around it completely. With one hand wrapped around the base, you move your mouth lower and lower, always licking until the head rests at the back of your tongue. Your gag reflex betrays you when you try to inch downwards, closing up and making you pull off to breathe.

Your reflexes can be a bit finicky, sometimes wanting to cooperate, sometimes wanting to be a complete and utter bitch to work with (“so, a lot like your personality, as a whole,” Jeongguk would say, which would result in a smack to his shoulder). But you keep your tongue moving, leaving kitten licks at the crown while your throat calms down enough so you could try again.

You take your time, ignoring your own eagerness, as you suck your way down his length, making sure to breathe heavily through your nose and keep your throat open until- success.

The center console presses against your lungs, and your other hand scrapes the leather as you try to focus on the way he hits the back of your throat. With another steady breath, you experiment with swallowing around him.

You feel the car swerve and you yank your head off his cock, yelling his name angrily, though your throat is a bit scratchy. Your body lurches to the side as he jerks the car back to its straight position.

“Fuck, sorry,” he apologizes with a tight voice, weaving his fingers into the tresses of your hair. “It’s just...your mouth.”

You think any other time you would flattered, maybe even a bit cocky with how he submits when you’re the one with his dick in your mouth. But you would very much like to live, or at least not die with his dick out and have the firemen find you in this rather precarious position.

You don’t regard his apology, simply opting to go back to your previous task. The air rushes outside, but it doesn’t mask the slick sounds that accompany you coating his dick in your saliva, mixing with the salty precum that beads at the top whenever you go just a bit lower than usual.

He does a lot better when you decide to try for deepthroating again, electing to tighten his grip on your head and stuttering out a groan when you swallow a few times around him. You even congratulate yourself when you don’t choke as he bucks his hips up, desperate to go deeper in the wet, tight heat of your throat.

You’re a mess, spit dribbling from the tight seal of your lips and smearing down your chin and your hand; it’s fucking hot. The heat swirls and knots in the pit of your stomach when he accidentally pushes your head down, moaning out another frantic apology. It takes you a second, but you’re finally pulling your hand away from the base, confident that you can steady yourself enough to fit the last few inches down your throat.

“Shit, shit!” Jeongguk tries to bite back the noises, successful up until you pull up to suck tightly around the head. In the back of your mind, you notice that the air outside the car has eased, meaning you must be off the expressway and onto the side streets that take you to your destination. You must be close.

You suck with a purpose, moaning and rubbing your thighs together because you won’t have time to get yourself off. You hear his faint warning, the “gon-gonna cum, [y,n]-” as you keep your lips secured around the tip, bringing your hand back to stroke the length now completely saturated with spit and precum.

His breathing is heavy, and you chance a glance to look up to see his brows furrowed together, jaw slack as noises get caught in his throat. Right before he cums, his mouth snaps shut, teeth biting into his bottom lip and his muscles tense. Your eyes flutter shut when his seed coats your mouth, not giving yourself a chance to taste too much before you swallow it down. Your hand still twists up his cock, milking him for all he’s worth until the last remnants dribble pathetically against your tongue.

You give one last lick, holding back a giggle when he tries to flinch away from the overstimulation. With a final kiss to hiss check, you fall back into your passenger seat, rubbing at your ribs as you try to will down the lust that makes you throb in your shorts.

“Shit, [y/n].” Jeongguk’s voice pitches at the end, his tone showing just how wrecked he is. You’re sure you would sound the same if you spoke, so you only nod.

The road you’re on now is familiar, the asphalt getting bumpier and holier the further along you go. You’re almost there.

Still not trusting your voice, you only give your boyfriend a look when he suddenly pulls over to the curb, shifting the gear into park and leaning over the console to drag you into a sloppy, open mouthed kiss.

You swallow his groan, and you’re sure he can still taste himself on your tongue. When he finally pulls away with a tug of your bottom lip, he grits out, “Your turn.”

When the hand that had been on the steering wheel comes to your knee, you can ignore the dampness of his palm in lieu of how he tugs your legs open.

“What about-” you pause to clear your throat. “What about the drag race?”

Jeongguk clicks his tongue. “They won’t start without me. Besides, you can be my goodluck charm.” He beams up with a smile that seems so pure, you honestly can’t believe this boy is your boyfriend, the boyfriend - who still has his goddamn dick out -ready to finger you.

“Tch, fucking better win,” you mumble as he tugs at the buttons of your shorts. “Drag me all the way out here for nothing.”

You both knew your words were empty. Away from your homes on summer nights like these, this was your safe haven, paradise.

A/N: I haven’t watched the new episode of Bon Voyage, but I’ve been seeing gifs of Jeongguk driving and welp. Here ya go. This is the first part to a two part series. Hopefully I can finish the second half sometime soon.

[iphoenixrising]

Window Seat

My soulmate @satire-please deserves all the love, so a bit more little Timmy with the Bats from here.

 **

The house is always quiet. Even when his mom and dad were home or Mrs. Mac was in the kitchen when he got home from school, the upstairs is always silent, like the museums where his parents donate what they find on digs. He thinks it’s always been like that.

No one ever goes to the upstairs attic, though. The dust is thick and settled, its’ own niche in Drake Manor. There’s one window to look out the back yard and off into the sea (and if you looked really, really hard, you could almost see Wayne Manor up on the bluffs, a dark silhouette in the dawn). The nights he didn’t go out into Gotham with his camera, he usually wound up here, squeezed into the non-existent seat to watch for the headlights of the large, black car that was unmistakable even in full dark.

And tonight, a few days after Robin saved him from a bad fall, and the extraordinary turn of events that put him in their direct path rather than an outsider that just knew their secret, he’s still waiting. At the time, he grudgingly turned over the box of photographs when Robin (Jason) and Nightwing (Dick) brought him home. They were working a hard case and would be gone for a few days, so he did what he was probably expected to do: promised to go to school and stay out of trouble.

