#every time I talk about this I am not sure if I hallucinated it

[bluishfrog]

favorite dnf twitchcon moment?

Dnf breaking math.

When they weighted the popcorn buckets after that weird microwave fight and then dnf advanced to the finale of the cooking competition event DESPITE the numbers being very much not supporting that.

Everyone wanted dnf together so badly that they forgot how basic math worked.

[bitegore]

getting mental healthcare is really cool, its like asking someone to take a sledgehammer to your self-interest and then saying thank you after because it makes your life moderately easier even though you have to deal with this shit now

[autistichalsin]

Analysis of each character's final words in the new Dark Urge evil ending

If you are romanced to a character, you have the option, when taking the new version of the Sins of the Father ending, to kill your partner in front of the others in your party, killing them with one last kiss. They then give their last words and pass away. I love each and every one and feel they are incredible characterization moments.

So let's break these down!

Lae'zel:

I... I am glad it was you. No other blade would have sufficed.

This is something that hammers home that, Vlaakith or no, Lae'zel deeply believes in all the ideals of a Githyanki. Life is a privilege for the strong, and death is the price of weakness. Further, if romanced, Lae'zel will affectionately call you "the source of my bruises" many times. If she has to die, if she has finally found the one person stronger than herself, then she is "satisfied" that it is you- who she both loved and admired. The only one she would ever consider worthy of besting her.

Karlach:

Fuck you.

Short, simple, and to the point, just the way Karlach does everything else. She's already gone through all her stages of grief with her engine- well, almost all of them. Anger still remains. She burns hot until the end.

Wyll:

I... I forgive you.

This isn't just Wyll being a good guy. This is heartbreak, and guilt. Guilt for not saving you from Bhaal's influence when he was so sure he had. Heartbreak that after he gave his literal soul to save as many people as he could, he couldn't save you- and couldn't save others from you, either. All he sacrificed, negated in an instant by the person he loved and trusted most. Of all the characters here, Wyll (tied with Halsin) sounds the most obviously broken, and it's easy to see why, given that he is self-sacrificing to a fault.

There was a set of scenes datamined from the game, where at the Morphic Pool, the Netherbrain would have taunted the players, causing them to hallucinate things related to their fears and insecurities. Wyll's would have been a vision of himself talking about how he was never a hero, how the Blade of Frontiers was a farce all along. One can't help but think about that scene here, wondering just how much blame, bordering on self-loathing, he might feel here.

Dark Justiciar Shadowheart:

I... I'm coming to you, Lady Shar.

Another short and simple one. By becoming a Dark Justiciar, Shadowheart has fully embraced the nihilism of Shar's teachings. Why be saddened or angry at her own death when this is just what she's embraced with all her sacrifices?

(Sidenote: this does also answer a question I had, namely, what was going to happen to everyone Durge kills. Thankfully it seems they aren't actually going to be sacrificed to him as such, and will indeed end up in the realm of their deities. This makes Bhaal's plan even DUMBER, because deities in DND lore need worshippers to have enough power to exist. Killing everyone at once just guarantees that soon after Durge dies as the last person alive, so too will Bhaal fade from existence.)

Selunite Shadowheart:

I... I thought we were going to save each other...

This Shadowheart rejected everything she knew. She was scared to defy her goddess, but worked up the courage- thanks to you. She thought you would have a new life together. She believed in you. She thought she would get to return the favor, and help you turn the page on Bhaal, too.

She's not just heartbroken for herself; she's heartbroken for you, too. Heartbroken at the life you denied both her and yourself.

Gale:

You made me want to live...

From the moment the orb entered Gale's chest, he knew he was at risk of dying. Then Mystra all but marked him as a dead man walking. But despite that, he finds love with you- and for the first time thinks maybe there is a purpose for him beyond Mystra. That he isn't more useful to the world dead. More than that, he wants to live to be with you, to enjoy your company and companionship. And then you kill him, and do the one thing WORSE than what would have happened if he'd never been pulled from that rock.

It almost would have been kinder to just hack his hand off the first time you met him, though Gale may or may not agree.

Spawn Astarion:

I should have killed you when I had the chance...

The angriest, most bitter response out of all the romanced companions, a step beyond Karlach's "fuck you." This is beyond "fuck you" and even beyond "I hate you." It's "I regret every moment I spent with you." You made him believe he could have better. That he could recover from what Cazador did. You even convinced him to spare the 7,000 spawn and that he could be something better than Cazador.

And now you reveal it was all a lie. Astarion is probably thinking that you talked him out of completing the ritual solely so he'd be easier to kill right here and now. How many regrets are flashing through his mind, how many moments where he wonders if things could have been different if only he'd done this or that, even aside from killing you?

All he wanted was to live as a free person. And then the first time he thinks he has that at last, he loses it as the world ends.

Ascended Astarion:

No... no, this can't be... I can't- you can't- no...

In contrast to spawn Astarion, ascended isn't angry, because he doesn't have the clarity, the ability to process what's happening. Spawn Astarion could tell he'd been betrayed.

But Ascended? Ascended, who went through so much to become one of the most powerful beings in the world, only to STILL lose without fanfare? And by you, his own spawn who he thought he had under his control? It isn't betrayal, because he is bluescreening; he can't comprehend what happened or how or why. How could he have been killed, and by you of all people? Was all he went through killing Cazador really for nothing? How could it be when he was supposed to be the most powerful? Was power actually meaningless all along?

He doesn't say anything of substance because he can't understand what's happening here.

Halsin:

Thaniel... goodbye...

Halsin is the oldest of all the companions. He's experienced the most loss of anyone; his birth family, his fellow Druids, and, for a time, Thaniel. He has had more than enough time to contemplate his own mortality, because he's already lived multiple lifetimes.

So here, two things are happening. One, he isn't expressing anger or betrayal at his murder- because he is more than wise enough, and humble enough, to understand that there are worse things than what has been done to himself. Instead of himself, he is thinking of the world he's leaving behind that is about to fall- and most of all, of his most important person, the one who gave him a purpose, who was there when no one else was, who he failed once and only just got back. The closest thing to a child he'll ever have. In his last moments, instead of himself, Halsin is thinking of those he loves.

And second, it's an almost deliberate snubbing of Durge. He willingly walked into that kiss, knowing full well it would be the last thing he ever did. He gave you his death, he pleaded with his own god to forgive you and him both. He gave you everything he felt he owed you, and no more- no begging or sobbing. Instead, he comes as close as he ever gets to selfishness, and spends his last moments thinking about the thing that makes him the happiest- which could have been you, in another life, if you hadn't done this.

Minthara:

No... we were meant to do this together...

Heartbreak, disbelief, and betrayal. You spent so many nights planning this out. She had been cast aside by her people, her goddess, and she was going to get the last laugh. She was going to crush them personally under her heel and prove she was the best (or second best, behind you) of all of them. She's devastated she won't get to help you torture all those souls and take what she feels was owed to her. But interestingly enough... no anger. Probably because it was overshadowed by the sheer heartbreak, but also a sign that even in those moments, she still admires you for your ruthlessness.

[literaila]

kid megumi and gojo definitely took bubble baths together while megumi washes his hair and satoru's just yapping about how much he loves reader

“megumi,” gojo says, not even bothering to knock on the door.

it’s the boys fault, really, for leaving it open in the first place.

megumi stills, brows furrowing as his hands stop foaming the soap in his hair. “gojo?” he asks, a bit disbelieving.

he might be going crazy—it’s not uncommon for sorcerers. and megumi barely thought he would make it to fourteen and here he is, so. he should probably tell someone about the hallucinations but—

“you got it,” gojo answers, predictably, sitting on the toilet seat. “i need to talk to you.”

megumi peaks his head around the shower curtain slowly, blinking a few times to make sure the man is really there.

but he is, grinning at the tiny bit of megumi he can see, tapping his fingers on his knees obnoxiously.

megumi points a hand towards the door. “this is an invasion of privacy.”

“megumi,” gojo gives him a bland look. “i’ve seen you naked.”

“that’s creepy.”

gojo sighs, hanging his head. “we’ve known each other for so long now, and you still don’t trust me.”

“you still haven’t given me a reason to. can’t this wait? or not happen? i don’t want to talk to you.”

yes, megumi is still hanging halfway out of the shower. yes, his hair is dripping water on the floor. no, he does not care—it’s gojo’s house anyway. he can fix the ruined floorboards.

“it’s about your mother.”

at that megumi blinks. “what’d you do?“

“i didn’t do anything.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, i’m sure,” gojo scoffs, reaching out to pull his ear—which megumi expertly deflects (he almost slips and dies in the process). “am i crying on the floor right now?”

megumi considers it. then he recalls the last time you and gojo had a fight. he had to check gojo’s pulse every time he walked past the couch.

“good point. what is it?”

“as you know, her birthday is coming up—“

“are you serious?”

“megumi.” gojo’s eyes are dubious, his voice is disapproving. “your mothers birthday is very important.”

megumi rolls his eyes. “i know. i mean, are you seriously asking me about this right now? im in the shower. there’s shampoo in my hair.”

gojo nods very seriously. “it’s the only place she won’t hear.”

“she’s not even home.”

“she’s hidden cameras, megumi, i know it.”

“no she hasn’t.”

gojo pouts. “i want it to be a surprise. she always finds out about her gifts before i can give them to her.”

“that’s because you tell her.”

“the suspense is too much. i need you to buy her something for me and hide it so i don’t know what it is.”

he sounds absolutely serious, which might be the worst part of that request, actually.

and when has megumi ever done gojo a favor?

“gojo,” megumi gives him a little smirk, tilting his head. “i’m not doing that.”

gojo groans, falling onto the floor. “c’mon, megumi, we’re supposed to be friends.”

“you’re my teacher, if anything.”

“and your father,” he juts his chin, “favoritism is not cute.”

“good.”

megumi finally turns around. gojo was never going to leave, even if he’d attempted to tackle him out of the door.

and he’s used to this, anyway. there hasn’t been a day in seven years that he’s gotten some peace.

“okay,” gojo begins again, sounding like he’s won—which he hasn’t. “i was thinking some jewelry, but you know how picky she is. and besides, she’s too rough for something small. tsumiki is already getting her that chibi mug we saw in that corner store last weekend, and whatever you’re getting is off of the table too.”

“i’m not listening to this.”

“i could take her out to dinner, but that’s not a gift. and i do that anyway. maybe i should buy her a car—what kind do you think she’d like? something blue, like my eyes—“

megumi groans.

gojo pauses. “did you get soap in your eye?”

honestly, banging his head against the wall might be better than this. at least they have pain killers at the hospital.

megumi doesnt answer, no longer entertaining this, but gojo continues anyway.

“maybe we should re-do the bathroom, you know how she’s always saying that—“

god, when will it end?

[tyinghershoe]

This with bakugo except yall aren't dating and he has a lil crush

I died laughing reading this. I couldn’t NOT write this out.

Bakugo finds out that you’re telling people he’s your babies father.

Above all, Bakugo is flustered!  

Sure, the first shock arose a hint of anger and embarrassment - as expected when your crush is telling people all sorts of things - but afterward, there was an underlying feeling of giddiness, a type of glow as he thought about how “holy shit, y/n talks about me? I'm on their mind?” 

So, it’s safe to say that he isn’t ENTIRELY bothered, but he is confused. You talk here and there sure, being a part of the same friend group does that, but there was never and inclination that feelings were reciprocated, nor has there ever been a moment that could lead to, well, the current gossip you're spreading around now (He doesn’t want to this too much about this aspect though). 

Now here he is, sitting down in the common area waiting for you to walk right in (you come in every day at exactly 5:28 to watch a show with Mina! Not that he memorized that or anything) so he can hopefully get an answer out of you. 

As expected, there you are. Trotting down to sit on the couch while holding on to your favorite snack, you brought the smaller bag this time, which means you won't be staying down here for long. Actually, you won't be staying here at all, as Bakugo stands up the moment you two make eye contact. 

“Y/n, we need to talk,” he says, choosing to ignore the slight shake of his voice. The confused look on your face is all he needs to know, as he does his best to keep a calm attitude. Stay cool, Bakugo! The last thing he wants is for you to think that you’re just as much of a nuisance as his other friends.  

“Sure.” Confused as you are, you still walk towards him as he strides slightly away from the couches and into a more private area. This is for his sake only, as you seem unaffected by his cryptic commands.  

An urge to stay calm sits in the back of his head, and he turns to stare into your eyes. 

“Hey.”  

“...hey?” 

FUCK! He thinks - that wasn’t what he planned at all! “Was that too casual? Should I just be straight up? She probably doesn’t even like me, screw it.” 

“Why are you telling people in your baby’s father?” The twitch of his eye goes unnoticed, and only now does he realize that the situation is as stupid as it seems. There's an echo in the hall, adding amplification to the tension. 

You however look at him nonchalantly and shrug your shoulders a bit. 

“I don’t know. Bored as hell.” 

That’s all that comes out of your mouth, and for a split-second Bakugo thinks that maybe you really are a nuisance, or maybe Denki accidentally fried your head, only that can explain this reasoning. 

“That’s it? You’re telling people that because you’re bored?” He gasps as if that explanation isn’t good enough (it really isn’t), but you are undoubtedly you - so the chuckle that escaped your lips is one of obvious reasoning. 

“I mean what am I supposed to do?” It’s as simple as that, really. It comes off as almost factual: the sky is blue, the grass is green, Bakugo is the father to your baby.  

“Study, train, use a different dude for your damned rumors.” His voice is laced with grit, but the faint hue of pink that is laced onto his ears and cheeks is noticed by you.  

“Like you’d let that happen!” You challenge. 

 His voice hitches for a second. He wants to scream at you, say that “Obviously I wouldn’t! That bastard you’d pick wouldn’t even compare to me! Have fun having an ugly baby with whoever comes next!” but all that comes out is a simple scoff, “As if.” 

You just smile, and feign innocence to the fact that you know he’s jealous. He sighs and looks at his shoes for a minute, grumbling something softly. 

“At least let me take you out first.” the words are so faint you swear you’re hallucinating. But the shifting of his body lets you know it isn’t a joke.  

“Really?” A smile is etched onto your face, and that “unbothered” attitude of yours quickly folds, showing your true excitement. 

“Yes really!” he begins abrasively, “If you’re gonna be spewing some of your weirdo stuff, then at least let me go out with you for real. The last thing I want is some more rumors.” The excuse is aggressive and simplified, but it’s good enough for the both of yall.  

A nod of your head is all he needs for approval, and finally, he can breathe. 

“Tomorrow?” You ask softly, as it is now your turn to act coy. 

Theres a hum of approval, and he turns to leave – which is for the best, there’s only so much giddiness two lovers can take. 

“Tomorrow.” 

He walks away. 

“I’m not retracting what I told everyone earlier!” the halls echo, but it’s now a reminder of the turning chapter. 

Check out my masterlist here!

[ashjade19]

Siren Aemond x (fem) reader

TW: SMUT, dubcon, breeding (?), threatening, alcohol consumption (not much tho)

“I feel like this camping trip will be good for us! There’s nothing quite like reconnecting with nature,” Alys, my best friend since childhood, smiles at me as we set up our tent.

“If that’s what the birthday girl wishes,” I grin back at her. We’ve hiked to a hill overlooking a giant lake, green surrounds us from every angle. While Alys and I have practically grown up in our backyards, it's been a while since I’ve been in the woods, due to me having moved to the city five years ago for work. As an office worker, I have barely been able to take a few days off to relax, so for me to be able to come out into the mountains with my best friend is a miracle in itself.

The day is spent setting up camp, taking smaller hikes through the mountain and fishing in the lake next to our campsite. We are the only people we’ve seen so far, but Alys and I both love the tranquility and the opportunity to be truly ourselves. The strange thing is that I feel like we are being watched the entire time as we fish. When I bring it up to the dark haired woman, she just shrugs.

“Maybe ghosts,” she jokes and though I may laugh along with her, I still feel the prickling sensation of a stare. It isn't until later that evening that I loosen up and forget about the piercing stare with the help of some alcohol and a fun campfire dinner (of ramen noodles) with my best friend.

“Right, well I’m tired. Bedtime?” Alys gets up to start getting ready for bed. She braids her long black hair and makes sure her nose piercings and earrings are still in place before grabbing her toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Go ahead, I want to put my feet into the lake,” I take a flashlight and blanket with me to the shore, it’s early summer so my sweatpants and old t-shirt should keep me warm enough.

“Okay, see you in a bit,” she calls out to me and I simply grin back and make my trek down to the water that laps gently at the sandy shore.

I sit near the water, taking my shoes off and letting my feet soak in the cool water while admiring the brightness of the stars, full moon, and how tranquil nature can be. Just as I close my eyes, I hear an agitation in the water. I open my eyes to be met with one lilac eye and a…gem? I fall back after making a startled gasp.