He hasn’t gone out into Gotham, and hasn’t heard or bothered them since.  Which…is okay. It’s not a problem for him. He’s used to these kinds of things. Promises from grownups that never come to fruition. Coming home for his birthday. Taking him with them during Christmas break. Being there for the Science Fair.

Sometimes expectations fail. Sometimes you need another plan. Sometimes other things have to take precedent. All the real world truths.

So, it’s really okay. He gets it.

The vigilantes didn’t expect a kid to figure them out, not when they’ve got the whole world fooled. It makes sense they would want to give him something to look forward to, a “reward” for keeping quiet about their secret identities. (And it isn’t like he doesn’t realize how dangerous it is to know, how many of Batman’s enemies would come looking for him just to get the secret, how dangerous he is to them now just because he was too smart for his own good. He’s…he’s a liability.)

By the second night with no word, he’s convinced himself the whole thing is going to amount to checking in on him quarterly to make sure he keeps out of trouble, doesn’t call any attention to himself or them. It’s the adult thing to do. So, he’s going to give it a few weeks, wait until they’ve all but forgotten, and go back to his old haunts. He’ll have to be more careful they don’t catch him so he can’t slip up and accidentally almost kill himself again.

It’ll be fine. He’s got darker clothes to stay closer to the shadows and has been tinkering around with a shooting grapple gun like Robin used. He thinks he might have figured it out, but testing is really going to be the problem.

And…and it is fine (it’s disappointing but inevitable). They didn’t need some kid hanging around when they had criminals to stop and a city to save.

He’s sleepily convinced himself it was all for the best, he already had the one chance to live the life and shouldn’t be too greedy because the reality is nothing but trouble could come from stepping into their world. He could get hurt or die, he could get them hurt if he got caught and they had to come save him. Or they would finally get tired of dealing with him, his endless questions and terrible hand/eye coordination, his fanboy awe and clumsy stumbles, the odd moments when he can fit in the most awkward spaces to hide (like right now).

Eventually…it be the same as with his mom and dad. They’d just start leaving.

Tim sighs and forces himself to be reasonable because of course it’s better this way. Nothing would change (it’s okay, it could be worse). Besides, it was better than never coming back.

Right?

When the rumbling goes by the house, goes further, deeper into the woods, toward the only other home, he can let his eyes slide closed, glad they made it back from another night, and let himself drift off a little. No school tomorrow, no Mrs. Mac, no reason to get up early and make an appearance.

He’d probably read more on the coding manual he’d picked up from the library, ride his bike into the city for pizza and to hang out with Ives, then come back home before his curfew. He would wait it out a few weeks and then jump back to old habits, keeping out of their way, and staying in the shadows. Life would just—

Go on.

The world gets fuzzy and soft and dark, and even with the minor ache in his neck and back from the odd angle, even in the quiet upstairs, even though he knows it’s too cold to be sleeping up here, the dream starts out anyway…

“—glad we found him, Big Wing.” That’s…that’s Jason, isn’t it? (Jason, here? Nah)

“I wonder how long he’s been up here all alone?”

(It has to be a dream because they came looking for him…)

“Musta been a while. He’s freezin’.” The dream hand is warm on his forehead, so nice, not enough to make him want to come to reality, so he just snuffles against his arm and hums, not trying to swim to the surface of awake, not yet.

“Okay, okay. Not leaving Timmy by himself at night anymore. Check.” Dick sighs, his breath a puff in the cold, and cranes his neck to eye the configuration the kid squeezed through to get to the wide window ledge.

“B’s gonna talk ta his folks when they make it back ta town anyhow.” And Jason shakes his head, burrowing a little deeper in his jacket with bare face (doms keep the eyes warm, you feel him?). “Kid his age shouldn’t be left alone anyhow.”

“Nope, just circus brats and street kids, right Little Wing?” Dick glances over at his replacement with a wide grin (and if B is serious about keeping Timmy now that the business with Two-Face is over, he’s going to have to come around more to help corral two younger brothers).

“Yeah, some a’ us can take care of business, Dick. This kid? He don’t need ta be in a house alone like this. Ain’t right.” The current Robin just frowns at the small silhouette, eyebrows drawing together.

“Alfred has his room ready, so at least he’ll have somewhere warm with a window. How did he even get in there?” And Dick? Is an acrobat and this configuration is making him flinch.

But Jay just smirks back, “Wiry little shit, apparently. Already fittin’ in.”

“Apparently. Let’s get him out of there, shall we Robin?”

And he huffs drowsily, swimming in and out of consciousness, the lack of sleep in the last few days making him sink further down where the voices are muffled, muted.

He might make some grunting sound when dream hands lift his heavy limbs, weightlessness like this a foreign concept, but it’s not like dreams where you step down abruptly and jar awake. It’s warm and smells like leather, Kevlar, and musk. And his brain gives him what he wants in the dream, soft cotton to fist his hands into without having to do anything more than sigh.

“Poor little guy is tuckered out. We shouldn’t have left him so long. It doesn’t look like he’s been sleeping.”

The transition is down, steps, his blurry mind supplies.

“He chases us through Gotham, yeah? Sleep probably ain’t even in his vocabulary.”

“He’s so small, Little Wing. He needs to sleep.”

“He needs goddamned parents, Dickie.”

“It’s okay,” is breathed against his hair, “he has us now.”

“Sure, sure. Lotta grown ass men what dress up in tights n’ masks. Normal as they come.”

“Hey! It’s not a bad life, you know. I turned out just fine, thank-you very much.”

A grunt in reply and something warm tucked around him before the air shifts and it’s cold, making his small body tighten again, start to swim a little closer to consciousness. But he’s snuggled higher, closer to strength and warmth.

(All the good things)

“Ah. I see you two have managed to ferret out the missing Master then?”

“Shoulda seen ‘im, Alf. Alla way up in the attic window.”

“You have a similar propensity for small spaces, Master Jason. Master Dick as well if memory serves. Very high, small spaces to be precise.”

“Not my fault there’s so many in the Manor, Alfred. Those are the perfect places to explore.”

“Hm,” the car doors close as Alfred Pennyworth shuts his young charges in (three now, not including you, Master Bruce. He is not getting any younger, you understand?) and moves to the driver’s side through the chill.

Master Jason and Master Dick continue a quiet conversation while the child sleeps on and the dark forests pass them by. Alfred inputs when necessary with the usual plans on the next few nights of patrol ahead of them sans the Batman, and it does the butler’s heart good to see them finally getting along. Just as he told the worrywart that is his eldest charge, the two needed time to find their own way. Time and exposure, more appropriately.

As Alfred is well aware, the life his family leads, one of the night, one of pain and bruises and burns, one of trauma after trauma with only the strength of will and people in need to drive them, it required a certain amount of humanity to maintain. The strength of their bonds, to lean on one another in times of need, had been the hardest lesson for Master Bruce to learn as the Batman,, and one he would daresay he failed to pass it down to his sons. Fortunately, when a certain little robin that lost something so precious so young, the lesson for Master Bruce had begun and would continue for a second so in need, he would take on any fight just to survive, and would, of course, extend to the small one they are carrying up the staircase of Wayne Manor as he sleeps the sleep of the innocent.

Alfred and Master Dick take his shoes off and manage pajama bottoms, tucking the little boy in with care.

Only once did he wake up slightly, blinking fuzzily without move his heavy head from the pillow.

“This is such a nice dream, Mr. Alfred.”

A gentle hand to his head, smoothing down his too long hair, “go back to sleep, Young Sir. We shall be here when you wake in the morning.”

And Timmy hums again, smiling, snuggling down into the comfortable mattress and pillow. He’s fine sleeping until morning, to keep the dream for as long as he can (and maybe….maybe it would be okay to just not have to wake up).

[izzy-b-hands]

Rock/Queentober 2020, Oct. 30th: Vampire

Randomly assigned band member for this fic: John

Tried to go for a mix of Monty Pythonesque humor and What We Do In The Shadows. Not sure how close I got, but hopefully it’s decent enough! 

Set in 1986.

Synopsis: John’s woken up with fangs and a craving for blood. Not the best way for anyone to wake up in the morning, and rather odd, considering he didn’t go to bed that way. But how shall the lads figure out what’s happened to him, and how can they deal with it now? 

TW for mentions of blood (because vampires), and brief mentions of sexual activity towards the end. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“A what?” 

“A vampire!” John stressed, pulling up his upper lip to show off the fangs. “Look!” 

“You don’t just become a vampire overnight,” Brian scoffed.

Roger nodded. “They bite you first, that’s how you get it.” 

“I know that!” John said. “But I don’t remember anything biting me, and yet here I am! I can’t eat or drink anything, I feel like death, and my teeth! How do you explain my teeth?!” 

“They don’t look bad on you, if it helps,” Freddie replied. “Dashing, honestly.” 

Roger and Brian nodded.

“I don’t care if they suit me!” John cried. “I can’t go home to Ronnie like this!” 

“Well, you left home like that, right?” Roger said. “So technically, you should be fine to go back.” 

“You’re missing the point!” John shouted. 

“No, you’ve got the points,” Roger joked. “Sorry, sorry, it was right there.” 

“Weird question,” Brian said. “Could...Ronnie...have been the one to bite you?” 

John was aghast. “Are you saying I’ve been married to her this long, and never noticed she was a vampire?!” 

“I mean, there’s lots of things they say spouses don’t notice about each other right away,” Freddie said. “Things you learn about each other as time goes on.” 

“But vampirism?” John sighed desperately. “You lot sound like you’ve lost it!” 

“Says the man who claims to have become a vampire overnight,” Roger smirked. 

It was over in a flash: John at Roger’s neck, then both of them on the floor, Roger woozily standing back up as soon as John was off him. 

“Ouch,” he hissed, and pulled up his upper lip to touch his teeth. “Deaky! You fucker! You can’t just go turning anyone who upsets you into a vampire!” 

“You can’t keep making fun of me for having turned into a vampire overnight!” John protested. 

“Both of you calm down,” Freddie said. “We can find a way to fix this-” 

“How?!” John shouted. “We’re fucked!” 

“I’m only fucked because you fucked me over just now!” Roger cried. 

“Both of you fucking stop it!” Freddie commanded, but they were both on him in a moment. 

As he struggled to his feet, he sighed, and winced as his fangs hit his lower lip. “You know, I’m already sensitive about my teeth. And you two just have to go and do this, there’s no other mature way to resolve an argument!” 

Brian gulped as the three of them turned to him. “Now, I’m fine playing with vampires. I know it’s never come up, but, oh god-” 

---

At Garden Lodge, Jim was handing out tea cups filled with blood to Veronica, Dom, and Chrissie. 

“They’ll figure it out now,” Veronica moaned. “It was an accident! I was dreaming, and I didn’t mean to bite him! How have you all managed not to bite any of yours?” 

“I mean, I don’t really think about it,” Jim said. “It’s never come up, and I’ve never had the urge. I don’t even think he’s noticed that I don’t really eat the rare steaks he buys me, but...lap them up, if you will.” 

“Love can blind you to a lot,” Dom agreed, sipping from her cup. “Oh, this is fresh.” 

“Best I could do at this hour,” Jim smiled. “And best for all of you.” 

“You’re too sweet,” Chrissie said. “Dom’s right. I mean, how many years have I been making dinner for Brian, and he’s never noticed I don’t eat any of it myself?” 

“Same here,” Dom nodded. 

“But this is so different,” Veronica said. “I mean, we all got turned by total strangers on the street, not by anyone close or dear to us!” 

Her cup dropped to the carpet, and blood started to soak into it. 

“Well,” Freddie sighed. “I’m not going to drink it out of the carpet, but we shouldn’t let that go to waste.” 

They all turned to see the lads standing there, looking noticeably...deader, and it dawned. 

“Oh John, you didn’t,” Veronica groaned. 

“I didn’t really intend on it,” John said. “Things got a bit heated-” 

“It’s all of our faults, really,” Roger said. “No self-control on any of us.” 