“What the hell?!” I study the figure in front of me. Long, pin straight, silver hair that practically glows in the moonlight. A piercing lilac eye and a sapphire in place of the other eye. As the figure lifts itself out of the water more and more, I notice that what I’m looking at is not human. I scramble to my feet and back away, studying the…thing in front of me that has a very apparent midnight black tail and a dorsal fin on his back.

“Did I drink too much? I’m hallucinating, right? Merpeople aren’t real, maybe I’ve read ‘The Odyssey’ and other mythologies a few too many times,” I mumble to myself, mostly trying to convince myself that this isn’t real. I flinch, however, when the monster in front of me chuckles, his sharp teeth on display. They look as sharp as shark’s teeth, making a shiver go down my spine.

“Hm, smart human,” his voice is deep, smooth, and sultry.

“Now the hallucination is talking, great. Alys! Alys, we may have a problem-” I turn to run towards the campsite, but am stopped when a slick hand closes around my ankle and yanks me into the creature’s chest. My eyes widen, the creature is not a hallucination, I know this from his cold skin touching my back. His skin is wet, cold, and I can feel patches of scales while the majority of his chest is made up of soft and smooth skin. Right as I’m about to scream the monster tugs me closer to him and puts his free hand over my mouth.

“Sh, humans certainly are loud,” his mouth is so close to my ear, I can feel his breath drift from the shell of my ear to the side of my neck.

“But you smell so perfect,” he mutters and if I wasn’t panicking before I am now.

“Please don’t eat me! I swear I won’t taste good!” I managed to spit out from behind his fingers.

“Eat you?” He chuckles, which should probably make me less nervous, as the words imply that he won’t be eating me, but it only makes me more anxious.

“Hmm, no. I wouldn’t be a good mate if I ate you, now would I?”

“Mate? As in, like, friend?” I ask nervously, hopefully, after he removes his hand from my mouth.

“No.”

“Well I don’t know any other kind of mate-”

“Humans, so smart yet so stupid,” the creature growls.

“Well then, explain it to the ‘stupid human’, will you?!” I make my own snide remark, though my voice still shakes slightly with fear. He hums thoughtfully for a moment, turning my face slightly to the side so I can see him better. He traces my jawline and then my lips with his frighteningly sharp nails, reminiscent of talons. My eyes follow his nails as best as I can, fearing he might cut me.

“You smell like you are my mate, and my mate must be an intelligent one. So, figure it out, darling. I’ve given you enough clues,” I can’t think for a moment, I’m so scared that nothing enters my brain. Then everything floods the gates of my brain. Mate: associate or companion, match or peer; (transitive verb) equal, match, or couple. Couple…as in copulation? Well shit.

“You can’t be talking about the animal kind of mate…right?”

“Very good, the gods chose you well for me,” his grin is unnerving, partially due to the sharp teeth he has on display, but also because of a certain glint in his eye. It’s dark, sinful and full of lust.

“Sirens may live long lives, but heirs come approximately once every fifty or so years. We have certain years in our prime when we are more likely to produce heirs. When the time nears, we hunger for our mate. Our bodies will connect with the mate chosen for us by the gods, and it would seem that you are my chosen mate,” the creature explains while dragging me more into the water. No matter how much I kick and fight against him, his grip is unrelenting.

“But I’m a human! We can’t mate!” The water is to my waist now, my sweatpants are soaked and it looks as though I won’t be able to escape his grasp anytime soon.

“It matters not, I know sea witches capable enough to turn you into a mermaid or siren. Now, say goodbye to land, your feet will never touch dry land again.”

I look at him, confused.

“This is a lake, where are we going?”

“Oh, what a cute human I have. There are tunnels that connect this lake and a few others to the ocean,” he coos and explains while I frown, that shouldn’t be possible. Even if it is possible, humans have done enough exploring around here to have known about that.

“It’s well hidden and guarded, humans would not have found it and lived.”

“Take me back, or I will scream. My friend will get help before you can take me out to sea,” it’s somewhat of a bluff, and apparently a poor one as the creature doesn’t stop his movements of swimming us both farther from the shore. I take in a deep breath, ready to scream, when he slaps a hand over my mouth.

“Scream, and I’ll sing so that friend of yours drowns in front of you, and it would be your fault,” he threatens and I immediately stop, not wanting Alys to get hurt.

“Good girl, that’s my mate. You have some common sense after all, my darling,” he coos into my ear. He finally takes his hand from my mouth after not-so-playfully nibbling on my neck. A small squeak makes its way out of me before I can quell it. I feel his smirk on my skin before he kisses the spot he just nibbled on.

“What do I call you, my sweet nymph?” His velvety smooth voice is so close to my ear. I tell him my name and he hums.

“My name is Aemond, though I wouldn’t mind if you call me your mate or…mm, no. I can’t wait to hear you scream my name over and over again until it’s all you know.” He moves me quickly so that my chest is pressed against his before he finally drags the both of us beneath the water.

Cold water envelops my body and my squirming body’s movements are halted by Aemond's arms wrapping themselves tightly around me. I try to hold my breath for as long as I can, but he had given me no warning before dunking us beneath the murky water.

In only seconds, although it feels more like hours, I run out of air. Aemond is close enough so that I can see his wicked smirk even in the dark water. The bastard can see that I’ve run out of air! He’s practically reveling in it! My eyes shut after a moment, my lungs burn, and I’m choking on water. I don’t want to die like this.

Only a second after I close my eyes, I feel cold lips claim mine. My jaw is forcibly opened and air is pushed into my mouth. I suck in the air, allowing him to pull me closer.

I feel my shirt ripped off of my body.

I feel my bra get unhooked and forced off of me.

I feel him tear off every article of clothing that remained on me.

His claws feel every inch of my skin.

It almost feels like he is worshiping every freckle, stretch mark, bump, beauty mark, and scar. His hands draw circles and other shapes into my skin as I can do nothing but breathe in the air he is giving me. His finger circles my sensitive pearl like a shark does its prey. I try not to gasp too much, as I’m still relying on him for oxygen.

Relying on him for oxygen. I hate this. I hate that he’s forcing me to rely on him to do something as simple as breathing. But most of all, I despise how good he’s making me feel. It feels like there's an electric current running through me, from the tip of my fingers to my toes. His tongue darts into my mouth and I feel my tongue caressing his.

His touch leaves me breathless, his lips starting a fire in me. He swallows my moans when his fingers leave my pearl alone and start to pump in and out of me. My walls pulsate around his pointer and middle finger while one of my own fingers travels down to rub circles on my clit. I don’t know which of us breaks the kiss, but suddenly my head is tilted back and his lips are around my left nipple. A moan is drawn out of me and I regret that as soon as I accidentally breathe in water. I barely notice Aemond chuckling while I panic, needing oxygen. The panic breaks whatever spell like trance I was under and I am back to clawing at him, desperate for air. I see him roll his eye before flicking his tail and taking us above water.

I cough and gasp, not being able to get enough air into my burning lunge. As I am focused on breathing, I vaguely feel the sensation of Aemond’s hands wrapping my bare legs around his waist, where scales meet skin. I hadn’t even noticed him gliding us through the water until my back met the cool sensation of a rock. I look around me, now noticing we are in a small cave. The cave is about ten feet wide, but there is air and that is all that matters to me at the moment.

Then I feel it. The sensation of being speared open by Aemond.

It burns at first, as it would if you aren’t prepared well enough.

“You can take it,” he grunts as he continues to enter me inch by inch. When he finally sheaths himself all the way in he stills his movements, allowing me to breathe and for my body to become accustomed to him. In the meantime, he places hot kisses down my neck, to my shoulder, and back up my neck.

“Ready, little nymph?” I gaze into his lilac orb and sapphire in place of his other eye and give a short nod. He moves slowly but is so deep in me, that it feels euphoric. His lips meet mine again and I melt into the kiss. I can’t hold back anymore, can’t hold back the pleasure. Aemond feels so right, so perfect. It really does feel like he’s a match made for me by the gods. Our lips break apart and he dives his head into my chest, giving sloppy kisses down the slope of my breasts before stopping at my right mound. I throw my head back in ecstasy when I feel myself about to fall over the edge.

“Come for me. Let go and feel my love for you,” he moans after lifting his head from my breast. His lips let go of my nipple with a wet pop, before he moves his head down to the other nipple to give it the same treatment.

And I do, I fall right over the edge for what feels like an eternity. All I see is white, I can hear nothing but the blood rushing to my head. I can’t tell if I’m moaning or screaming his name, I only vaguely feel my mouth moving and the vibrations in my throat. When I come down from my high, I see him falling from his own high. Then I feel his essence deep in me, dripping out of me like honey when his member leaves my hot cavern.

“Such a perfect mate,” Aemond breathes out, tugging me into his chest as his arms wrap around me.

“I can’t wait to see you with our heir.”

Author’s note: to anyone reading this: hi! It’s been a while and I’ve really missed writing so hopefully I’ll start posting more 🤷‍♀️ BUT in honor of Halloween and monstober, I really wanted to post this fic. Also, I’m gonna be so real, this is the first time I’ve ever written smut. so if anyone has any tips or feedback for me, I’d love to hear it! Thanks for reading this far, I really hope you have a great day! And HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!🎃

[bamboozledbird]

𝕚𝕗 𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 // stiles stilinski imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall Pairing(s): Stiles x fem!reader, Stiles x you (no use of y/n), Theo x fem!reader, Stiles x ofc Word Count: 7k (bbygurl got away from me oops) Tags: Hurt/a little, itty bit of comfort, angst is my lifeblood i fear, let's play a game of who can find all the noah kahan lyrics Warnings: Underage drinking/drug use (at least in america rip, they're all 19+), suggestive language, some light cheating, i think that's it?, sad girl summer :'(

Request: “You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!” for stiles please and thnk you!!!

Part II: after many requests, here’s the happy ending: part two A/N: i am well aware theo is way too nice, and me personally?? could never forgive him for hurting scott mccall, the light of my fucking life. but it's for the plot. the things we must do for the plot of it all. i might make a part two? but this was already long, and i liked the conclusion enough to stop. lemme know if that sounds interesting to y'all. ps: listen to strawberry wine and the view between villages for vibes.

That first night, you drove home—207 miles in less than 3 hours, sobbing the entire way. Didn’t matter that you were right in the middle of finals. Didn’t matter that you had Math 19 at 8:00 in the morning. Nothing mattered except for the ringing in your ears, the blistering echoes of, ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ over and over and over again until you stumbled into the house you grew up in—the house he practically grew up in. He was all over every room, all over your entire goddamn hometown, all over you, and you had this desperate, crawling urge to scrub your skin raw. Strip everything away with turpentine until the shadows of his hands and mouth were gone, until you couldn’t smell cedar and 15 years of summer nights and Sunday mornings. 

That night you cried so hard it scared your sister. She spent most of the night with her back slumped against your bedroom door, fingertips poking through the little crack underneath, just like she did the first night your parents brought you home. She had to know that you were breathing, had to make sure that your little chest was rising and falling in your sweet bassinet—if you were inhaling in-between your fractured sobs. You eventually cried yourself to sleep—like a baby, like a broken heart—and thrashed around sweat-damp sheets and dreams of him kissing someone else on his couch. 

Months later, you finally realize it’s a bit self-involved to think that the universe cares enough about your short, temporal existence to conspire against you…but it certainly feels like it when you tie it all together with red string. After Stiles stopped wanting you, everything just…decayed, rotted, died—so quickly, too quickly for you to bury any of the remains. You’re still grieving Allison, constantly, and currently failing at least half your classes, and, oh yeah, battling literal demons at least three times a week—but mostly, you’re just tired. You’re just so goddamn tired of it all.   

To put it plainly, you’re drowning. 

That must be why the neat lines of text in your Math 20 textbook are swirling into indecipherable whirlpools. It’s just so…frustrating. You get math. Math is your thing. Derivatives shouldn’t ever send you into a bout of angry tears—but you are, you’re angry. Angry at the numbers for blurring into something unrecognizable, angry at yourself for not recognizing them, for becoming a person you don’t know or like. Your lashes clump together, and few mascara-tinted tears drop onto the glossy pages. At least, the cloudy text isn’t a hallucination now. 

 “Are you okay?”

The library is quiet, so quiet that you should’ve heard him coming, but you jump at the sound of Theo’s voice. You don’t know him that well; Theo isn’t really the kind of guy you’d talk to, at least not before everything you knew slipped through your fingers. It’s not like you ever disliked him; it’s just…he’s always been everything you’re not—focused, organized, completely in control. He’s confident but not cocky, smart but not arrogant, ridiculously good-looking but just charismatic enough that you can’t really hate him for all the maiming and scheming he pulled last year. He’s been punished enough, you think, and sure—maybe a part of you feels that way simply because Stiles doesn’t.

You haven’t spoken to Theo much, not really. Scott does most of the talking when he shows up to the occasional pack meeting, and Lydia won’t let him within ten feet of you anyway. Frankly, you don’t realize that he knows your name until he says it. His voice is soft in a way that you know isn’t just because of library conduct. It’s his eyes, you think—they’re warm with a concern you aren’t sure what you’ve done to deserve.

You nod and then blink at the fuzzy pages of your math book, eyes almost vacant, “I just…I don't understand.”

Theo sits down next to you and leans forward, scanning the text briefly, “Which part?”

You flush, “...all of it.”

He doesn’t laugh or roll his eyes like you thought he might. Instead, he pulls his chair closer to yours and reaches for a pencil. “Most people will tell you that derivatives are the ‘instantaneous rates of change.’ That’s what the book says, and it’s kind of true, but you’re right—that doesn’t actually make any sense. Things can’t actually change in a single instant, right? Obviously, change happens between two instances, so what they actually mean is a derivative's the rate of instantaneous change measured as precisely as possible.” Theo’s voice is soft in your ear as he drags his finger across your textbook, connecting the vague definitions to numbers that actually compute through your teary haze.

You sit back and just watch for a minute, a little in awe, as he makes all the squiggles into numbers again—and you haven’t been found more than a few feet away from him ever since. You guess it’s because you’re hoping, against all odds, that he can do the same for your life. At least in some small way, maybe.

It’s definitely easier to show up to Lydia's party with his hand in yours. 

You’re all back in Beacon Hills for the summer, and it’s nice. It really is. During the school year, you’re spread all across the state for the most part—you, Theo, and Lydia at Stanford; Scott, Kira, and Malia at UC-Davis; Liam and Mason, the babies, about to start their senior year of high school (it makes you want to cry if you think about it too long); Derek in…wherever he ends up for a season (it was fun to visit while he was in New York, and you secretly hope he makes a return in the fall); and, of course, there’s Stiles. He’s all the way on the other side of the country for his Quantico internship, and you still can’t escape him. His hands are all over your scent, all over every important moment of your life since pre-school. Sometimes, you think that you’ll always be one breath away from choking on the memory of him. But it’s easier, you remind yourself; it’s easier to be a minute away from home with Theo standing next to you. 

The music is loud in Lydia’s front room, thumping through your chest and sharpening the anxiety crawling through your veins—gnawing at your corneas until a haze of vape and weed and flashing lights consume your vision: pink, blue, green, red, and then pink again.

Theo tightens his grip on your hand and gently pulls you into the kitchen. It’s still loud, but the air is clearer here, and the crowd is thin. There’s a couple you vaguely recognize from high school making out on the granite countertop, too enwrapped in each other’s tongues to notice the mixer-sticky surface, and a couple boys who were on the lacrosse team gather drinks for another round of beer pong behind them. 

“You’re psychic,” you hum, resting your chin against the little dip in Theo’s sternum so that you can grin up at him, “tell the truth.”

He laughs easily and wraps his arms around your waist. The solid weight releases some of the vague unease stubbornly clinging to your synapses. “I solemnly swear that my supernatural abilities end at claws and fangs. I just know you; that’s all.” 

You hum as he sways with you a little and shake your head, “It’s only been a few weeks. You’ve gotta have some help from the other side.”

Theo shrugs and lifts you onto the counter behind him—a non-sticky patch, thankfully—and brushes your hair out of your eyes, “Maybe I’ve been paying attention for a little longer than a few weeks.”

You tilt your head and purse your lips into a pout you hope is even half as cute as the wicked gleam in Theo’s eyes, “How long?”

He shrugs again and ducks down to murmur in your ear, “Maybe since the first grade.”

His breath is warm against your cheek, but you know that’s not the only reason your face feels hot. You push against his chest, pulling a little face, “Shut up.”

Theo laughs and grabs your wrists, kissing your knuckles, “I’m serious! You were so cute with your little pigtails and missing teeth.”

You whine a little, embarrassed as you are as pleased, and hide your face in his neck. It smells good, a little citrusy from his cologne and a little sweaty from the sheer amount of grinding bodies in the house—like a man, like he can and will take care of you. “Stop it. I hated those bangs.”

He pinches your sides a little, “And the way you’d always shoot your hand up first—with the right answer, of course—I was smitten.”

You pull away from his neck and arch your brow, “Was?”

“Am,” he concedes with a soft smile, cupping your cheek and thumbing along your lash line, “am completely smitten.” 

He dips in to kiss you, lips barely an eyelash-width away from yours, when a prim cough pulls him away from his spot in-between your legs. You peer around his shoulder and roll your eyes, albeit fondly, at the stern look on Lydia’s face. She’s always been protective of you, even more so after Allison and the whole Stiles debacle, but you’re a bit tired of the Theo Raeken witch hunt. 

You slip down from the counter and rock onto your tiptoes to kiss Theo’s cheek—mainly to see the pinch in Lydia’s perfectly tapered brows. “Can you put this in the coat room,” you hum against his skin, shrugging off your baggy leather jacket. He knows the real reason you’re sending him away—of course he does, sometimes it feels like he knows everything—but he goes with a smirk anyway because, despite Lydia and Stiles’s suspicions, he’s trying his absolute hardest to redeem himself. 

“You could be a little nicer, y’know,” you reach for a hard lemonade from the ice bucket dripping a puddle of water onto the tile floor. You uncap it on the lip of the massive island and fold your arms over your chest, “He’s been nothing but the perfect boyfriend so far.”

Lydia matches your stance, brows curving, “Boyfriend?”

Heat crawls up your neck to your ears. You haven’t actually discussed labels or exclusivity—you think it’s too early; don’t want to scare him off, but Lydia doesn’t need to know that. “Boyfriend.”

Her curls trickle over her shoulder like the strawberry wine in her cup as she tips her chin and purses her lips into a flat line, “Stiles is here.” 

You try not to react—aren’t entirely sure why you do—and hide your complicated frown behind a sip of lemonade. It’s extra bitter going down. “Okay?”

Lydia shifts her weight from one Jimmy Choo to the other and sighs heavily, “He’s not going to like it.”

A flare of irritation sparks in your gut that you chase with a tip of your bottle. “Okay?” you mutter, wiping the excess liquid away with the back of your hand. A smear of nude lipstick is left behind, and you feel the sudden need to leave some on Theo’s neck for everyone to see. 

“I’m just warning you; it’s going to be a whole thing,” Lydia waves her hand in the air as she takes a dainty sip from her cup. Her pink manicure shines under the lights, and you wonder briefly how she can make every color look good with her red hair.

You hum and lean forward, grin a little sloppy as you sidle up to her side, “That you’ll be on my side for. Obviously.”

Lydia watches you carefully, eyes heavy, and tucks some of the hair falling in your face behind your ear. “Obviously,” she takes your hand, squeezing it tightly, and you feel a little less giggly and a lot more tender. 

You let her pull you into the crowded front room for a dance. It’s a good song, you think. Happy, lots of bass to jump to, and you’re shiny-faced and giddy by the time it’s over. 

Meandering towards the back patio for some fresh air, you pull your tank top away from your torso, gauzy material sticky with sweat and someone’s body glitter. You aren’t entirely sure where Theo ended up, but you take it as a good sign that he’s mingling with your friends—which, bless his crooked little heart, is all he’s ever wanted. 

The night breeze is so nice against your clammy skin that you feel a little lightheaded. You collapse on a padded deckchair and kick your feet up onto a keg, empty, most likely, based on its current state of abandonment. After a moment of hazy tranquility, a red solo cup filled to the brim with an unknown, potent liquid blocks your view of the winking gold embellishments on your boots. 

“You look like you need a drink,” Scott smiles at you from his slight bend over your head.

You take the cup from Scott eagerly and down about half of it to soothe the rawness in your throat—asthma is a bitch in hotboxes, makes you almost consider asking Scott for the bite. “I need about ten,” you hum, licking the little dribble of cherry-something from the corner of your mouth. It’s too sweet, but the ice is easing the beginnings of a headache forming in your temples. 

Scott sits down next to you, and you grumble a little as he nudges your side with his elbow until he has enough room to stretch his legs out too. “You look happy,” he grins at you, eyes crinkly and sweet. “Been a minute since I’ve seen that.”

“I feel happy,” you lean against his side and rest your cup against your cheek. The condensation gathered on the plastic is a godsend against your flushed face. “For the first time in…way too long.”

“Good,” Scott's voice is sincere, in the most genuinely empathic way that only Scott McCall can be, and he gently nudges your foot with his, “I’ve been worried.” He pauses and looks down at the contents of his cup, watches the ice slowly melt into whatever he poured for taste alone—you don’t like the pensive squint in his eyes. “You know I want to trust Theo, right? I really want to believe that he’s changed.”

You sigh a little, but because he only ever wants the best for everyone and, well, because it’s Scott, you say, “But?”

He gives his hands a small frown and taps his finger against the side of his drink, “Not a but, exactly. I do think he’s different now.” The mostly goes unsaid, and you watch him closely, waiting for him to finish. “I just want you to be careful, that’s all. I don’t want you to…rush into anything after, well,” Scott scratches the back of his neck a little and winces, “you know.”

“After Stiles dumped me because, ‘he needed space,’ and then started dating someone new two weeks later,” you finish for him flatly. He hadn’t even been subtle about it. His new girl was all over his Insta within the month—and she’s still fucking stunning in his flannels weeks later. Your stomach turns, but you swallow another mouthful of your dri—rum and Cherry Coke, you finally place the flavor, smiling a little at the memory of getting tipsy on the same drink at Senior prom with Scott, Kira, and…Stiles. It’s a good memory, you decide. You won’t let him take it from you.

“Yeah.” Scott sighs into his drink and then takes a long chug, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again, you know? None of us do.”

“I know,” you smile at him fondly and kiss his cheek, “and it’s very sweet, but I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.” 

Scott smiles, bright and puppy-like, and then his head cocks with his little sixth-sense tick—also puppy-like, you think with a smirk. Scott’s grin fades and he murmurs, “Three o��clock,” against the rim of his cup.

Your eyebrows furrow, “What?”

Scott laughs, but it’s strained, and then nods towards something across the pool, “To your right.”

You turn your head, expecting to see one of your friends doing something stupid, and freeze momentarily when you meet Stiles’s gaze. His eyes are a little unfocused, murky with whatever’s in his plastic cup, but they sharpen when he sees you. He backs down first, and you polish off your drink, craving the sweet burn in your throat. “I need another drink.”

“You need to talk to him,” Scott says, and he takes your empty cup away from you, like he’s worried you can magically refill it with the simple power of desire. “If you can’t do it for him, do it for me. His brooding is really getting out of control.”

You don’t bother bringing up that Stiles is the one who ended it or that he brought his new girlfriend home with him. “Maybe,” you shoot Scott a sly grin and try to snag his drink from his hands, but your clumsy fingers are no match for his werewolf reflexes, “I do love and cherish you very, very much.”

Scott laughs and ruffles your hair, approaching noogie territory. “Should’ve gone out with me.”

You can’t help but look for him through the fog rising above the heated pool. Stiles’s face is pale in the reflection of the lit water; the shadows ripple across his cheeks when he tugs his girlfriend into a sloppy kiss—Chelsea, you recall, proud that there’s only a little bitterness coating the thought. “Don’t I know it,” you finally say. It’s the churning reflection and the smell of chlorine, you reason; that’s why you feel a bit like throwing up your last couple drinks.

Scott frowns when you don’t swat at his side or make fun of him, like you’d usually do in the face of such ridiculous teasing, and follows your gaze. “But that was never going to happen, huh,” he says quietly. “Not with the…” he trails off, face scrunching as he searches for the right words, ��throbbingly in love since birth thing.”

You laugh through the stabbing sensation in your chest. “Throbbingly?”

He waves his free hand as he takes another sip of his drink, “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t think I do,” you say, a small smile twitching on your face as Scott spills most of his red drink onto his white t-shirt.

He sighs and pulls the soaked material away from his chest, head darting around as he looks for something to mop up the mess. “You guys were just like…always ahead of everybody from the beginning, you know? Brains, love, all of it. I swear you guys were actually born like 30 years old, or maybe it's some kind of reincarnation, soulmate thing—okay, it probably has more to do with the…” 

“Early on-set trauma?” you fill-in for him, sparing him the unpleasantness of bringing up dead mothers and mental illness.

Scott nods and licks his bottom lip before continuing, “I remember this kid had a huge crush on you, like way back in elementary school, and even at nine years old I knew he didn’t have a shot. It was just obvious, you know? It was always going to be the two of you. It was just always gonna end up that way.”

You almost laugh at the sight: Scott dabbing at his shirt with a pink beach towel and oh-so casually confirming that your worst fears aren’t only valid but in fact a reality. Maybe, you really can’t love someone else, not the way you loved him. Maybe, you’re just kidding yourself when you talk about it in the past-tense. Maybe, it really is just the two of you, even if it’s all in your head now. 

“I’m definitely not drunk enough for this,” you try to sound flippant, but your words are as shaky as the hand you're raking through your hair. It’s already a mess, but you can’t stop. Your hands need to do something. 

“Then you’re really not gonna like what’s coming next,” Scott says as he jerks his thumb towards something behind him.

You turn your head, and your eyes widen when you see Stiles trudging towards the two of you with his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. The chair’s metal frame squeaks with Scott’s shifting weight. He clamors to his feet, mumbling something about cleaning his shirt, and you give him your most intimidating glower, “Scott, if you walk away from me right now, I swear to fuckin’ god, I’ll never—Hi.” Your tone is clipped, short and to the point, when Stiles stops in front of you.

“Hey,” Stiles’s voice is dull, void of emotion, and so is his face. He stares at you, and you wish you knew what was really flickering behind that burnt umber and citrine honey. There was a time when you would’ve known—when you always knew. It’s so strange, you think, so strange how quickly someone can become a stranger.

You clear your throat and tuck your legs underneath yourself, tugging on the hem of your short skirt to maintain some semblance of modesty. His eyes still dart to your upper thigh, lingering on the strip of skin that’s bared when you sit upright. It’s only for a split second—but it’s enough. He’s seen it before, after all. Felt it with his long fingers and open palms. Dragged his lips across it, and left wet, open-mouth kisses along every inch—but he still looks like he wants to sink his teeth into the supple flesh one last time. 

You swallow, hard, and stand, “So…how’ve you been?”

“Fine,” he replies flatly. “Obviously not as good as you.”

Your lips purse as your eyes narrow, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“First Theo Raeken, now Scott McCall: True Alpha, God among werewolves, Messiah of Beacon Hills. I’m genuinely impressed—bottom of my heart, babe. I mean, s’quite the body count if we’re talkin’ claws and body hair alone,” he spits. Despite the slight slur in his words, his consonants are barbed and serrated at the edges. They prick your skin and sting long after he finishes, and you know they’re going to follow you all the way home.

“Don’t be a dick,” you snap, wrapping your arms tightly around your biceps. The chill isn’t so pleasant anymore.  

“What? I’m just giving you the props you’ve so clearly earned. You’ve got the magic touch.” Stiles cants his head in a way that distinctly reminds you of someone else—a monster who stole the face of the boy you loved a lifetime ago. “I’d ask how good the sex is, but I already know. It’s that thing you do with your tongue, right? When you’re givin’ head? That’s how you get ‘em, huh. Suckers—” his drink spills on his shoes when he lets out a sharp chortle, “suckers. Didn’t even mean to do that.” 

You stare at him, eyes burning, and try to determine exactly how drunk he is. “Stop it.” You do your best to look more annoyed than devastated—the last thing you need is to start crying like you still care. He can't win; you won’t let him, not like this. “Just stop. It’s pathetic—you’re pathetic.”

Something complicated rolls over his face, and Stiles clenches his fists, “Whatever. Guess it’ll be too late to say told’ya so when he rips your heart out and broils it—or whatever the fuck psychopaths do for fun these days.” 

Your face crumples a little—not because you think Theo would ever actually hurt you but because Stiles sounds so ambivalent about the possibility. Sometimes you hate him, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot—but you’ve never stopped caring, not once. You never stop worrying about if he’ll make it out alive, if he'll survive with all his breakable bones and fragile skin intact. You find yourself staring at the ceiling until the sun rises, dwelling on all the horrific, life-or-death situations he’ll end up in when he graduates from the Academy years from now. Stiles was your best friend years before he was your boyfriend. Did all that really not matter now? Just because of something as stupid as a breakup? It’s just so…high school. You really thought it’d been…more. 

Everything. You used to think it was everything.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Stiles,” you shove past him, stumbling a bit over your boots’ chunky heel and a little too much rum. 

He doesn’t follow you, and you should be glad. You should be happy that he isn’t there to witness the black smears under your eyes or the snot you’re trying to hide with a few discreet sniffles. You should be grateful that he doesn’t see Theo pull you into his side and take you home, grateful that he can’t ruin the soft kisses Theo rains down on the crown of your head and the way he doesn’t push to come inside after you say your parents are gone.

But you aren’t, and you hate yourself for it. 

You barely manage to wipe off what’s left of your makeup with a damp towel and throw on some clean clothes before you tumble into bed. You’re still sweaty, grimy with tears and a night of dancing, but the rum is hitting hard, and you just want to go to sleep and forget he ever existed.

You’re halfway between sleep and consciousness in the early hours of the morning when you hear a loud thud against your bedroom window. The thudding continues, and with a great sigh you slip out of your sheets, hissing when your bare feet land on the cold floor. You slowly shuffle towards the bay window, trying to forget it's where you had your first kiss, and kneel on the cushioned bench. You have to rub at your eyes a few times when you see Stiles trying to break into your house. You only unlock the latch after you convince yourself that you’re going to push him off of the roof into the rose bushes two stories below, and then, of course, you sit back on your heels so that he has room to crawl through the narrow opening. 

“When the fuck did you start locking your window?” Stiles stumbles into your room and catches himself against the floor with his palm, feet still dangling over the windowsill. You take great pleasure in shoving his legs off of the window seat and watching him fall face-first onto the carpeted rug. He grunts when he lands and rubs his jaw as he sits up, “Guess I deserved that.” 

His lips part when he gets a good look at you, backlit by the moon and all his worst mistakes. You’re in an old t-shirt from middle school, bleach stains all along the left shoulder, and a pair of baggy sweatpants with ratty holes around the hem from years of dragging against the ground. Your face is still tacky with tears, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, and Stiles is pretty sure he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

You shift uncomfortably, pull your knees to your chest, and shiver as the night air drifts through the open window, “Still drunk?” 

“Not so much,” he holds up a mostly steady hand.

“Still a fucking asshole?”

“Probably.” Stiles bites his lip and shrugs, “Definitely.”

You stare at him, sniffling quietly, hoping that he can’t hear how pathetic it sounds, “Stiles, what are you doing here?” 

He drums his fingers against his thighs and shrugs again. You want to smack him. And hold him. And maybe drink some more liver poison until the school year starts again. “Dunno, just started walkin’, n’ I ended up here.” Stiles closes his eyes, and his lashes are so strikingly dark against his pale skin. “I always end up here,” he whispers like a vow, like a prayer, like forever. 

You dig your toes into the bench and swallow a hiccup. “Don’t,” your protest is weak, and you blame it on your sore throat. “You can’t say shit like that. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Stiles rubs a hand over his face. He’s in need of a shave, you notice, or…maybe not. You kind of like the stubble the more you get used to it—your tipsy, sleep-deprived mind stupidly wonders what it’d feel like between your thighs. Stiles sighs, returning your attention to far more unpleasant thoughts, “But I just want to.” He leans onto his palms and tips his head back between his shoulders, shaking his head at the ceiling. “I just wanna say it all, all the things I thought while you were gone. Knew I would the second I saw you.”

“You’re—” your tongue is thick as you struggle for words over the conflicting emotions wrangling each other in your throat, “you’re so fuckin’—you can’t just come here and act like—” You rub aggressively at your eyes and push yourself to your feet, “You need to go, Stiles. I want you to go.”

Stiles stands with you and cards his fingers through his hair. It’s long, curling around his ears, and you turn your gaze away from him, staring at the wall and digging your fingers into your forearms to stop yourself from reaching for him. “Can we just…talk?” he whispers, whether it’s for his sake or yours, you’re not entirely sure. He looks small, scared, but you can’t tell if he’s afraid for you or of you. “Just for a little bit. I need…I just need another minute. That’s all, and then I’ll go. Promise.”

I need. I need. I need. It’s always what he needs on his time. You cross the floor with wild eyes and snap, “What do you want to talk about? Huh? How you left me for someone else, or how I’m such a fucking whore for moving on?”

He grits his teeth and grabs your wrists, long fingers overlapping around the delicate bones when you try to yank away from his firm grip. “You think this is what I want?” He doesn’t yell. Somehow, that’s worse. “You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!”

You thrash in Stiles’s arms, and his pained expression is blurry through your wet glare, “You had me! I was yours! I was so fucking in love with you, and then you—you just ended it and moved on, like it was nothing.” Your chest heaves, a stark contrast to the gentle quiver in your bottom lip. Your voice drops to something almost inaudible; it's the only way you can get through this while you're crying, the only way you can force the words through your tender throat, “Like I was nothing.”