“I got turned last by these three fuckers,” Brian said. “So I take no responsibility for this.” 

“You turned that dog on the way here,” Roger protested. 

“I was thirsty!” Brian scoffed. “You all got to drink me and each other up, and I didn’t kill it, technically! It’ll be fine...probably.” 

Dom nodded. “At least I don’t have to make such big dinners anymore. Just for the kids now, and that’s much easier.” 

“Good point,” Chrissie said. “I suppose this is rather good, in the end. Works out well enough.” 

“Do have to ask,” Roger said. “I thought this meant being...undead. And without being rude, you’ve all-” 

“Aged,” Freddie finished the sentence before Roger could stick his foot firmly in his mouth. “Quite well, but even so, do vampires usually...do that?” 

“There’s a lot of bullshit that flies around about us,” Jim said. “You can stop aging if you want to, but that’s a great way to get staked. Better to let your body age and accept that at least it won’t ever give out on you, no matter how it looks on the outside.” 

“I could keep performing as long as I want,” Freddie mused. “That’s not bad.” 

“See?” Chrissie said. “More upsides to this than you might think.” 

“It’s usually manageable,” Veronica said weakly. “S’long as you don’t accidentally bite your spouse in your sleep.” 

“I knew it,” Brian murmured. 

John gave her a gentle smile, and walked over to lean down and give her a hug. “No hard feelings. Could have been worse, right? Could have killed me completely, instead of turning me? I say that’s a good ending for it, if it has to happen.” 

“And we thought you two would be together forever anyway,” Roger smiled. “Now you really will be! Though I don’t know what gifts they assign for like...anniversary 120, or anything. Think you’ll have to make that sort of stuff up as you go.” 

“I can do that,” John said. “In fact, I’m looking forward to it.” 

“Come over, the rest of you,” Jim motioned to them. “I’ll get more cups out.” 

“I’ll help,” Freddie volunteered. “Since I have you...does Phoebe...” 

“Turned years ago as a kid by some school friend,” Jim said. 

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Freddie gasped. “Well what about...” 

Their conversation trailed off as they went into the kitchen, and everyone else settled in by their spouses.

“I couldn’t tell them it wasn’t exactly an accident,” Veronica whispered into John’s ear as he took the chair by her. “I mean, I didn’t mean to bite you like that! When you asked me to nibble your neck, I just got carried away, and-” 

“It’s really okay,” John whispered back. “If this should have to happen...I’m glad it was you that turned me. Not anyone else.” 

They slid into easy conversation with everyone else as Freddie and Jim returned with more to drink, and it was easily the most comfortable time they’d all had together. 

Even with the incessant barking of the dog outside, who chased its owner down the street, sharp fangs dripping with blood. 

[charliestjames]

A Wager

Who: Charlie St. James and Margot Montgomery (NPC) When: March 10, 2018 What: Charlie calls her mother and a little peek into Charlie’s sociopathic mind Warnings: Mostly just Charlie being Charlie and Margot feeding into that

Margot: (looks at the caller id on her phone and raises her brow but smiles anyway) How’s the trip, dear?

Charlie: Your daughter is driving me crazy. She insist on seeing this switch when I’m very clearly capable of taking care of her. And this switch insists on seeing her when all of her attention should be focused on me.

Margot: I see… have you been? Taking care of her I mean…

Charlie: I thought I was. Apparently I was wrong.

Margot: The only reason I ask is because I’ve been stalking both your social media and I’m mostly seeing books on hers. And I spoke with her yesterday and she said she hadn’t really seen you much during the trip. Wait switch… is this the girl she was seeing before you showed up to school?

Charlie: And that’s because I’ve been busy but that isn’t the point I’m trying to make here. Depends. Is her name Ainsley? Because that’s who I’m referring to.

Margot: Charlie… if you haven’t had any time for her you haven’t been taking care of her. It’s that simple. And yes. Sawyer helped her move in, submitted to her and has been on a few dates with her…

Charlie: Yes well that wasn’t the answer I wanted so I’m choosing to ignore all that you just said if you don’t mind. Of course they’ve been on a few dates because why the fuck not.

Margot: I expect nothing less of you. Have you actually celebrated your good grade with her? Congratulations by the way. I don’t know, I could be wrong. Dinner is a date though, right? I have no clue, maybe they are just friends.

Charlie: It was my good grade. I wasn’t aware that needed to be celebrated with her. Yes, thank you. So she’s going on dates with the both of because she’s clearly greedy and that isn’t going to work for me. Whatever they can have fun together.

Margot:  it wasn’t just yours. It was your sister’s too. If you’d have had a poor submissive the grade wouldn’t have been as good. I know from experience. I don’t think you mean that. Have you tried talking to either of them about it? From what I recall your sister would literally do anything for you. Or are you jealous that she’s also seeing the switch that you are?

Charlie: Sure sure whatever. She was good before I got here, yes, but I made her better. I made her the best. I do mean that. I’m currently not speaking to either of them. Yes! She can’t have the both of us. It doesn’t work that way. It’s not like she can have two Dommes in the real world.

Margot: …. It takes two, dear. Don’t whatever me young lady, you called for my opinion clearly unless you just called to bitch.  So… you’re not speaking to your sister… your fathers aren’t speaking to your sister. You not speaking to her over something as petty as a girl? That’s beneath you. It’s something your fathers do. You’re better than that. If you want your sister than you have to make that clear. With you not spending time with her, not celebrating what she sees as a huge accomplishment with her, and now not speaking to her? She’s going to be confused. She is more sensitive than you and I are and part of being a good Domme is trying to understand how your sub is feeling even if you don’t.  And I meant- are you seeing this Ainsley person too? Maybe you want what your sister has and why can’t you both have it all? Remember in the real world you can claim a sub and a switch no problem.

Charlie: Yeah no. (Hangs up)

Margot: (gets a call hours) ...Yes, Dear?

Charlie: I want neither of them.

Margot: Then why are you so upset or bothered?