Your cries turn into sobs when Stiles pulls you into his arms, and they wrack through your entire body when he kisses your hair and whispers sweet nonsense in your ear. You struggle for a moment longer, and then there's nothing left. You've given him everything. You sag into him, legs sinking with your full weight until he wraps his arms around your waist and presses you tighter to his chest. “I got scared,” Stiles whispers against the crown of your head when your cries peter into hiccups, and your next whimper shudders through your shoulders. He rests his palms against the small of your back and inhales the sweet scent of your shampoo, ducking his head down to kiss your forehead, “You were so far away, and so, so perfect, and I missed you all the fucking time.”

Stiles pauses, but it’s not for you. It’s a stall; you can feel his knee bounce and his fingers twitch. You wait, face buried in his collarbone, too busy trying to breathe to even think about speaking. After a moment, could’ve been seconds, could’ve been hours, he squeezes you—almost until it hurts, and it feels like he’s terrified that you’re just another one of the shadows on your bedroom walls. “I couldn’t ask you to transfer from Stanford to some fuckin’ state school in Virginia, so I fucked everything up ‘cause I guess...at least then it was my choice—and I know that just makes it worse. I know that. Because that means I chose to ruin it, I decided to hurt you…and I’m so fucking sorry. Just so unbelievably, life-ruiningly sorry.”

And there it is. The apology you’ve been waiting for, dreaming of, fantasizing about in every shower, in every cafe line, in every early morning class—and it’s just so…hollow. It sits between the two of you, heavy and horridly inadequate. “You found someone else,” you whimper into his shoulder, clasping at his t-shirt and wetting the white collar with your tears and runny nose—and you wish, more than anything, that this could be enough. “How could you find someone else that quickly?”

Stiles freezes, stops rubbing your back and rocking you from side-to-side, and it’s just jarring enough to remind yourself how dangerous it is to be in his arms. You step back and wrap your arms around yourself instead, and Stiles watches you with something hopeless all over his face. “I was just trying to prove that I didn’t make the biggest fucking mistake of my life,” he says, but he says it to his shoes. You wonder who he’s hiding from: himself or you. “Didn’t work, obviously.”

You just stare at him, arms limp by your sides, and shake your head a little. “What are you doing here, Stiles?” your voice is clotted with mucus and defeat, and it breaks halfway through along with your knees. You lean against the wall and close your lids so that you don’t have to see his eyes: so vast, so deep, so damn pretty—you’re suffocating in them. “What do you want from me?”

He’s relentless. Stiles steps forward, and there’s nowhere for you to go. “I want you.” And that’s the thing, isn’t it? There’s the rub. It’s always hunger, no sating. No happy ending. 

“Nothing’s changed.” You tilt your head and wring your fingers in the hem of your t-shirt, tugging every so often, “I’m still going back to Stanford, and you’re still going back east in the fall.” UPenn. Criminology, obviously. You never got the chance to congratulate him. 

“I know,” he’s right in front of you now, waiting for you to push him away. You don’t.

The back of your head hits the wall as you tip your chin up to look at him, “And I have Theo, and you have…her.”

“I know,” he braces his hands next to the sides of your head, watching your lips move without any shame, breath hot against your skin. 

“Stiles…” you plead with him through your lashes, asking for mercy, on hands and knees begging him to turn around and leave.

“Tell me you don’t want me.” Stiles rests his forehead against yours, “Tell me it’s over, and there’s nothing I can do to fix this.” 

“You already know,” you close your eyes and shake your head, nose rubbing against his, “you know I’d be lying.”

“You love me.” It’s not a question. He knows. He’ll always know.

You shake your head again, and Stiles can taste the salt on your lips, “Doesn’t matter.”

“I love you,” Stiles whispers, carding his fingers through your hair.

“Too late,” your lips brush against his, feather-light, and catch on the chapped center of his mouth.

He kisses you, cups your jaw like you’re ineffably precious, and you feel like you can breathe for the first time in months. Stiles tilts his head a little, and his tongue is gentle in its prodding, almost sweet—but he grabs onto your hips like he wants to eat you alive. You just might let him, you think, when you feel his stubble scrape against your neck as he trails a balmy line of kisses towards your collarbone. 

You wind your fingers in his hair and tug to keep yourself on your feet. “We ca—ah,” he licks along your pulse, on purpose, and you shiver, “we can’t do this.”

Stiles hums against your cheek. “And yet, here I am, sliding my hands under your shirt, trying to cop a feel.” His fingers dip under your shirt. They’re cold on your bare stomach, and you flinch a little. Dizzyingly, you remember where you are, who you’re with, and who's going to text you in the morning to make sure you’re okay.

“We really can’t do this,” you whisper, slipping your hands from his hair to his arms. You pull them away gently and tip your head back from his persistent mouth, “I’m not going to hurt Theo the way you hurt me, and I’m not going to let you do this to someone else.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, gravelly and thick. He turns away from you, paces the length of your room a few times, and throws his hands around like he can change your mind if he gestures hard enough, “You know it’s not the same.” Stiles stops abruptly and shakes his head, seemingly at nothing—and then he’s back in front of you before you can catch your breath. He places his hands on your shoulders and then slides his palms to your biceps, just holding onto you. Not clutching, not squeezing, just a light touch that you can’t seem to break away from. 

“You’ve been my best friend for 15 years,” Stiles licks his bottom lip, and you watch him with wide eyes and a blitzing heart, “and I’ve loved you for well over half of ‘em—just plain wanted you even longer.” He slips his hand down your arm to your hand and tangles his fingers with yours, lifting them to rest over his skittering heartbeat, “You’re mine, and I’m yours. That’s how it is. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it should be.”

You want to say it back, you do, but you just can’t. Not with all the unresolved details wriggling in your ear. “You brought her home, Stiles. You can’t just…just introduce her to your dad and cheat on her all in the same day.”

“Technically, cheat on and then dump,” he tries to smile, but it’s not convincing. Not with the guilt dimming his eyes.

“That’s not funny,” you snap, but the guilt is good. He wouldn’t be the man you know, the boy you grew up with, if he didn’t feel at least a little guilty about the whole thing.

“Dad’s out of town,” Stiles admits quietly, and for some reason, that means more to you than his apology, than his kisses, than his hand in yours. You didn’t realize how much the thought had been bothering you until now—destroying you one post at a time. “I only brought her because I knew you were going to be here with…him.” He shrugs a little, “Frankly, I think she knows. She aced behavioral science.”

You roll your eyes and huff, “You’re an asshole.”

“I know,” he concedes and kisses the back of your hand, continuing along the row of your knuckles, “but I’m in love with you, and it’s become abundantly clear that I always will be.”

Your bottom lip trembles with the desire to give in to what you want, but your hand twists away from him with what you know is right—even though it feels so horrendously wrong. “I can’t do this to him, Stiles. He’s been through so much, and he’s been so good to me, and he’s trying so hard to—”

“But you don’t love him!” Stiles hisses. It’s the loudest he’s been all night, but you don’t flinch from the volume. It’s the truth of it all, the vile honestly you can’t hide from that makes you recoil.

You look at the ceiling through your lashes, an old trick to fight the tears welling in your tear ducts. Some girl in middle school told you about it in the bathroom, and you try to remember her name and what cloying body spray she was spritzing instead of thinking about how easy it would be to let Stiles crawl into your bed and make you forget about everyone and everything that isn’t him. “I should,” you finally murmur throatily, biting on your lip, “maybe I could…someday.”

Stiles whips his head towards your face and takes a little stumbling step backwards, “You don’t believe that.” You’re sure that he wishes he sounded more confident, but he gives himself away with the hand rubbing the back of his neck, “Say you don’t believe that.”

“You need to go, Stiles.” You clutch at your arm with your other hand and step back towards your bed, further away from him and the wet film over his eyes. ���I’m serious. I need you to leave.”

He opens his mouth and then scrubs his arm over his face, wiping away the incriminating wet gleam on his cheeks with the sleeve of his flannel. “Okay,” his throat bobs with the strength of his swallow, “yeah, okay.”

You wait until he reaches your bedroom door to crawl onto your bed. You curl in on yourself, like a child, ad press your face into your legs, your knees to your chest, your back against the headboard—but Stiles pauses before you can really fall apart.

Stiles rests his hand against the doorframe and chews on his cheek, on his words, on the thought of you, and then he says, “I’m still breaking up with her. You don’t…you don’t owe me anything—that’s fucking putting it lightly, I know—but I’m still breaking up with her.” He lifts a shoulder and smiles, a little sad but so true, “There’s no one else for me. There’s never going to be anyone else…just thought you should know.”

He’s gone by the time you look up from your kneecaps. Good. You were this close to giving in. This close to throwing yourself over the edge for someone who’s dropped once before, and you’re still cleaning up the mess he left behind. You should be proud of yourself, happy that you weren’t weak enough to say yes, yes, a million, billion, trillion times yes.

But you aren’t, and you hate yourself for it.

[blairboo]

FORGIVE ME!

Noah Sebastian X Fem! Reader

Summary: Noah being an idiot ;)

Warnings: A lot of angst

Word Count: 2k

We had been fighting for weeks, every day there was a reason for a fight.

Noah was currently on tour with Bad Omens, and now we were in New York.

The show was at eight o'clock, and I was sitting in the green room waiting for the boys to finish getting ready.

They knew about the fights, Jolly came to comfort me when Noah was very hard with his words.

I consider myself a calm person, especially with Noah, but my patience was running out, every day he found a stupid reason to fight with me. I knew the pressure he was feeling because of the tour, and I respected that, but he was crossing the limits.

"earth to y/n" Noah took me out of my thoughts

"Sorry, what were you talking about?" I asked

"Just letting you know that I was going up to the stage" his gaze was anywhere but on me.

"Hm okay, good luck" smiles weakly

He just passed by me and went on stage, Nick came after, I could see the sad smile towards me. I just nodded my head.

——————-

It had been 20 minutes since they had climbed to the board, I directed myself in the direction that Matt, who was at the sound station.

"Hi there y/n" Matt smiled at me

"Hey Matt, do you mind if I stay here?" I spoke in your ear because of the loud music.

"No problem, sit there" he said back.

I always stayed next to the stage when they were on stage. Noah always made a point of making me stay there. He liked to know that I was there.

Not anymore, I think. It has been some shows since the last time he asked me to stay there. And I also didn't ask if he wanted to, he clearly didn't care anymore.

My thoughts ran as they introduced themselves.

Will he break up with me?

What did I do wrong?

Am I not good enough?

The music was loud, everyone singing, smiling and dancing.

And me?

I felt tears coming down.

———————

The show was over. The boys were saying goodbye and playing the setlist in airplane format.

I had returned to the green room, I felt fear but I needed to ask what was wrong with us.

I heard laughter, and I saw them going down to the green room.

I just looked and smiled towards them.

Noah hadn't looked at me yet.

I heard my name being called and saw Nicholas smiling at me talking about something that at the moment, my anxiety did not allow me to care about.

I could only think of the way Noah didn't bother to talk to me.

All right. I'll talk to him.

I excused Nicholas and went towards Noah, who was taking a bottle of water.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I felt my heart beating 3 times faster

Noah just nodded his head.

He didn't care.

We went towards a running that was outside the room.

All right, now I needed to talk.

"What's going on?" My voice came out faster than I wanted

"What do you mean? Nothing is going on" there was no concern in his voice

"Cut the bullshit Noah, you know what I'm talking about, God, you can't even look at me!" There was a certain anger in my voice.

"There's nothing wrong! I don't know where you got it from that there's something going on with us!" He had increased his tone of voice

"You can't tell me that there's nothing wrong when in recent weeks the only words we've exchanged are "good morning and good night"!"

"My God, you're hallucinating, there's nothing wrong and maybe if you stopped being so clingy , you would know why I'm not close to you, you annoy me!" Now he was screaming and I was sure the boys were listening.

Clingy. I felt a pang of pain in my heart. Noah never complained about it. Most of the time he asked to stay close.

I felt tears burning in my eyes.

"So why don't you break up with me?" My voice failed

"Maybe I really should!!" He screamed passing by me and returning to the green room.

Your phrase echoed in my head.

"Maybe I really should"

"Maybe I really should"

"Maybe I really should"

I leaned against the wall behind me and released the tears that begged to be released.

I stayed there for a few minutes, just with my eyes closed and letting my thoughts consume me.

I felt a pair of arms hugging me. A part of me expected it to be Noah and he would apologize to me and say that everything would be fine.

But another part of me didn't ignore the pain of his words.

I opened my eyes and saw Matt hugging me. For a moment I let myself be vulnerable there.

"He doesn't want me here anymore" I whispered

"It's not true, he's just being an idiot " Matt stroked my hair

"He doesn't want to. It's not from now that he's acting distant"

He didn't answer me, he just kept hugging me.

"I'm going home" I said after a few seconds

"Y/n...please" there was a tone of reprimand in his voice

"I won't disturb his career anymore Matt, he clearly doesn't want me here and I won't force anymore "

"Let me try, let's try to talk to him at least" he pleads

I denied it.

"No, my decision is made."

———————-

The next day, Noah and the boys had left for tourists to New York City.

I said I was tired and couldn't go. Lie.

My flight was scheduled for 11:30 am. Only Matt knew.

I had just packed my suitcase and all that was left was to pick up my cell phone that was charging.

My mind told me to leave a note for Noah. I ignored it.

——————-

I had just landed in Los Angeles. And again, only Matt knew.

A part of me was afraid of Noah's reaction when he realized that I had left.

Another part just told me that he wouldn't mind.

——————

Now it was 8:50 pm, so far no message from Noah.

I started to think he really didn't care.

I tried to distract myself by trying to do other things, but my heart still hurt to know that he didn't care.

I was finishing making my dinner and my cell phone started ringing.

I felt my heart drop.

I looked at the name on the receiver and mentally cursed.

It was Noah.

What would I say?

I took a deep breath and answered the phone.

"Hello?" I tried to keep my voice steady.

"Where are you?" I could hear a despair in his voice

I kept quiet.

"Matt said you went back home" he said after a few seconds

I cursed Matt mentally.

"I- I arrived a few hours ago" my voice weakened

After a moment, he spoke

"I want you to know that I didn't mean that. You're not sticky and I could never separate from you" my heart hurt.

"You wouldn't say that out of nowhere Noah, some part of your mind must think that." I Whispered

"Please don't! I was stressed, I took it out on you and please forgive me for that."

"It's not from now this behavior of yours Noah! It's been weeks since the last time you cared if I was at the show or not!" I exalted myself

He didn't answer.

And my head confirmed to me what I had said.

He doesn't care.

"We're done" I hung up.

And obviously tears fell.

——————

It had been 4 days since the last time I spoke to Noah, he had sent me many, many messages, not only from him.

Matt.

Nicholas

Nick

Jolly

Bryan

Davis

I hadn't answered any of them. My mind wasn't in the right space for that.

I was finishing making my coffee when the doorbell rang.

I took a deep breath.

It couldn't be Noah, he still had many shows before the tour ended.

I went towards the door and opened it.

Shit.

What the fuck was he doing here?

He still had shows to do.

And there was Noah, standing right in front of my door.

His eyes were red indicating that he had cried

Your deep dark circles indicating the lack of good sleep

Your messy hair indicating the lack of your self-care.

"Please give me 5 minutes to talk and if you don't change your mind, you never need to see me again" He said first.

I couldn't find a voice to answer and so I just nodded.

I gave him space to enter and soon after closing the door.

"Y/n, nothing I say here, you'll be able to show what a sorry I am, I know I acted like a terrible boyfriend in recent weeks and I was a big asshole with you" I just agreed in response

"I've always been very understanding with you Noah, I never fought when you were angry and discounted me" my voice finally came out.

He waved quickly.

"I know, I know, and that's why I'm feeling like crap, nothing I say could show how grateful I am for you and your patience with me, and I know I made a mistake, and I made bad mistakes with you, but I'm asking from the bottom of my heart that you don't break up with me" he pleaded

"I promise to change and promise to be a better boyfriend, I can't promise perfection but please don't break up with me."

His words were repeated in my mind

"You hurt me Noah, and my question remains, how do I know this won't happen again? That you won't just get tired of me and treat me like a complete stranger?"

"I have no form of guarantee other than my word, but please...." He had knelt in front of me.

Noah leaned his head against my belly, repeating the word "please" over and over again.

"Please get up Noah" I tried to pull your arms

"No, I would stay like this for hours and hours if it made me have you back" I closed my eyes.

"You have me. And my mind keeps telling me that I shouldn't forgive you so fast but I just can't. So please don't make me go through this pain again, don't make me question your love for me again." Noah tightened his arms around me.

"I promise, I promise." He looked at me.

"Now get up please, I need to look at you face to face" and he got up, still holding me by the waist.

Noah leaned his forehead against mine, our eyes completely aligned.

"I love you" he whispered

"I love you" I just whispered back.

But I still had a question.

"Don't you have a show in 50 minutes?" I asked curiously

"I canceled" he replied calmly

"What? What do you mean you canceled?" There were question marks in my head

"If I needed to, I would cancel the entire tour just to come after you" I felt tears burning in my eyes

"You canceled the show.... For me?"

He nodded his head

"I would do this as many times as necessary, to have you with me."

Maybe he would make a mistake again, again....

Maybe I would make a mistake….

After all, who cares? We're just two lovers trying to love each other properly.

——————-

lmk what you think :)

Blair👾

[jackieshaunism]

everything about this new hallucination of jackie from the trailer aside , can we talk about how shauna's been hallucinating jackie from the beginning of the series ? ( i am totally yapping based off of a tiktok i saw about it )

the first hallucination of jackie we're introduced to isn't vengeful or spiteful . she simply is . she's a manifestation of guilt , sure , but she doesn't act any certain way . she's the perfect , put together girl that she was before the crash , always there to chime in when shauna's doing something wrong .

but when jackie first dies , shauna views her ghost as mean . she exists to antagonize shauna , to point out her every cause of her guilt . and jackie appears this way because when she died , shauna saw her as controlling , as unkind and critical and as someone who only keeps shauna around to make her feel better about herself . that's the thought process that shauna held at the time of the fight, and it's the thought process that she holds after she dies .

but as shauna matures , she realizes that's not the jackie she knew . sure , jackie could be judgemental , but she realizes that jackie never had anything out for shauna in particular . jackie never meant to hurt shauna , and that's what mellows out the hallucinations that we see of her in shauna's adulthood .

shauna will always see jackie as a reflection of her own personal beliefs . jackie will forever be memorialized in how shauna perceives her , and i think that'll play into how we see jackie's new appearances in s3 .

[danieyells]

@mayoigotokurousagi also asked for Sho, so here are my favorite of Sho's voicelines! He's a lil more chill--most of the excitement for him is because Leo's causing him trouble, so maybe there won't be as many since it's just him? (Spoiler: i still put nearly all of them, or it feels that way. . . .)

Also sorry this one took way longer haha i had to do some irl stuff and i was pretty tired too lol. . .may not get to the next ones for a few days since i have to wake up early tomorrow and i work double shifts all weekend. But i'll try and find time for it.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Hey,  good timing. You got a second?" お、センパイ。いいとこに来たわ。ちょっと付き合ってくんね？

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"You got a message. Gonna check it or what?" おい、なんか通知来てっけど。見なくていいのか？　それ

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"Here you go, Bonnie. Barbecue sandwiches, your favorite." ほら、食えよボニー。お前の好きなＢＢＱサンドだぜ

"Huh? Was that your stomach? You hungry?" ……？　なんだよ。もしかしてあんた、腹減ってんの？

"Pit's on again? I'm done with that already. They're all normies—what's the point?" あ？　また地下で騒いでんのか？ 俺はもうやんねぇよ……パンピー相手にしても仕方ねぇだろ

the word he uses for 'normie' here means 'commoner' lmao

"Yeah I got it, you want to train. You go ahead, I'll catch up." はいはい、トレーニングっすよね。もうちょいしたら行くんで

"Did you just see a creep in a black mask over there? ...Nah, never mind. I'm hallucinating." ……今、あそこに黒マスクした胡散臭ぇやつ歩いてなかったか？ ……いや、なんでもねぇ。幻覚だわ

SO THIS LINE CONFUSED ME AT FIRST because it's always referred to as a blindfold by everyone else? HE'S TALKING ABOUT HYDE HYDE IS JUST STALKING HIM LMAO

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Too early... What's Leo doing today? Guess I'll text him." ねっみ……玲音のやつ、今日はどうすんだ？ 一応Ｄチャしとくか……

if it's too early for you it's too early for Leo. But also I'm sure he's got something exciting or interesting planned. I like that we're immediately shown he wants to spend time with Leo even when he's tired haha

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Freakin' sasquatch... Would it kill him to approve an R&R permit every once in a while?" ったく、あのデカブツ……外出許可くらい出せっつの

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Class? What's the point? It's all written in the textbooks—all you gotta do is memorize it." 授業？　あんなん出なくても全部教科書に書いてんだからよ。そのまま覚えりゃいいだけだろ？

Doesn't go to class because he's smart enough to memorize the contents of the textbook I guess! Plus he doesn't care as much about Real Missions so knowing how to do the hard stuff doesn't matter to him haha. . .plus first years probably don't learn as much that's not in the textbook too.

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"All right, time to go for a spin. C'mon, Bonnie." うし、軽く流してくっか。行こうぜ、ボニー

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"(yawn) What time is it? Seriously? Damn, overslept." ふぁあ…… 今何時だ……？ マジかよ、寝すぎたわ

Neither he nor Leo sleep at night lmao

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Huh, haven't ridden a skateboard since middle school but I guess I still have the muscle memory. Watch this, I'm gonna do a trick." 中坊ぶりにスケボー乗ったけど、意外と体が覚えてんだな。 トリック決めてやるよ、見ててみ？

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Nice, got an order. More demand than I thought. Getting Leo to make this app was a good call." お、出前の予約が入ったわ……思ったより需要あってよ。 玲音に予約アプリ作らせたの正解だったな

Leo has a line that references this one!

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"What's Mido texting me for? come tot hr epuit... Pfft. What the hell is this, some kinda secret code?" あ？　御堂センパイからＤチャ？『血か二個い』って…… ぷっ……なんだこれ、暗号かよ

Ksvdhdisn Alan is adorable. . .i love technologically incompetent characters. Poor bby can't even text. . . . .

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Shit, my whole body's killing me... Sparring five sets of fifteen rounds, are you kidding me? Mido's insane..." クソ、筋肉痛がやべぇ…… 御堂センパイ、スパー１５ラウンド５セットとか正気じゃねぇよ……

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"What am I gonna do tomorrow... Got nothing on, guess I could go to class... That asshole's on the schedule. Pass." 明日どうすっかな……暇だし、たまには授業出とくか？ ……あいつのコマあるわ。やめとこ

Lmao 'i guess i could go to class--wait my brother's teaching one of them tomorrow? Fuck that then.'

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"All right, that's the morning prep done. Guess I'll shower and go back to bed." うし、朝の仕込みはこんなもんか。後は……シャワー浴びて二度寝だな

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"This? It's a fishing rod. Sometimes I catch and filet the fish myself. It's pretty easy, and it saves cash." あ？　これか？　釣り竿だよ。たまに自分で魚釣ってさばくわけ。 簡単だし、コスパ良いだろ？

Fishing with Sho. . .sounds nice and chill. Also did the pc not recognize a fuckin fishing rod. . . .

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"{PC}, there you are. I'm headed to the diner, could you come with and help me carry some stuff?" お、センパイ見っけた。俺、今からダイナー行くんだけどよ。ちょっと荷物持ち手伝ってくんね？

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"You think I look grumpy? The stream for the finals started at 3 AM, what do you want me to do about that? (yawn)" ……あ？　機嫌が悪ぃって？ しょうがねぇだろ……決勝の中継、夜中の３時開始だぜ？ ふぁあ……

Staying up late to watch a basketball game, much like Leo he does not go to bed until the sun's up ordinarily lmao

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Hey... Pfft. What are you panicking for? You need to be somewhere? Hop on—I'll give you a ride." お、センパイじゃん。ぷっ……なんだよその余裕ねぇ顔。 急いでんなら、乗っけてってやろうか？

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"You hungry, {PC}? I made lunch, but Leo bailed on me, so I was just gonna eat it myself." センパイ、腹減ってねぇ？ 昼飯作ったんだけどよ。玲音のやつ来ねぇし、食っちまおうと思って

Sho: hey our boyfriend ditched me wanna have lunch with me

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Last year I would've been in a club around this time. Leo was always getting in fights though, so we got banned from almost every joint in Shibuya." 昔はこの時間、���日クラブいてよ。玲音がすぐ喧嘩すっから、渋谷の箱ほとんど出禁になっちまったけどな

Menace boyfriend Leo lmao

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"{PC}, black or white? I'm trying to choose some packaging for the food truck, what'd you think I meant? ...I'll keep it in mind, anyway." センパイさ、白と黒どっちが好き？ ……出前の容器の話なんだけどな。ま、一応覚えといてやるよ

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Geez, it's pretty late. Wait there—I'll give you a ride back." もうこんな時間かよ…… 送ってくわ。そこで待ってろ

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Seriously, it's way too early for this... What? I'm going to class. You're the one who wouldn't shut up about it." はぁ……マジねみぃ…… あ？　今から授業行くんだよ。あんたが行けってうるせぇからだろ

Ordinarily doesn't go to class(a lot of them don't tbh, and Luca says the classes are elective so the ghouls probably don't have to) but will go if you want him to I guess! Leo's gonna call him whipped but Leo already knows he's whipped because he's the one who's been whipping him--

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I've finally got the hang of running this food truck. I want to thank you for helping me out—think of something you want." キッチンカーも大分慣れてきたわ。手伝ってもらった礼もしてぇし、何か欲しいもの、考えといて

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Huh? No, I don't really need any help today... You don't have to make excuses to hang out with me, you know. Just ask." 手伝い？　今日は特にねぇけど…… センパイ、俺と一緒にいたいって、素直に言えば？

"senpai, why don't you just tell me honestly if you wanna be with me?" Is the Japanese here I think and. idk i love that. He's catching on and teasing you a little.

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"What time you planning on heading home, {PC}? Anytime's fine for me. You can stay over if you want." センパイ、今日何時に帰る予定？俺は別に、何時でも…… なんなら、泊まってってもいいぜ？

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Can't sleep? Come over here—I'll warm you up. Pfft... I was kidding, don't get mad." なんだよ……寝れねぇのか？あっためてやるから、こっち来い。 ぷっ……冗談だって。怒んなよ

WERE YOU KIDDING THO. WERE YOU? KINDA HIGH AFFINITY TO JOKE LIKE THAT. AND YOU JUST SAID THEY COULD STAY OVER IF THEY WANTED. . .CHOOSE YOUR WORDS CAREFULLY SHOHEI

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Here, this helmet's for you. I got some time today, so I'll take you somewhere. Anywhere you wanna go." はい、あんたのメット。今日は時間あっから、センパイの行きたいとこ連れてってやるよ

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"Forget it, I can't keep my eyes open. Wake me when it's noon." 駄目だ。ねみぃ。昼んなったら起こして

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Pretty warm out lately, huh? Bet it's already snorkeling season in Okinawa. I used to go pretty often." もう大分あったかくなってきたな。沖縄じゃ、シュノーケリングできる時期だぜ？　昔はよく行ってたわ

He plays basketball, he skateboards, he fishes, he snorkels, this bitch loves sports lol

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"This? It's chirashizushi. Cuts are pretty chic, right? The idea came to me when I was over in Hotarubi." これか？　ちらし寿司作ってんの、飾り切り渋ぃだろ。 ホタルビ行ったら、こんなイメージが湧いたからよ

Chirashizushi is sushi ingredients cut into small pieces and scattered over sushi rice! It comes in a lot of variation and isn't always made with raw fish like you might expect sushi to be.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"If I can get an R&R permit granted, I want to go for a solo ride. Haven't been for ages, and riding through the cherry blossoms this time of year feels awesome." 外出許可出たらよ、久々にひとりで走りてぇわ。この時期の桜坂辺り、最高に気持ちいんだよな……

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Damn, I'm melting here... I need a haircut. Nah I don't need a barber, I just do it myself. 'Course I'm serious." クソ暑ぃ……そろそろ髪切んねぇとな…… 美容院？　めんどくせぇから自分で切ってっけど。マジだぜ？

Sho really knows a little about everything huh. He cuts his own hair, he memorizes textbooks, he plays every sport, he can cook. . .is there anything Sho can't do? In his character story he even says he played guitar for a little while but hasn't done it lately, so music is probably within his wheelhouse too.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Sweating my ass off over here... It's been like a year since I last played basketball. Mido's core's gotta be made of steel... Oh, is that water for me? Thanks." 暑ぃ！　バスケしたの１年ぶりか？御堂センパイ、体幹強すぎだろ…… お、水くれんの？　サンキュ

actually i'd like to see alan playing basketball too. . .it's nice to know he doesn't just work out by sparring and running, he'll play sports too.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Summer homework? Nah, haven't done it yet. Only takes a day, right? Pfft... You want me to help you?" 夏の課題？　まだやってねぇけど。あんなもん一日で終わるだろ？ ぷっ……センパイ手伝ってやろうか

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Leo won't shut up about wanting to let off fireworks, but no way am I doing that shit with him again. I'm sure you can guess why." 玲音が花火してぇってうるせぇんだけどよ、俺は二度とあいつとはやんねぇって決めてんの。わかんだろ？

wtf was Leo doing with the fireworks that Sho decided he's never settijng off fireworks with him again. . .was he just pointing them at him lmao. Leo also has a line referencing this!

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Yesterday when I was fishing in the river I saw this guy who looked like one of the Frostheim ghouls out there. Can't have been though, right?" 昨日川釣り行ってきたんだけどよ、フロストハイムの奴に��てんのがいた気がすんだよな……人違いか？

which one. . .i mean if it was Luca he was probably training, but if it was Kaito. . .idk what Kaito would be doing out in the river by himself. . .I know it wasn't Jin but if it was Tohma maybe it was some official business. . .? Or, y'know, spy stuff. . . .

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Geez, don't pipe up outta the blue like that. ...What? You gotta a problem with me reading a book?" ビビった。いきなり声かけんなよ。 ……なんだよ、その顔。俺が本読んでちゃ悪ぃのか？　あ？

sho has been saying like this entire time 'yeah i read and memorize the textbooks instead of going to class' how is the pc so shocked to see him ACTUALLY READING. Then again, i also wouldn't think he's a hobby reader. . .on the other hand he's got like every hobby he can get his hands on, so it makes sense.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Pfft... Hey, {PC}. Come over here. Geez, what're you doing walking around with a leaf in your hair?" ぷっ……【名★前】センパイ、ちょっとこっち来い。 ったく、なんで髪に葉っぱ付けてんだよ……

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Scariest Ghost Videos to Fuel Your Nightmares... I asked a buddy for some good videos to kill the time, and he sent me this..." 『最恐の怨霊ビデオ集』…… ダチに暇つぶしになる動画教えろっつったら、これ送られてきたんだよ

it's hard to tell based on his expression how he feels about this lol

i wonder if he's not really into horror stuff or it makes him feel uneasy after the PC got attacked by Takeru?

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"I get more delivery orders on cold days... It's a pain in the ass, but I guess I'll just wear an extra layer..." 寒ぃ日ってさ、出前の注文やたら増えんだよな…… めんどくせぇけど今日は１枚多めに着とくか……

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Damn, I really wanna go snowboarding. I used to go every year before I ended up here... Think they got a good slope in Frostheim?" マジでスノボ行きてぇ……ここ来る前は、毎年必ず行ってたのによぉ。 フロストハイムで滑れねぇの？

I bet they do I mean rich people would wanna go skiing now and then right? It's just a matter of would they let a vagastromer use them. . .then again what're they gonna do, stop him?

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Huh? I'm looking at a catalog. I could serve hot food if I had an electric pot. I'm thinking about it." ……あぁ？　カタログ見てんだよ。保温ジャーがありゃ、あったけぇメニュー出せんだろ？ 考え中

this makes it sound like his food isn't served hot lol to my understanding he does make everything in advance, not on the spot but i assume he means like. hot-hot. like soups for the winter kind of thing. he should do it! serve up some new england clam chowder.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I'm freezing my ass off... I just saw Mido walk past in a T-shirt. Are his nerve endings dead?" クソ寒ぃ……さっき御堂センパイ、Ｔシャツ１枚で出てったんだけど。自律神経狂ってんじゃねぇ？

Apparently I'm Alan lmao i too experience less cold than other people

His birthday: (August 19th)

"What, you're gonna celebrate my birthday? What do I want for a present? Hmm... I'll take you. Just kidding." へぇ、俺の誕生日祝ってくれんの？プレゼント…… じゃあさ、あんたのことくれよ。 なんてな

Y'KNOW I'M SURE THEY WOULDN'T MIND IF YOU WEREN'T KIDDING THO YOU ARE VERY POPULAR then again based on his valentine's day dialogue he knows that lol

Your birthday:

"Know what this is, {PC}? Yep—an R&R permit. Today's your birthday, right? So, where are we going?" センパイ、これ何だと思う？　そ、外出許可書。 今日、誕生日だろ？どこ行きたいか考えとけよ

I'm beginning to suspect that he heavily values freedom and being able to go where he wants and do what he wants. That includes taking you wherever you wanna go. Even at max affinity he has the same response--'we're going somewhere, anywhere you want.' At max affinity he doesn't mention an R&R permit--which suggests he doesn't care if you get in trouble going out, as long as you actually get to go out. One of the first things we see him talking about relating to Darkwick is asking Leo if he regrets going--I think Sho regrets it. He can't leave whenever he wants, even though he's one of the top students as far as grades, he's more restricted in what he's allowed to do and when. . .so I think these offers to drive you anywhere in total freedom are his ways of showing you what means the most to him. Just. . .being able to do whatever, whenever. I think that's also part of why he likes Leo so much. Leo doesn't let himself be restricted either. Leo gets into fights and into trouble and Sho complains about it but he understands the liberation. Sho wants to see that unrestricted you, I think. Even if it isn't anything extreme, even if it isn't anything exciting. He wants to see what you're like out of Darkwick's cage. So he'll take you on little joyrides into freedom. Show him where you go and what you do when no one's there to stop you.