Charlie: I was but I’m not anymore. I’ve punished her and moved on from the fact that neither of them are good enough for me.

Margot: Okay… and you’re alright dropping the bond with Little Sawyer?  You realize once trust is destroyed it’s hard to get back.

Charlie: …..I hadn’t thought about her.

Margot:  Darling… she needs you. Not this Ainsley girl and not anyone else. But if you think about it and decide you’re honestly okay with stepping away from her then the fall out will probably be devastating. That bond is… special.  Takes more trust than the average relationship. She told me what she calls you. That’s… not something to take lightly.  But- if you feel that they aren’t good enough for you then I’m sure you’ll find plenty of people worth your time. We both know you are exceptional.

Charlie: I’ll think about it but for now I’m still not speaking with either of them. I need the separation to get my thoughts in order.

Margot: Understandable. I know how you work by now.  Keep in mind that if you do plan on working things out with your sister you shouldn’t stay silent forever- you went years without speaking to her and you were lucky she forgave you so easily.  I would hate for you to hit another roadblock when it comes to something you want.  I have faith you’ll figure it all out and whatever you choose will be best in the long run.

Charlie: It would have been too hard for her not to forgive me. She loves me too much and she’s much nicer than I am. And I did send her birthday cards every year. Fathers were just jackasses and never gave them to her. We both know if I truly wanted both of them then I could have them and I would have them.

Margot: I’m not going to argue any of that.  I guess you have some thinking to do and some decisions to make.

Charlie: Now I’m curious about how long it would actually take me to have them both.

Margot: What do you mean?

Charlie: I mean how long it would take me to get both of them wanting me to claim them. I’m thinking 4 months. Maybe 5 at the most. And before you go analyzing me, I’m not saying this is something I’m going to do.

Margot: Huh… good question.  I think it will take you a full year.  If you do decide to do it maybe we should make a wager.

Charlie: Alright, I’m intrigued. What is this wager exactly? Even though we both know I’ll win anyway.

Margot: hmm… I win and you agree to spend the Christmas holiday at my place for the foreseeable future.  You win and I put the down payment on your first home... where we will spend Christmas for the foreseeable future.

Charlie: I feel as though you would win either way. If you win, you get your Christmases. If I win, I get my house and my first year of medical school paid for, and you get every other Christmas.

Margot: I will agree to that- IF- the years I don’t get you for Christmas I get you for Thanksgiving.

Charlie: Fine, but only because we bet on the dog show and I continue to win every year. You really must stop picking the poodle every year. And I really hope you have a good savings becauses homes in Hartford are not cheap.

Margot: You do realize you fathers paid me a mini fortune to carry three babies for them, yes?  Plus my salary isn’t exactly small, dear.

Charlie: I’m glad to know we were worth a mini fortune. And I’m glad you can afford all of this when you lose. Just to clarify, I don’t have to claim them. I just have to make them want me to claim them, right?

Margot: No- the deal is actually getting them collared and claiming them. I’m not spending that chunk of my bank account on a mere manipulation, darling, but nice try.

Charlie: But I’m so good at manipulating people. Especially Sawyer, but whatever. She should be easy enough. She trusts me already. I may have to use different tactics with Ainsley. Maybe make her fall in love first…..Heart first and then submission should follow nicely.

Margot: I know you are, Dear, but this is also a lifetime commitment and major responsibility.  You have to be sure because it’s not just your life and heart. You’re messing with two other lives. Be sure about it before you make it your mission.

Charlie: I’m sure they’ll both be fine. I’m a great catch and they should be so lucky, but I’ll consider all the consequences of my actions and all that stuff I’m sure you want to lecture me about.

Margot: No lecture. I said my piece. Let me know what you decide on the matter… now… let’s have a chat about that little display you forced on your sister last week- explain.

Charlie: It was to get her ready for our presentation. I needed to see how much humiliation she could endure. Finding out she liked it was just an extra bonus really.

Margot: A warning would have been nice. You’re lucky I have a poker face.

Charlie: I didn’t have time to give you a warning. It was a spur of the moment decision.

Margot:  Mm hmm. Well, I’m glad that little experiment proved fruitful.  I know you’ll have far too much fun with that knowledge in the future.  Back to our earlier conversation- It just dawned on me… you’re just as possessive as I am. If I were in your situation? I wouldn’t want the Switch submitting to anyone else, I wouldn’t care if she was domming others, in fact, I would let her as long as I was the only dominant in her life. Then it’s actually a real plus that she happens to enjoy dominating the submissive I see as mine.  I could even control the way she dominates her.  Just my insight.

Charlie: (quiet for a few long moments) It’s like you want to pay for my schooling.

Margot: Well… I would like to see both my girls happy in the long run. If it means I end up having to pay up then so be it.

Charlie: And you think I could make her happy? Both of them?

Margot: The fact that Sawyer calls you Momma… the fact that you helped her get best submissive… that just tells me that with her you definitely could. She loves you and trusts you more than anyone right now.  As long as you don’t go fucking it up I think the two of you could be very happy.  As far as Ainsley goes...Sawyer tells me that she wants to go to medical school, that she’s brilliant… well, my dear, she is going to need a brilliant mind to challenge her and keep her stimulated… you can provide her with that and also give her the chance to be with a submissive you both enjoy… you could definitely make her happy.

Charlie: Just so you know if I’m actually collaring them, I’ll need at minimum six months and eight at the most. The point system will slow us down a bit.

Margot: Fair enough.  I still say it’ll be a year.

[the-unofficial-force]

@dcntcommitsuicide​ asked: 12. What’s the meaning behind your muse’s url?