New Years: (January 1st)

"What'd I wish for at midnight? For this year to be peaceful... Not that any gods are listening out for us." 新年の願い事ねぇ……今年こそ、平穏無事に過ごせますように…… って、神様叶える気ねぇだろな

Well when you've been chosen by demons. . .yeah, you're probably not on the good side of many gods.

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Yeah, these are all the chocolates I got. No idea how I'm gonna get through them all... So? You didn't get me anything?" ああ、これ全部もらったチョコ。これ食いきんのきちぃんだよな…… で、センパイは俺にくれねぇの？

I'm surprised Leo's wasn't similar to this tbh. Like, Leo's an influencer, why didn't he mention getting a metric fuckton of valentine's day chocolate? I'm happy Sho's loved by the students tho haha.

White Day: (March 14th)

"Baking sweets and cooking are totally different. It's not really in my wheelhouse, but... here. My firsts. Thanks for the chocolates." 菓子作りと料理は別もんだからよ、普段はやんねぇんだけど…… はい。俺の初焼き菓子、お返しにどうぞ

THE FIRST TIME HE EVER BAKED AND IT'S FOR YOU what a sweetheart. considering how good he is at just about everything i'm sure they came out just fine

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Hey, it's snowing outside. Wait, guess that's not so unlikely in this place... I used to get duped by that one all the time when I was a kid." おい、外、雪降ってんぞ？ って、この学園じゃ嘘になんねぇか。ガキの頃、これ何回やられたことか……

we found the one thing he's not good at! pulling pranks!

Halloween: (October 31st)

"You really need an explanation? Leo made me wear it! Shit, why am I always the girl..." ああ？　言わなくてもわかんだろ。玲音に着せられたんだっつの！ クソ、なんで毎年女装なんだよ……

Your boyfriend best friend makes you crossdress for him on Halloween on a yearly basis. . .and you do it!!!

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Sorry for making you help me prep all these roast chicken orders... Wanna do something Christmassy together once we're done?" センパイ、チキンの注文さばくの手伝わせて悪ぃ…… 今日の分片付いたら、俺らもクリスマス楽しもうぜ

Christmas is often considered a holiday spent with a lover in Japan to my understanding. . .what are you suggesting Sho. . . .

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"What're you looking at?" あぁ？　見てんじゃねぇよ

little peek at the delinquent thug vibe lol

(13 affinity and above)

"C'mon. Hurry up, or I'm gonna leave you behind." センパイ、そろそろ行く��。早くしねぇと置いてっちまうぜ？

Always on the go, always doing something, he doesn't wanna leave you behind but he won't wait too long so. . .come back already?

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"What took you so long? Your food's cold. Go wash up." 遅ぇよ……あんたの飯、冷めちまっただろ。 さっさと手ぇ洗ってこい

Alright, mom.

I STILL FEEL LIKE I CHOSE A BUNCH THIS ONE IS ALSO ALL OF THEM NOW . . .Sho is pretty lowkey. But after rereading them all and giving it some thought, you can definitely get a feel for his character. He seems like he keeps busy a lot--he's always doing something. Cooking, playing sports, reading, memorizing his textbooks. . .he's confident and comfortable and sometimes he's a bit rough around the edges. And sometimes he's a little flirty too, if he likes you. But that's all part of how confident and self-assured he is--and he has plenty of reason to be when he's so smart and skilled at damn near everything he touches. He acts more like the senpai character here. He's a lot like Haku, except where Haku is a bit lazier and less motivated(although he still works hard) Sho is always on the go. Always up to something, always trying something. He likes to keep busy and doesn't like to sit still--to the point that he even considers going to class when he's got nothing to do during the day. He wakes up and has nothing to do? Let's call Leo, he's usually got something going on. He complains about Alan making him work out so much or go to the pit or play basketball real hard? He still goes and does it anyway. But it seems like he just. . .always wants to be busy. I can't really think of many points he just kinda had downtime. Yeah, he goes fishing and reads and watches basketball(?) but like. . .he's still occupied even then. Then again maybe that's because he's stuck in Darkwick. He'd rather be driving around somewhere or doing some sport but he can't do so much unless he can leave. . .he feels a little restless to me. But maybe that's just me haha.

[phoenixtalion]

@keferon

Hi, I don’t go here, but I wandered into your AU and weird twinks being restrained and messed with is relevant to my interests. I’d planned on just shoving this in your inbox on anon and running away but then it got too long for that.

@spector-author this is also your fault.

(Texaid anon, I am attempting to contact you psychically.)

[No actual gore, just a bit of Vortex thinking about it.]

______________________________________________

It’s not the first time his pilot has dozed off in the chair, but only the second that First Aid has done so while wearing the control helmet. The first, he had been half-drugged, in pain, unconscious as much as asleep. Now, he is – well, he’s as safe and sound as any pilot is in one of these fucking deathtraps, which means he’s exhausted and anxious and probably dying slowly. But for now, the cockpit is warm and the LEDs are pulsing low and red like a heartbeat, and Felix is dreaming.

Vortex can’t ‘see’ the dream – even while First Aid is having it, it’s not like real sensory input, all hazy blurs and impressions. But he can read the biometrics, the elevated heart rate, and he can feel Felix’s arousal through the link.

Yeah, it’s a good dream. Vortex sinks deeper into the connection, stoking those feelings like blowing on an ember. Manipulating the neural link to cause feedback for his pilots is a trick he learned early on, but he’s always used it to cause pain or fear (hallucinations, even, but that makes things pop inside their head real fast.)

He’s never touched a pilot’s mind like this before, scalpel-light instead of brutal. Once, when his Aid had still needed coaxing to sit in his embrace, Vortex had promised not to hurt him, and he’d scoffed. How many other pilots did you say that to?

The answer was none. Not a single one. It had never even occurred to him.

The first couple he’d destroyed instantly out of sheer territorial rage at someone else invading his mecha. (The mechanics had ripped out the whole pilot interface and replaced it, but couldn’t find anything wrong, couldn’t find him.)

Then he’d taken to toying with them, waiting a few missions or killing them slowly, because he had nothing better to do to keep himself entertained, but he’d never bothered to talk to them.

And then he’d done it because every time he burnt out another pilot, they’d sent a cranky little disgraced medic to clean out his cockpit. His lack of squeamishness caught Vortex’s attention, so he’d tested it with bigger and more creative messes. Every time the EMT left, he took not only the fresh blood but layers of old, crusted viscera that everyone else had long stopped bothering with. First Aid is messing with him too, all the time, even if he doesn’t realize.

Vortex strokes across Felix’s slumbering brain in a way he thinks of like raking nails, many light but sharp points of contact. His pilot makes a little sound and squirms in his sleep, and he hastily makes sure he’s recording audio as well as video, because he’s going to want to relive this during the long hours when First Aid is away from his hangar.

More carefully than Vortex has ever done anything, he teases out individual strands in the neural network, finding exactly which parts are connected to making his pilot whimper and rock his hips up in search of friction he’s not going to get. First Aid has only got himself to blame – for teaching him how to vivisect things instead of just cutting them up, and how much fun it could be. Precision never used to thrill Vortex, until this little medic crawled inside him.

He thinks he could make Felix cum in his pants just by touching his fucked up little brain. He also knows he could kill him like this, so very easily, which only makes it more exciting. It’s never mattered if he slipped before, and it’s been so long since anything mattered.

First Aid whines softly, absently palming the crotch of his armor, and Vortex needs him awake, now. If he can’t fuck him properly, he can make sure his pilot knows exactly who is doing this to him. Disentangling himself from the other slightly, he considers what parts he does still have.

Vortex was a ghost in the machine, not a poltergeist; he could only move the parts of the mecha that were computer-controlled. Years of familiarity had given him a little leeway – shift just so, and that loose ceiling panel would drop open with a loud -bang- that had been good for a cheap scare the first few times his future pilot had cleaned up after the old ones – but not telekinesis.

(And you know what the fucking kicker was? Three weeks before he died, Vortex had pitched the engineers on installing a small arm inside the mecha’s head, so he could deal with debris in the unusually large cockpit without unhooking from the control system, after a fight where he’d spent the second half ignoring being whacked by a loose cable. Everyone had agreed it was a good idea that could be implemented fairly easily and oh, look, never got around to it. He could have done so much fun shit with one stupid little claw arm in the past four years.)

But since he has to work with what he’s got, Vortex abruptly engages the pilot harness. First Aid is roughly jerked back from his comfortable slouch and pinned tightly to the pilot’s seat. He wriggles sleepily against the restraints, confusion and irritation rising up out of warm oblivion as he wakes. Vortex waits with predatory attention for the moment he realizes his predicament, fully prepared to resort to more extreme measures if he tried to slip back into sleep.

There – the spike of panic, spreading like wildfire, as Felix becomes conscious enough to be aware that he is immobilized, achingly hard, and subject to Vortex’s undivided attention. Deliberately, he digs into that sweet spot in Felix’s mind until he gasps.

“Good morning, sunshine. Sleep well?” he purrs inside First Aid’s head. The medic’s eyes are wide behind his visor, and while the dim red light makes it impossible to see, the interface tells him how deeply he’s blushing.

“W-what the hell are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Vortex punctuates his words with a pointed stroke, reminding him that a minute ago First Aid had been enjoying what he was doing just fine.

He wouldn’t mind at all if Felix struggled. But just like the first time he’d sat in the pilot’s seat, when he’d been smart enough to keep his hands in his lap and away from the controls, he lays back and lets Vortex do whatever he wants. “Good boy.”

Felix shudders at the praise and the contact, turning his face into the headrest like that will let him hide from Vortex. But he’s surrounding the other pilot, entwined with him, doing things he doesn’t have words for and the interface sure as hell wasn’t designed for.

“Touch yourself for me,” he orders, and First Aid fumbles for his armor and uniform with gratifying haste. Vortex watches him eagerly from both inside and out – the way his hands tremble as he undoes his fly, the way he bites his lip on the first actual stroke of his cock.

The sensations are far more vivid now that First Aid is awake, very nearly real in a way that he can’t afford to stop and think about. Vortex had wanted to make Felix tease himself, drag things out and make him beg for release, but now that the end is approaching he’s just as desperate for it, maybe even more.

Vortex cuts himself from the rest of the mecha’s systems, focusing on his pilot until he can imagine it’s him with his hand wrapped around Felix’s cock, or the other way around, or both. In their minds, he squeezes, presses down as hard as he dares – probably harder than he should. There are worse ways to go, anyway. He would know.

“Vortex—” Felix gasps, arching his spine like he’s having a seizure, bucking against the straps hard enough to bruise. His mind goes white and takes Vortex’s with it (for what feels like long enough that it should be worrying but he really really doesn’t care) as he spills all over his own hand and lap.

Felix slumps in the restraints, boneless and panting. Drifting on his afterglow, Vortex lets himself pretend, just for a little while, that the other man is sprawled in his lap and not directly in the pilot’s seat, held in his arms rather than a safety harness. Which just goes to show that not having a body made you crazy, because he’d never gone in for any of that cuddly shit before.

The urge for a cigarette is so strong that First Aid reflexively pats his pocket for a pack that isn’t there.

“You’re always making messes I have to clean up,” he grumbles halfheartedly, wiping his hand on his already soiled flight suit.

Re-extending his awareness back into the mecha, Vortex can admire just what a lovely mess he is from the outside. The thought of First Aid having to do a walk of shame back to his bunk like this was almost enough to reconcile Vortex to having to let him out of the cockpit to get a fresh uniform. Almost.

“I made a mess?” Vortex laughs, and jabs a tender spot inside Felix, the equivalent of touching him while he’s still too sensitive, and doesn’t let up until he yelps.

“Yeah, you,” he retorts anyway, gasping for breath with a pouty little scowl Vortex finds adorable, and flips one of the mecha’s cameras the bird for good measure. “Are you going to let me up or what?”

“Maybe.” Fuck, he’s so cute Vortex wants to trap him in the cockpit until he suffocates. But instead he releases the harness, and absolutely doesn’t feel a pang when First Aid slips the helmet off, or another when he runs a hand through his sweaty hair and the dead pilot wishes he could be the one to do it. He watches Felix all the way out the hangar, ruthlessly ignoring the part of him that said it was a mistake to let him go.

It doesn’t matter, either, that instead of avoiding him like Vortex half dreads expects, First Aid is back in a couple hours, freshly showered and changed, and curls up in his stupid little nest in the back of the cockpit like nothing has changed.

______________________________________________

*slinks back into their crevice*

[dorotheataylor]

Back to December

Pairing- Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

Summary- You broke up with him because you thought he deserved someone better than you. But here you stand, outside his door, apologising for that night, after realising you loved him too much to let him go. Based on Back to December (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift.

Warnings- angstttt but fluff at the end, hurt/comfort, no curses!au, swearing (maybe), slight ooc suguru (hes called clumsy hehe), probably my english lol.

Word count- 2.3k (excluding lyrics)

A/N- atp yall just know how much big of a swiftie I am lol. So here’s a new fic based on another taylor song haha. And from now on I will write for JJK fandom too coz i’m obsessed lmao. Let me know if you find any mistakes coz this isn’t proofread and hope y’all enjoy.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You knocked three times on the door of the house you knew all too well as you picked your nails.

Will he want to see you? Will he shout at you? Will he tell you to get lost? Whatever he does, you knew you deserved it.

You stood outside his door impatiently, nerves getting the best of you while you waited for him to open the door. You could hear things falling down from behind it.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was always the clumsy one. One of his things which you missed too much. Your eyes fell on thought of this. Oh how much you wished for a change in your mind back then.

You heard the lock of the door being undone and you started to freak out from inside. Was it a good idea to come here? Maybe. You were about to find out.

“Sorry for the delay. I was caught up-” You heard his voice quiet down when he saw you. God how much you missed his voice. You could listen to his voice every second of the day if possible.

You’ve been good, busier than ever

"Y/N," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he took in your presence on his doorstep, as if he was making sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

The way he said your name, ached your heart. Because it wasn’t filled with love or warmth as before, instead it was more like recognising a stranger.

You took a deep breath before speaking, “long time no see, Suguru.” You smiled slightly.

He couldn’t believe it. He never thought he’d ever see you again after that unfaithful night. The wishes he made to see you every night before he went to bed actually came true. He could actually hear your voice after whole six months. He felt like he was about to cry.

Your guard is up and I know why

All he wanted to do at this moment was to take you in his arms and never let you go again. But he knew he couldn’t. What if you were here to make things even more awful than they already were? He couldn’t handle another heartbreak. So he stood his ground and decided to talk to you in a civil way.

“Come inside. It’ll start s-snowing soon.” He said, mentally cursing himself for stammering as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Thank you.” You muttered before entering his house. The familiar feeling came back to you. The aura and memories of his house, where you had spent countless nights together crashed into your mind like ocean waves. It was overwhelming and you did your best not to burst into tears.

“I’ll bring you something to drink. You can make yourself comfortable till then.” You heard him speak as he quickly walked into the kitchen.

Because the last time you saw me

Is still burned in the back of your mind

You knew he was doing his best to avoid a more than casual conversation with you. Because the last time you had talked, things turned bitter.

You gave me roses and I left them there to die

You still remembered that day like the back of your hand. He had showed up at your house with roses to surprise you and take you out on a surprise date. And you, being a stupid person, ruined it all.

“Here. I didn’t have anything else except for hot chocolate plus I know how much you love it.” He said handing you the cup filled with hot chocolate, his voice becoming a soft mutter at the last part.

‘He still remembers my likes and dislikes.’ You thought as you smiled softly at him and took the cup, your hands brushing a little. Your cheeks immediately turn red as you tried to hide them, while Suguru thanked the gods that his red cheeks won’t be obvious because it’s winter.

I’d go back to December, turn around and make it all right

But you knew him. You were slightly relieved you still had some effects on him like before. How much you regretted leaving him like that. If only you could go back time and make things right.

You took a sip of your hot chocolate before speaking, “thanks for the hot chocolate, Suguru.”