Another RP Questions For The Mun (always accepting) 

Here it is on another post because I am extra and ramble far too much. So here’s an essay on what all the URLs for my sideblogs (and for this blog!) mean, for anybody who was curious:

the-unofficial-force - So this is going to take some explaining... Basically, all of the muses here (my OCs, anyways) are/were from a fanfic universe/series I was planning on writing back in like 2011-2012 when I was in middle school (I might still do this if people want me to and if I ever have time, but, this is fine for now. Also good gravy I just realized how long I’ve been in BBC Sherlock hell... I’m old...). The original idea was that all of the muses here know each other, are friends with each other, and sometimes get involved in their parents’ business in between dealing with their own lives and stuff. Because I wanted to justify this by hearkening back to the original books, I called these doofs “The Baker Street Irregulars”. Therefore, when it came time to pick a URL, I figured the quote where Holmes first coins the term, “it is the unofficial force... the Baker Street Irregulars”  would be a good pick.

The rest are under the cut because this got so long and you probably only wanted this URL... I am so, so sorry.

elijahseditorials - Eli’s a writer and his blog is from his perspective/a good deal more personal than some of the others because of how emotional he is. Editorials, of course, are personal thoughts on the world and the people around the writer. Hence, the blog is kind of like Elijah’s editorials. (I had a hard time with this one, so it’s not the best of reasons!)

the-domin-ator - Dom’s a funny guy but kind of innocent (despite being a little shit) and loves puns, and he’s also a rock star/musician type. When I first started out/in the fanfic verse I mentioned above, I set his age as a young teenager with somewhat misplaced/odd rock ‘n’ roll sensibilities, so, I figured he’d try to make up a really, really stupid badass stage name for himself and use it totally unironically, hence “The Dominator”.

singingsoftlytothedawn - Will’s an actor and really into musical theatre, and I felt like “Corner of the Sky” from Pippin (which is also one of his nicknames) fit him and his attitude rather nicely. The specific lyric is, “So don’t ask where I’m going/Just listen when I’m gone/And far away you’ll hear me singing/Softly to the dawn”.

stvitusdancer - Okay, so the St. Vitus’ Dance was what a lot of people called this outbreak of dancing mania/dancing plague throughout the 14th, 15th, 16th, and 17th centuries (I’m a huge medieval and history buff, so...) where people literally danced until they died. St. Vitus is the patron saint of dancers and entertainers, but there’s this huge macabre history surrounding him because of that. Penny loves any and all things morbid and dark (eventually becoming a detective like her uncle Sherlock), but remains completely well-adjusted, pleasant, and happy. She’s also a ballerina and loves to dance, so I figured St. Vitus would fit a dancer who loved dark and creepy stuff.

theotherdilestrade - This one is pretty self-explanatory. Isabel, like her dad, goes into police work at New Scotland Yard and becomes a DI. So I figure there would be a lot of confusion between having two DIs with the same name, and Isabel would have to clarify who she is and how she’s not her father (if somebody expected to have her father consult on their case but got her instead, for example). The scenario I was imagining specifically was Isa and Greg eating lunch together or something and someone calling for DI Lestrade, and both of them turning around, Greg making motions to get up, and whoever called them would have to say, “no, not you, the other DI Lestrade”. Also the URL can sort of be read as Isabel trying to step out from her dad’s shadow while still being really close to him and honoring the work he does.

neverchangeanddontyoueverstop - So Sarah is still woefully underdeveloped and I need to fix that at some point, so I had no idea what to do with her URL. Thankfully, Fleetwood Mac’s song “Sara” has the line, “Sara/You’re the poet in my heart/Never change/And don’t you ever stop” which captures her attitude fairly well (she’s an optimist and has a very plucky outlook on life) so I just used that.

quis--custodiet and forged--in--fire - Ah yes, the cryptids of my blog. Sean and Daisy are a pair of siblings who may get scrapped at this point (but I love them so much...) but are important to everybody else here as they’re part of the fanfic verse I’ve been talking about. Quis custodiet is Latin for “who guards”, and it’s a take off on the phrase, Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?, or, literally translated, “Who will guard the guards themselves?”. I feel like that’s sort of a summation of Sean’s role in the team, as he’s often times the voice of reason and is very protective of all his friends. Daisy loves to do really cool metallurgy stuff (welding, soldering, smeltering, mechanics probably too, all that jazz), and really comes into her own by finding it/something she’s good at (it’s a big character moment for her), so, she was literally forged in fire.

rose--of-the--world - My unannounced, unofficially official Rosie Watson blog! This is just a translation of one of the meanings of “Rosamund”.

lets-investigate - So this is theoretically the home for my Holmes and Watson muses, but, I’m not on here as much as I ought to be. I probably should have made this its own main blog but I got lazy... this whole account is probably going to be going through some overhauling soon (nothing bad though!). “The Other Side of Life” by The Moody Blues always has given me really strong Sherlock Holmes vibes. Like, all of it, but specifically the lines, “The atmosphere on the streets tonight/Is the driving beat of the world/The word down here on the streets tonight/Is the truest music you’ve heard” but I couldn’t think of a good URL from that because all of it is so good. So, instead, I picked the chorus to pluck a URL from: “Baby, baby, baby, let’s investigate/The other side of life tonight/The lovers and the fighters and the risks they take/Are on the other side of life tonight”.

holmesthemeddler - This comes from one of my favorite exchanges in the ACD books, from The Speckled Band, when Roylott is trying to intimidate Holmes and Holmes just gleefully takes the (in my opinion) really silly insults: “I know you, you scoundrel! I have heard of you before. You are Holmes the meddler!... Holmes the busybody!... Holmes the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!” Also, he does meddle, a lot, and I think it’s a pretty good descriptor of his character.

goodoldwatson - Also from the ACD books, this is from His Last Bow: “Good old Watson! You are the one fixed point in a changing age. There's an east wind coming all the same, such a wind as never blew on England yet. It will be cold and bitter, Watson, and a good many of us may wither before its blast. But it's God's own wind none the less, and a cleaner, better, stronger land will lie in the sunshine when the storm has cleared.” I also thought it complimented “holmesthemeddler” nicely!

[sirwyattsylvester]

Mother Knows Best || Self Para

Date: 4.19.17

Description: Wyatt goes through the punishment, has hallucinations, doubt, general suffering from the elements. Exhausted, falls asleep in the infirmary around dawn.