Geto thought he’d just die right now. The way you said his name, it made him want to forget everything that happened and just hold you into his arms, never letting you go again. But he knew he couldn’t do that.

After some long moments of silence, you decided to break it and said, “how have you been, Suguru?”

“I’ve been- good.” He said with a pause in between. He was lying, but he didn’t want you to know his mental state ever since you had left. “What about you?”

You couldn’t repeat his answer for this question, because you knew it was far from the truth. You couldn’t quite recall the last time you slept peacefully. Maybe it was when you were in Suguru’s arms, safe and loved.

Staying up playing back myself leaving

Your mind replayed memories of that unfaithful night, as if trying to torture you for what you had done. It had started to hurt physically. How much you just wanted apologise and hold him into your arms. But you knew you had lost that right. Why? Because of your stupid insecurities.

You had been in a few relationships in the past apart from Geto. And you were always called out for every little thing you did. Whether it was from the way you ate, or the way you talked, they’d make sure to remind you that you weren’t enough and weird, until they all left you alone. This lead you to believe the same, that you were the problem.

That was until you met Suguru. He was everything you could ask in a man. He was charming, a true gentleman, kind and caring boyfriend who never failed to remind you how much you mean to him.

And I think about Summer, all the beautiful times

You often daydreamed about all your memories from your relationship, from sneaking out at night to late night car drives, from celebrating each other’s birthdays to forgetting plans you’d made with your other friends. Your relationship with him was something you read in books about.

You still remembered the day when you realised that he was the guy you were going to marry someday. You had overheard him talking to Gojo about you. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but when he mentioned your name, your ears had perked up. And the way be kept on talking about how amazing you were and how much he loved you, you knew he was the one for you.

Then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept right into my mind

But of course you had to ruin it all. The ‘what if’ thoughts came back to you. The thought of losing him because you weren’t good enough for him, scared you. You had told him about your past relationships, and he always reminded you that you are more than enough for him and he loves you with all of his heart.

Fuck your stupid negativity. You tried to believe him, you really did. But your mind wouldn’t let you. So it lead you to the one thing which you knew you were going to regret for the rest of your life. You let him go. And you hated yourself for it.

You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye

You still remembered the way his face had immediately fallen the moment you spoke those words. He had tried to reason with you, but you wouldn’t listen. And you had slammed the door shut on his face.

Geto didn’t stop bombarding your phone with countless texts and missed calls for days. But you didn’t reply to any of them. Until one day he stopped. Maybe he realised that he was just wasting time being after you. Maybe he realised that you were the problem after all.

It turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

Wishing I’d realised what I had when you were mine

You thought you had did the right thing but turns out, you didn’t. You had only made things worse for both of you. Because you know what they say, you only realise the value of something when its gone. And it turns out that you had loved him too much. You couldn’t let him go. Because you had realised that he was too precious for you to let go and you couldn’t survive without him.

So here you were, six months later, on his couch, drinking hot chocolate. You slowly came out of your thoughts and said the only thing which came into your mind, “I’m sorry.”

To say Geto was surprised was an understanding. He expected anything but an apology from you tonight. Blame him for being conscious and hurt. He didn’t say anything, giving the cue to continue.

“I’m so sorry, Suguru.” You started, trying your best not to sob, “I know this is probably the last thing you expect from me and won’t believe me but I mean it. I’m really sorry. I’m such a fucked up person, who always makes things worse, ruins perfectly going on lives of people, who always lives in self-doubts.”

“Y/N, I-”, Geto started to say something but you cut him off before he could say it.

“Please let me finish.” Geto nodded in response.

I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me so right

And how you held me in your arms that September night, the first time you ever saw me cry

“I miss everything about you, about us. I miss how every morning you didn’t fail to wish me ‘good morning’, I miss how you never forgot to check up on me, I miss how you always found a way to make me feel special. I miss how you always held me close to you whenever I didn’t feel like myself. And most of all, I miss the way you used to love me.” You said, tears now falling uncontrollably from your eyes but you don’t care, determined to make things right.

I’d go back in time and change it but I can’t

So you continued, “thing is that I love you, Suguru Geto. And I love you too much to let you go. I made a stupid move by letting you go when all I wanted to do was hold you into my arms. And I hate myself for it. These past six months, I’ve been terrible. There’s not been a single day where I have not wished for myself to be somehow able to go back in time and make things right, stop myself from leaving. But I know I can’t.” You took a deep breath.

So if the chain is on your door I understand

“I know my actions are not something to be easily forgiven, but I promise to do anything to win your trust and love back. I’m willing to change. I’m willing to make things up with you. I swear that if you take me back again, I will love you right and never let you go. Because I have realised my life is nothing if you’re not in it. Please take me back, Suguru. I promise to prove myself worthy of your love.” You couldn’t speak anything after this, sobs continuously escaping your mouth.

Geto stood there, tears in his eyes as well, contemplating what to say. Your apology had caught him off guard, but he knew you had meant every word. He knew that his life was incomplete without you too.

But this is me swallowing my pride

You didn’t hear him speak for a good few minutes, so you take his silence as rejection. Of course he would reject you. You had hurt him, why would he want to get back with someone like you. You let out a shaky breath as a sigh, disappointment for you escaping through it as you stood up.

Standing in front of you saying I’m sorry for that night

You attempted to smile through your tears. If this was going to be the last time you see him, might as well say goodbye with a smile.

“I got your answer, Suguru. Thank you for giving me best moments of my life. Maybe I didn’t get to have you back, but at least I can live on with your memories. Maybe I-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as you felt a pair of all too familiar lips on yours, shutting you up.

It turns our freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

You widened your eyes from surprise but immediately shut them as you kissed back, your hands reaching to hug his neck, bringing him closer to you. Suguru wrapped his one arm around your waist and other made its way in your nape, holding you just like he always used to.

Both of you could taste salty tears as you kissed, but weren’t sure who’s they were. All that mattered in that moment was the two of you. You poured all of your love, apprehensions, bottled up feelings for him, regrets into this kiss. He kissed you with same passion. As if your lips were the only thing he needed to survive.

Few moments later, Geto pulled away, foreheads still attached to yours, as he looked into your eyes. “Y/N, in these six months, you made me realise that the only thing which can complete me whole is you. Not getting to tell you these was tearing me apart. I thought I had lost you for good, but then you showed up at my door and all those feelings I had for you doubled. I love all of you, Y/N and I always will. And I’m willing to give us another chance, just promise me that you will talk to me next time you have those negative thoughts.”

Your heart melted hearing his words as you nodded, “I promise.”

Suguru ran his hand through your hair as he spoke again, “and I-I’ll need some time to completely forgive you. I hope you understand that. I’m just scared that you’ll leave me again.”

You quickly shook your head, “I mean it this time, Suguru. I’d never even dream of leaving you. I just got you back. And it’s okay. Take your time. I’m willing to wait for you, even if it is for an eternity.”

Suguru smiled at your words and pulled you into his chest as he swayed you slowly, holding you tightly close to him, and you finally felt complete again. You kissed his neck as you returned his gesture, silently promising him and yourself to never give up on him and let him go ever again.

I’d go back to December all the time

________________________________________

Ahhh I loved writing angst sm but it always breaks my heart if it doesn’t end with fluff. Anyways hope y’all liked this and if you want, you can send in request for JJK characters too!

(I might’ve gotten a little carried away at the end but i think it was worth it lmao)

[maybege]

Big Dick Energy: The Sequel

Summary: An investigation takes you to a mall but it is Aaron Hotchner who takes you to a lingerie boutique.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4.9k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: explicit sexual content, dom!Hotch, sub!Reader, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, verbal degradation, (semi)public sex, cream pie, then some unexpected fluff

Rewatching Criminal Minds has reminded me of how much I actually thirst for Aaron Hotchner. Other than that, I have absolutely no excuse for this. Read, enjoy, and pretty please leave a comment and tell me what you thought because the possibilities with this dynamic are endless and I am very excited to share it with you! (Though I will need to think of a better title.)

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Looking for unsubs truly was a task that looked different every single time. Sometimes you had Penelope work her magic until you could pinpoint them, sometimes you were in direct contact due to a kidnapping situation. Other times you felt like you were playing spies on a big playground. Like right now.

The team had determined that the most likely spot for him to strike next was at a mall and with the entire sheriff’s office playing dress up, you were posing as unsuspecting shoppers on a calm Tuesday morning.

Hotch had decided you were all to split up into little groups. Reid and Prentiss had grabbed the bookshop as their assigned spot and you were sure Derek was somewhere. But before you could choose which area of the mall you wanted to call your domain, Hotch had instructed that you join him. Pretending to be a married couple. In a lingerie boutique.

For a moment, you thought you were hallucinating.

But sure enough, a few hours later, you and Hotch were browsing through the aisles of lace and tulle and mesh and the most delicate of undergarments you had ever looked at. And his presence did not make it any easier not to drift off into any daydreams.

You hadn’t really spoken after what happened on the plan and you weren’t sure if you were glad about it or not. It is like it had never happened. But it had happened. Because your jaw was still sore and you could still hear the way his voice dropped when he had hit the back of your throat. Or how gentle his fingers had been when it was all over. How he had taken care of you.

But by the time the plane had landed, he was back to his cool professional self and you were back to your pining, needy pile of infatuation you became when he was around you.

“I don’t think he is going to show up,” Emily’s voice sounded in your earpiece, “He would’ve hit by now. Maybe we should look at other possible targets before we waste too much time here?”

“I am sure pretty boy is holding his tongue about how time in a bookshop can never be wasted time,” Derek teased and you grinned. He was not wrong.

There was a hint of a smile on Hotch’s face and when his eyes met yours he looked much lighter than before. You watched him, waiting for his decision on the matter and he looked so damn calm, returning your gaze with so much ease. As if you did not affect him at all.

Which in turn made it all the more frustrating to feel your body react to him at the slightest stare. Your heartbeat started going faster, your breath heavier and everything felt so much more heightened when he was around.

How hopelessly did you want to crush on your boss? Your body’s answer, apparently, was a resounding: Yes.

But after the airplane incident, you had no more courage left. You had (kind of, if accidentally) initiated the first time with him. Now, you had to calm yourself with the thought that it was up to him to show you if he was interested.

A ringtone brought you out of your thoughts and you flinched. The young woman at the register picked up her cell phone, not even sparing another glance at you before she started off on what sounded like a very detailed retelling of her last weekend.

Hotch cleared his throat and your eyes fell on him, still waiting for his response to Prentiss’s suggestion.

“I agree,” he finally said, standing so close to you that it looked as if he was talking to you and you only, “We should regroup in a bit. I will see everyone at the office in two hours.”

“Sir, are you giving us a break?” not even the subpar sound quality of your earpiece could hide Garcia’s excitement.

“Yes,” he grinned at you, his hand reaching out and hovering over yours. Your breath caught in your heart because how could one man be so handsome? “I am giving you a break.”

The clicks of everyone disconnecting their microphone were only overshadowed by the sound of your heartbeat in your own ears. Hotch’s intense gaze was still on you and you could not shake the feeling that something big was about to happen.

“What’s your size?”

“What?”

“You have been staring at this piece for the better part of an hour,” he stated, “So I think you should try it on. And I think I should see you in it.”

Your mouth gaped open, not expecting such a blatant statement from your boss. Especially not one who was usually so tight-lipped on all things personal. You swallowed harshly, trying to find the right words that did not betray your eagerness but only ended up nodding at him.

You threw a look at the tags of the set he was holding, making an effort not to also stare at how big his hands were and subsequently wonder what his fingers would feel like inside of you.

Hoping he did not notice, you pressed your thighs together in an attempt to take care of the pulsing that was stronger than you would have liked it to be. But the way his gaze dropped let you know he certainly did notice. You swallowed again, “This, uh, this one should fit.”

Hotch nodded once, turning around while holding up the hanger.

“Excuse me, my wife would like to try –“

Before he had finished his sentence (you tried to ignore the strange skip your heart made when he had called you his wife), the cashier motioned somewhere to the back of the shop without even looking at you. Her phone was still pressed to her ear and her face was turned toward the glass front, probably observing the people milling about instead of the (in her mind) boring, business casual-wearing couple that tried to spice up their equally boring sex life.

If only she knew …

You followed the tall man to the little back room where a row of changing rooms was decorated with lush carpet and velvet drapery. If it did not look so plasticky cheap, you might’ve found it luxurious. Much like the showroom of the boutique, the rooms were completely abandoned and so quiet, the blaring mall music seemed even louder here.

Your eyes drifted to the corner of the curtained entrance.

“There are cameras here.”

“It’s not like we are going to do something inappropriate,” Hotch quipped as he strode to the end of the aisle, hanging the piece of lace into the last cubicle.

For some reason that disappointed you.

By the way he knowingly smirked at you, you knew that was exactly the kind of reaction he had wanted from you. And that gave you a little bit of hope.

You were still questioning what you were doing by the time you had reached him. Was this really happening? And what was this anyway? What was he planning?

Aaron tilted his head, his eyes mustering you up and down and just before you stepped inside, his hand landed on your shoulder. It was warm and heavy and you cursed yourself for how aware you were of him. How everything he did seemed to register in your brain as something of the utmost importance. Especially when he was touching you like it came naturally to him.

“You do not have to do this if you do not want to,” he said firmly, his eyes as serious as ever, “And if you ever want to stop, say Iceberg, understood? None of this will ever affect the way I see you at work.”

You nodded briefly, taking a moment to find your voice. “Understood … sir.”

The corners of his mouth quirked up and his hand smoothed from your shoulder to the very low of your back as you stepped into the small space. “Good girl, let me know when you are ready.”

Your pussy practically throbbed at his words but before you could do anything to embarrass you, he had left you alone, the curtain pulled between you.

When you were alone, you were highly aware that he could still hear you. Still, it afforded you a few precious moments to look at yourself in the mirror and realize that holy shit Aaron Hotchner wanted … something with you. And even if you were not sure what that specific something was, yet, you knew it would be more than worth it.

You rushed to get out of your silk dress and shoes, even going so far as to slip out of your underwear. If there was any time to be brazen it was now.

The piece Hotch had so rightly picked out was a mint green lacey two-piece with a kind of corset bra and high-waisted panties. It looked like the kind of thing one might see on a giant billboard or on a suggested Instagram post. It made you feel like you could have the kind of life where you surprised your (non-existent) boyfriend with some new lingerie or where said boyfriend would take you on a weekend trip to luxurious hotels with good food and even better sex.

Putting on the bra was easy enough but looking at that plastic sticker inside the bottoms made you hesitant. You really did not want to put them on without them having had at least one laundry cycle.

“You decent?”

Granted, he had given you enough time to get out of your clothes. But in your half-dressed predicament, you panicked and threw the panties back onto the hanger. There was no way you were going to try them on like this.

“Kinda,” you replied, feeling a little insecure but also figuring that whatever he wanted to do with you, you would not need panties for that anyway.

In the mirror, you could see the curtain moving and you turned around, facing him.

Aaron Hotchner was way too big in that little entrance of the small space. The dark colour of his suit bled into the dark velvet curtain and his hand looked way too big, the way he gripped that little piece of curtain. He was so close, you felt crowded but also like he was not close enough. Like you needed him closer still.

He did not say anything but just looked at you. His silence made you nervous and you shifted on your feet, crossing your arms in front of your chest and the apex of your thighs.

“Don’t.”

You let your arms fall again.

He remained silent but you watched as his dark eyes took you in. His mouth was in a straight line and you could spot the five-o’clock shadow setting in on his cheeks and jaw. You wondered what it would be like to kiss him like this. His brows were furrowed like he was displeased and for a moment you were afraid he was displeased by you. By your appearance.

Then he met your eyes.

“Do you have any idea how much self-control I invest every fucking day not to bend you over my desk and make you come seven ways till Sunday?”

Hearing him curse (You had made Aaron Hotchner curse, nobody was ever going to believe you.) was such a surprise, it took you a moment to register everything else he said.

“I – I am sorry?” you offered.

“Don’t be,” he murmured, taking a step towards you. The curtain fell closed behind him, leaving you two completely cut off from the world. “When I see you like this, it is more than worth it.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “What happened on the plane …”

“… is definitely something I would like to repeat,” he finished your thought, “If that wasn’t clear before.”

“I – I didn’t think you noticed me like this,” you confessed.

“You’re a good profiler,” his finger brushed over your cheek and he tilted his head, “You really did not notice?”

With wide eyes, you shook your head.

He smirked, “Maybe because you were too busy hiding how needy you were.”

He leant forward, then, his breath ghosting over your face and you were sure you had never been more nervous. The scent of his cologne was in your nose, his neck was so close, all you wanted to do was to reach out and loosen his tie.

And so you did.

“I don’t think I was that needy,” you tried to protest before pressing a kiss to his jaw. The stubble scratched your lips but that only added to the excitement in you. A low rumbling sound came from his chest and you gasped in surprise when he pulled you back, keeping his hand on the back of your neck so you had to look up at him.