Word Count: 2.8k

When Wyatt heard the doors of the gym open, he didn’t immediately look away from his exercise, landing a kick on a punching bag. He decided to glance over, see who might have come in, wondering if it would be anyone interesting, anyone he’d feel the need to peacock for, but what he saw was not at all what he was expecting. A couple of guards had stepped in, their eyes on him and the thought rushed through his head. It’s happening. There’d be no other reason for guards to come to him, especially not more than one, if they weren’t preparing for a tussle. He seemed incapable of movement as they went toward him, but when they each grabbed hold of one of his arms, for a moment his instincts kicked in and he tried to yank his arms away, though he stopped in a hurry at the tightening grip and his rational mind reminding him he had to go along with this quietly. There was no getting away from it, and he knew it’d just be worse for him if he tried to get out of it. 

If there was any doubt that this was the punishment, it was erased when he was brought to a spot where all the rounded up Dominants were being walked to. After a brief pass of time, the guards spoke to one another about moving along and he felt the palm on his right arm press in to encourage him to walk forward. His brow furrowed when they were being walked into the woods, not sure this could seem any more ominous, perhaps this the exception of being lowered by a crane into the school pool full of all sorts of hungry, carnivorous fish. 

They stopped in front of a pond and he couldn’t contain a shiver as the trucks of fish and eels came to his mind. The guards ordered them to all strip naked, so Wyatt began to obey, as much as he hated to. This was not the mood or the time to check out anyone around him, so he kept his eyes down on himself. Once everyone was stripped down, they were handed water bottles and told to drink them as they were forced to their knees. Wyatt swallowed thickly as he felt the ropes wrapping around his thigh and pulling calf to be trapped against his thigh, having to bend his feet to feel stable. Wyatt couldn’t tell what was in the water but he knew he didn’t like it, and he also knew he had absolutely no idea what it was he was drinking, which had his stomach churning. 

As soon as he was done with the water, the bottle was taken away and he had to stay still as a rope harness was wrapped around his chest and over his shoulders. His lips were pursed, trying to remember this only felt shaming if he allowed it. Submissives enjoyed being tied up like this, why was he so miserable. Oh. That was good reason. He gasped as the guard had gone from tying his wrists to pulling a rope through between his legs, none too gentle. At first he clenched his legs together, but he realized that was even more uncomfortable, so he tried to relax and glare off at nothingness, feeling a bit chilly out here naked, and still refusing to look over at anyone else. 

Once he was bound, the guards lifted him, pulling him into the water, deep enough that he was paranoid they were going to pull him under, gasping quietly as the cold hit his chest, perhaps not as cold as it could be had the air not chilled him down. His knees hit something and the guards had to reach into the water to pull ropes up to attach him to whatever he was kneeling on. He couldn’t possibly look down to see it, not unless he wanted to stick his face in the cold water, since he was forced to hold his chin up. At this point, he tried to see other Doms but realized they had all been separated some what. He could see the head of another Dom, similarly trying to keep their head up and he wriggled on the platform until he felt unsteady and realized that unless he could release his arms and legs, he’d surely just sink to the bottom. 

Pressing on his knees, he tried to straighten up his back some more, to try and get it so his neck wasn’t straining, but that was a pain in his shoulders and back to try and do. He had no idea when this would be over, or if this was even the worst of it. The hours passed by agonizingly slow, with Wyatt trying to make out what other people were yelling, but he hardly recognized voices, and soon he grew tired of trying to listen. He attempted to try and relax, to let the calm lapping of the water settle his nerves, but his limbs weren’t used to this sort of extended bondage, nor his skin used to the feel of the rope. At one point while the sky was turning shades of purple, he bent his head down with his eyes shut tight, letting his face stick into the pond’s water when his neck started to feel sore. He tried to do this in between breaths, but soon enough his straining his lungs by trying to let his neck straighten out or bend the other direction with extended times of holding his breath. 

When darkness fell, Wyatt was almost tempted to let his eyelids drop. His body was working extra to keep himself warm, and the energy expended made him tired. It was through his almost closed eyes did he see what looked like a light and a rustle amidst the trees. He was instantly alert again, staying in complete silence as he scanned the shore for a few minutes, trying to figure out what was out there. Something sounded like a twig cracking in the woods and his heart rate picked up, torn between being terrified and hopeful that they were being brought back now. Maybe the cold and uncomfortable reflection in the pond was the punishment. As Wyatt was thinking this, his gaze went out of focus, and when it did, what looked like glowing orange eyes appeared in the bushes to his left and his eyes snapped over that direction, where there was nothing. What the hell was going on? Scare tactics? People messing about with flash lights? He couldn’t get his head around it, since one moment it seemed like something was right there where he should be able to strain to see it.

It was while he was focused on the shore that he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of another person in the water, yelling in surprise or pain, maybe both. He quickly looked around, trying to see the other heads of the Dominants as general panic ensued. “Guys?!” He called loudly. “What-” He started to say when he felt it, sharp little spikes grazing his foot. Teeth? Oh God, don’t let it be a piranha. “What the fuck?!” Squirming where he was, he knew he had no where to go, Surely his mother wouldn’t want to deform him by having piranha’s chew off his foot? Oh shit... he could never play football again. Yelping again when he felt something like a sharp pinch on his thigh and he considered it might be a bite. He was gasping for air, panicked when another bite came to his thigh, then not much long after, something slimy graze past his stomach. The fear was dizzying, and the fact that he knew squirming to knock it away was dangerous, first because it might attract more attention and because he might fall off his platform. There were yells and exclamations, no one seeming to know what was going on, though there was a general consensus. His mother had set a dangerous aquarium of fish upon them.

A painful suction clapped onto his back and he yelled for it to stop, as if there were watchers-by on the shore that could end this whole thing now. Was his mother out there? Watching as her own son struggled to try and keep away from threats he couldn’t see, and to keep his head above water.

The moments of “rest” were for his body alone, because he stayed alert in his paranoia, the strain of his muscles no longer the main priority. Instead, he was focusing on any noises or shifts in the water that might appear. He saw it come toward him, what looked like Charon on his boat and he gasped quietly, part horrified, part relieved, because at that moment, with all the elements of this punishment and the paranoid he didn’t even know was being induced, he was having a hard time remembering why being alive was worth it. The vision of the boat drew nearer, and sitting in it was his mother in a full black track suit. “M-mom? Are you going to get me out of here? M-mom, pl- FUCK! please!” His body jolted as a scrape grazed over his right ribs, making him jerk his head, sputtering and coughing as he got water in his lungs and his eyes. He began furiously trying to blink it away so he wouldn’t lose sight of his mother, but his vision was blurry. From what he could make out she was putting her finger to her lips to hush him and the boat went on. She had been smiling. Amused. Wyatt coughed hard and choked out a yell of, “No! Don’t leave me here! Please!!” and his knees shook, shifting his balance in the water. “Please,” He hoarsely whispered, no longer able to see the boat, though it sounded as though his mother was laughing in a far away distance. Had she gone so far so fast? He clenched his eyes shut tight as they burned, droplets rolling down his cheeks, though whether they were pond water or tears, he couldn’t tell at this point. 

He was bleary, barely remembering to be scared about the fish when he felt another “bite,” this time on his nipple, tugging painfully on hairs as it went away. “God, STOP!” He didn’t recognize his voice, perhaps because his throat felt raw from swallowing pond water or from the yelling, it was rougher, deeper. He didn’t know how much time was passing, but he started to feel it. The gravity change of being in the water, the pressure of it all around him, hugging at his body has pushed his stomach in, almost “up” he felt like, but that couldn’t contain the growl he felt stirring in his stomach. When was the last time he had eaten? Lunch? Fuck, he did eat lunch, didn’t he? The pain from his stomach, both the organ itself and the sore muscles, made his whole body ache. He squirmed against his ropes, determined that the cut of them in his wrists would not be worse than the emptiness of his stomach. He started having wild thoughts about diving in head first and blindly trying to bite any fish that tried to come bite him first. With that thought, he thrashed in his spot when he felt spiky teeth scrape his shoulder, falling under the water, though his bonds keeping him to the platform saved him falling any further than his body curling in on itself. 

The pain of the ropes tightening in that new position, the rope suddenly tighter on both his balls and ass made him yell under the water, the large bubbles of air leaving his mouth and going up to the surface. He struggled to get upright and felt something slimy and large run into his bent side, making him choke on water as he was pushed upright, choking up water when his head resurfaced, coughing some more. His lungs felt like they were on fire, the work of his abdomen muscles as he coughed working under the water’s pressure felt like they were on fire. Almost worse than that, the yells of other people, splashing, general terror that made him feel like they’d all shipwrecked from a burning boat had him going out of his mind, suddenly feeling they were never meant to be taken back out. They’d just find a new Dom class of 2017.

Wyatt couldn’t take the noises any longer, so while he breathed heavily from his nose, he tipped his head back a little more, much to the displeasure of his neck, and submerged his ears. So far, none of the fish had started to frenzy-eat him, even when he knew the cut must have let blood escape into the water, which is what would draw piranhas. With that thought, despite the great discomfort, he almost became numb to the fear. He was so exhausted. So thirsty, so hungry. Right now all his energy was in keeping upright. That said, he still let out quiet cries of pain, his body aching as it went taut, tried to shy away from the taunting. 

By the time the sky was slowly starting to show shades of a lighter blue, Wyatt had stopped reacting minus his muscles twitching or jerking where sudden sharp pains occurred. He’d accepted his fate. If his mother wanted him hurt, if she wanted him to be disfigured by some large fish biting off one of his feet or something like that, it was his mother’s will be done. He was done fighting for himself in this if even she hadn’t felt he was deserve saving.

When he felt the ropes binding him to the platform being cut, he thought a fish  was trying to get him free to pull down into the depths, but that in no way explained the grip on his arms, pulling him out of the water. He gasped, from the pronounced ache in his arms and the cold air hitting his wet body. He slumped as much as the bondage would allow, feeling sapped, like he had been holding up a weight for so long. His ropes were either cut or undone where it was too dangerous to go near with a knife and his head slightly rotated, seeing other bodies on the pale shore, looking positively ghostly in this light, with the distance. Had it been Charon after all? Were they finally being granted passage? 

The reveal barely registered. He felt the presence of anger like a cloudy, far away feeling, but in that instance, he had nothing in him to muster up. He was so tired from the bondage, the constant tension in his body in order to keep his nose out of the water. When the guard pulled him up to his feet, he felt like a newly born foal, his legs caving, having been bent for so long that while stretching them could in theory be lovely, putting weight on them was not. The guard was burly and slung one of Wyatt’s arms over his shoulders and walked Wyatt to the infirmary. Though his head hurt so much, from a headache to the soreness of his neck, he tried to turn his head to look around when it felt like there were whispers nearby. He saw the faint glow of the orange deeper into the trees and sucked in a sharp breath. Something was still out to get him. 

As much as his body wanted to go into survival mode, his eyes slipped shut and he stumbled along with the guard, not sure he was even more than half conscious until his feet were on a new texture, something smooth, pleasant. He had a blanket wrapped around him and he couldn’t quite recall when that had happened, and the guard was depositing him on a bed in the infirmary where he and a nurse kept him upright long enough to make him drink water, cool and wonderful water that was in no way tainted with a bitter spice or muck, dirt.

He felt a pinch, not sure why he would when he was in a new place, abruptly looking over and seeing the nurse inserting an IV into him to put nutrients back into his body since he was so sore that the idea of opening his mouth to chew or even be spoon fed sounded terrible to him. She helped him lie down in the bed and made sure he was covered. His head rested back on the pillow and his eyes slid shut as the nurse injected the IV with a muscle relaxant and a low dose of painkiller. Wyatt shivered faintly as he felt something cold spread up through his arm, but that was the last sensation he really remembered before he fell fast asleep, his legs stretched out all the way, his feet hanging just over the edge.