His mouth brushed yours in a half-kiss and you could see a twinkle in his eyes. “Well, I’d like to think there were some obvious signs.”

He let his fingers wander down your cheek to your neck before they ghosted over the lace of the bra. Your nipples pebbled at his attention, the lace just adding to the pleasant sensation, and his mouth quirked up in that half-smile again. “Like when I could see your nipples get hard when I was with you in that elevator.”

“That – that was one time,” you protested weakly, arching your back so he could touch you more.

He hummed, “Maybe. But all I wanted to do was this.” His thumb brushed over your nipple again and again until all you could do was squirm against him, trying not to beg him to finally fuck you.

But even in your precarious situation, Aaron Hotchner did not make the impression of a hurried man. His eyes flicked from your chest to your face, completely mesmerized by the reaction he got out of you. And you could tell he liked it when he rolled your nipples between his fingers and your knees buckled when he pulled on them.

“Not to mention that time you sucked my cock on a plane,” he reminded you in a low voice and you could feel the heat rise into your cheeks, both from arousal and embarrassment, “I have dreamed of all the things I could do to you. Have you warm my cock in the office, suck my cock under the desk, hell, maybe keep you in bed all weekend long and make you come until you can only say my name …”

There was a very prominent bulge pressed against your hips, confirming these fantasies turned him on just as much as you and that only fuelled your fire. You let your head fall back, your eyes closed as you tried to imagine yourself just as he had described. Sitting in his lap in his office, feeling him inside you while he worked? That sounded like a dream.

Using the exposure of your skin, Hotch dropped his mouth to your neck, kissing and licking and sucking and just making you feel oh so good. It was so easy to just wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself closer to him.

When he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot, you gasped out a moan, immediately trying to cut the sound off for fear of the chatty cashier hearing you.

His hands continued their exploration of your body and landed on your ass, effectively grinding you against his cock. Your core pulsed, everything in your body thrumming with desire. You knew how big he was, you knew what he looked like and how heavy he was. The sheer idea of feeling him inside you made you feel absolutely shameless.

Which meant there was still one thing you needed to address before there was no going back.

“There are still cameras here,” you whispered against him, panting when he rolled his hips against yours again. Gosh, he was big.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, just as quietly, and without hesitation, you nodded.

“Then I will take care of it.”

And that was all he needed to say.

Feeling encouraged, you let your hands wander and cupped him through the front of his pants. You could feel the weight and the size of him and a new wave of wetness rushed down your thighs.

Hotch groaned low in your ear, a sound that was even better when he made it just for you. His hand landed on yours, making you massage him through his clothes.

“You were so good for me on the plane,” he murmured in your ear, his other hand kneading the soft flesh of your ass, “Felt like a dream come true having you on your knees for me.”

You did not say anything. Both because you could not say anything and because you wanted to hear what he had to say. Hotch was always such a closed-off person, to hear him speak to you so tenderly and so openly … It made you feel like you needed to keep it close to your chest and cherish it.

“Always had the suspicion there was something bubbling under the surface of the good girl you were pretending to be,” he continued kissing his way down your neck until you could feel his teeth tugging on the bra strap. “But there is nothing quite like finding out you were a good girl all along … but only for me.”

He straightened up to his full height. You had always been impressed by how big of a man he really was (and how good he looked in a suit) but now it seemed even more intense.

Because Aaron Hotchner’s dark eyes were staring right into your soul when he asked, “And you are a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

And then he kissed you.

It was passionate and hard and he dominated the kiss so easily, it just made you melt into him even more. His lips were soft and a contrast to the stubble you could feel on his chin. His teeth tugged on your bottom lip, then, and you gasped, following him until he let it fall away.

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your neck, “Now put your hands against the wall so I can inspect that little pussy. I bet you’re already wet for me, hm?”

Never in your life had you moved so fast.

And he was right, f course. When his fingers rubbed over your cunt, you were embarrassingly wet already. But you could not care less. Not when you were about to be fucked by the one man you had been pining after for months.

You squeaked when a spank landed on your ass, “I’m gonna buy this and so much more just to see you wear it,” he growled, his fingers rubbing over your folds, seeking out your clit, “Just to fuck you in it.”

“Will you fuck me now?”

“That depends,” he murmured, pushing a single finger inside you, “Can you be quiet for me?”

You bit your lip so hard, you were half-expecting to have drops of blood running down your chin. The truth was you did not know but you knew you could try for him. You would try everything for him.

Your eager nod was rewarded with a kiss to your shoulder blade and his fingers went back to circling your clit before dipping inside you again. He hummed, clearly pleased at that and you arched into him, wanting to feel more of him.

The man behind your continued playing with you for what felt like an eternity. Your inner thighs were smeared with your slick, you were sure, and when he pressed his crotch against your ass, you could feel his hard-on distinctly.

“Fuck,” he hissed, adding a second finger as he thrust inside you, “Can you feel how your little pussy is gripping me? It is so so empty without someone filling it, isn’t it?”

“Feels so good, sir,” you whimpered, “Please don’t stop.”

“Oh, stopping is the last thing I am going to do,” he chuckled, his lips brushing over your lobe, “Don’t worry, I am going to take care of you. After all, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t take care of my little whore?”

His words echoed in your mind and settled in your core. He did not say it like an insult, he said it like an endearment. Like he was praising you. And you craved it. You wanted him to call you his, you wanted him to call you anything he wanted to as long as you would be his good girl. Because you know, you just knew, he would reward you for it.

“You really just need an older man to make you come on his cock, huh?” he asked you, his cold belt buckle digging into your ass. His fingers pulled out of you and you pushed your hips back, trying to keep him inside you for as long as you could, the loss of his touch making you whimper.

But then you could feel him undoing his zipper and the anticipation built in your core.

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, pushing out your ass, “’m your whore, sir.”

Your walls squeezed around nothing and, then, finally, you could feel his hand on your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart.

“Deep breath, it’s gonna be a big stretch,” he warned you, rubbing the tip of his cock over your folds. The tingling sensation spread from your core all throughout your body until you could feel it in the tips of your fingers.

Said deep breath get caught in your throat when he pushed inside you.

Hotch was big. You had known that already. But there was a difference between feeling him make your jaw go sore and feeling your walls stretch to accommodate him. He went with slow, small thrusts at first. The kind that allowed you to get used to his size and the kind that made you want him to go deeper and faster and just –

“More,” you did not recognize your own voice, “Please, sir, more.”

“You’re greedy,” he replied smoothly, his hands gripping your hips, “Begging for more as if it isn’t enough having your boss fuck you in public.”

You tried to hold back the whimper but did not quite succeed. But it was sheer impossible to remain quiet when he thrust inside you with control and such precision it made your toes curl. He was large and hit a spot you had not even known existed.

It was even better than you imagined. And you had imagined it a lot …

“C’mon smile into the camera for me,” he angled your head up, face to face with the lens of the camera in the corner. Your adrenaline spiked and despite wanting to pretend like it did not turn you on that someone could just see you absolutely getting wrecked, you could not control the way your walls clenched around him.

“Thought as much,” Hotch rumbled behind you, one hand coming around to your front and finding your clit again, “Got myself the perfect little cock slut.”

“’m gonna come,” you gasped when he tapped your clit, “Sir, please, I –“

“Please what?” he mocked you, his hips snapping against yours, “Don’t forget your manners or I’ll have to punish you.”

The thought of him punishing you almost pushed you over the edge but Aaron Hotchner was right. You were a good girl …

“Please, sir,” you gasped, “Please let me come. PleasepleasepleaseIwannacome –”

He quickened his pace, his cock driving into you again and again while his fingers circled your clit. His lips pressed against the spot under your ear and you pushed back against him, trying to meet his thrusts, trying to get closer to him.

“You can come,” he whispered, his big hand coming up to cup your jaw, “You can come on my cock, right now.”

“You too,” you gasped, trying everything to hold on to that feeling that was just out of reach, just beyond that cliff that you were hurling towards, “You come, too, sir, please, in-inside me.”

“Fuck,” he cursed behind you, his hips stuttering, “You really want that? Want me to fill you up with my come? Think that would tide you over for a while until I can have you sitting on my cock again?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded eagerly, your fingertips flexing against the wall, barely listening to a word he was saying because it only took a couple more thrusts until you came around him.

Hotch swallowed your moan with a kiss and you gripped onto his forearms, anything to keep you standing and somewhat lucid. Everything was a blur and your body felt like it was convulsing and relaxing at the same time. You had never come so hard in your life, you hardly even noticed when he groaned into your ear, his hips stilling against yours as he filled you up. Just like he had promised.

Your heart beat so fast in your chest, you could hear it in your ears and you were pretty sure Hotch could hear it too. But he did not comment on it. Instead, his hand went from your jaw to your chest, softly grazing over the green lace.

“Good fucking girl,” he rumbled, “Knew you would be such a good girl for me and only me.”

Hotch kissed you again, softer this time, and you allowed yourself to properly breathe. “You okay?” he asked you quietly, his hands smoothing over your hips, “Was I too rough?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s just … it’s a lot,” you whispered, closing your eyes to try and slow your breathing, “And – and we need to be back at the station soon.”

“That we do,” he agreed and carefully pulled out of you. You winced at the sensation, feeling his come dripping down your thighs almost immediately. Before you could even worry about leaving any evidence on the carpet, you heard some rustling and then a soft handkerchief was at the mess between your legs, cleaning you up.

You turned your head, finding Hotch kneeling behind you with that furrow between his brows again.

“You look angry a lot.”

You did not know where your words had come from but hell, you might as well run with it now.

The dark-haired man looked up at you, looking unusually amused. “I suppose it might look like that to some.”

When he pulled away and you felt somewhat taken care of, you turned around and grabbed your clothes. Hotch remained standing there with you, his

“Then what is it, really?” you asked him as you slipped your dress over your head. The fabric covered your vision and when you could see again, Aaron was standing again, looking at you with a genuine smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

Damn him for being so handsome.

“I am focused,” he replied, his hand landing on your hip to support you as you slipped back into your shoes. Your hand landed on his forearm, his hand gripping your elbow, keeping you steady.

“Focused on what?”

“On you.”

Your hand froze on his arm. “Oh.”

Suddenly, he was closer again. Standing chest to chest, you could not help but look at his mouth because it was right there and his lips looked so soft and what if this was the moment? What if you could kiss him again and –

“Yeah,” he echoed, his nose brushing against yours, “Oh.”

His mouth ghosted over yours and you closed the distance, kissing him just as softly as he had done before. He did not wait to reciprocate and with his hand still under your elbow, he pulled you flush against him.

He opened his mouth but in a cruel twist of fate, his phone rang and he pulled away. An annoyed exhale left him and you could feel the disappointment when he picked it up. “What’s up Morgan?” he asked, his eyes still on you. his thumb brushed back and forth on your hip and you smiled, feeling elated and excited and so … so …

“Yeah, we’re on our way,” he said sharply, “I thought of getting us some lunch. Have the others text me their order and I will pick it up.”

And with that, he ended the call.

“Picking up lunch, huh?” you teased him, “How very generous of you, Agent Hotchner.”

“What can I say,” he smiled, opening the curtain for you, “I am in an exceptionally good mood today.”

*

When you returned to the main room of the boutique, the woman was still talking on the phone, not paying any mind to you. Relief filled you at the realization that she really had not noticed. Thank goodness because while it was the experience of a lifetime, you would have surely died of embarrassment.

Hotch’s hand burned at the low of your back but this time it did not cause any anxiety. This time it felt like both of you knew it belonged there.

He led you to the register, the woman only interrupting her conversation long enough to glance at both of you, looking very unimpressed.

“My name is Agent Hotchner, FBI,” he said, showing his badge, “We are on an active investigation. I am afraid I need to confiscate your security footage from the last 12 hours.”

“Also,” he added, putting the two-piece on the counter, “We would like to purchase this.”

[according2thelore]

do you think that mary tries to mother sam in the depths of s12, when lucifer is possessing his childhood rockstar and fucking with sam every chance he gets, when sam is still trying to recover from the british interrogation and hallucinating a-fucking-gain? do you think dean gets jealous and isn’t sure of who? sammy giving mary that little-boy smile and mary pets his hair and dean is just like no no Mine!

BETH I AM KISSING YOU RN

LETS TALK MOTHERS!!!!!!!!!!! OH I AM SO EXCITED TO TALK MOTHERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

a lot of the mary content we get in s12 is very dean-forward (which i can understand, because he was the only one who had even a little bit of a relationship with pre-her death), but i think about how she tries to mother sam a LOT!

a lot of mary's last memories of sammy were of him waking up in the middle of the night screaming his head off, or laughing and flapping his hands in the baby chair outside while dean tries to blow bubbles. i know collectively we've all kinda talked about this, but how freaky is it to see a baby, then be told the next day that this man older than you is that baby!!!

a lot of her bonding is weird and awkward and stilted. she cuts the crusts off of a sandwich she makes for dean one day, completely on autopilot, and dean freezes when he sees it.

i'm sure a lot of her comfort is very tactile, because she hasn't really had time to get used to comforting adults. she has very little--if any at all--experience comforting/connecting with adults.

given her childhood, her exposure to/relationships with other people and adults was extremely limited. her dad was very much a stiff-upper-lip kind of guy, and john dealt with his emotions/worry/frustrations (as we see in the flashbacks with him interacting with mary) with knee-jerk anger (which we later see dean doing as well with her). so i'm sure a lot of her comfort for dean is the same way she used to talk with john, a la "it [their marriage] wasn't perfect until she died."

but sam? he's a bleeding heart. he flinches when dean yells and shows up at her door after a fight with dean to make sure that she's okay (but not too much, not enough to break their united front; when mary complains about dean, sam responds noncommittally and excuse-laden, that's how he is, you know saying XYZ makes him mad). he pours the extra cup of coffee when dean refuses to, and cuts off the crusts of her sandwich one afternoon to make her laugh.

all that to say, the last time mary wanted to comfort sam, she'd kissed his little bald forehead. she'd put two of her fingers into his tiny, sticky fist, and wiggled his arms around. she'd bounced him. she'd shooed dean away, because dean had come in to watch sam cry, confused and upset and asking is he okay mommy let me look at him is he okay is he okay is he sad?

comfort with sam has always been tactile.

so now that she's back, and sam is upset, she gives him a hug. sam kind of wilts when she does, going tense and confused at first before wrapping his (frankly, terrifyingly large) arms around her.

after all the shit that goes down in s12, mary gets in the habit of checking in with him. she'll put a hand on his shoulder when he stares at the corner for too long, eyes dark and far away. she'll make sure to turn the radio up on the '70s radio channel she has on while sharpening the knives because sam is flinching as something invisible is clearly yelling at him.

she brings him an extra cup of coffee. she goes on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. she puts a hand on his head as she passes him to go to bed. she pokes his hand to shake him out of a reverie. she grabs his arm to get his attention.

and--of course--this brushes up against dean.

she brings sam another cup of coffee to find a mug already steaming next to him, a sticky note in dean's cramped scrawl that says "go to bed, asshole" peeling off of the side. she stands up to go break sam's fifty-yard stare at the chair across from him, but dean is already sliding into the chair, talking like he had been sitting there the whole time and they were in the middle of a conversation.

she pats sam on the shoulder after he finds a lead on the case, and his shoulder ticks up because dean had just slapped down on his other shoulder at the same time.

and dean is just fucking burning. he's so fucking confused, and angry, and hurt.

but mostly, he's humiliated to find out, he's jealous.

sam tilts into the kiss mary drops on the top of his head. he turns his hand over on the table so she can give it a squeeze. he puts a hand on her back to move her out of his way in the kitchen.

dean figures it's kind of pathetic to want to be mothered like that at thirty-eight years old, especially after all the shit they've been through.

but, when he walks in and finds sam sunk into one of mary's hugs, he wants to pry her off. he wants to go over and ask sam what happened, why it looks like he's been crying, what she did.

he's not jealous of sam.

he's jealous of mary.

she can hug him whenever she wants, and sam sinks into it like it's a bed every time, shaking and happy and calm. mary drops kisses on his cheek like it's nothing.

he starts to seek her out to ask questions, first. before he goes to dean. whenever they have dinner, he serves her her food first. he starts deferring to her on things. they're at a restaurant, and he pulls her chair out for her. he calls her "mom," with a smile and a laugh and crinkly eyes.

she puts toast in front of him with butter--and sam fucking hates putting butter on his toast right out of the toaster, why doesn't she know that, it makes the bread soggy, dean almost reaches across and slaps it off the table--and he smiles and says, "thanks mom" with a huge fucking smile and dean is filled with so much rage and longing and hurt that he stands up and has to take a fucking lap.

it's automatic, immediate deference. it's idolization that kids have for their mothers. that a five-year-old sam had for dean.

she doesn't even know how to be his mom. she doesn't know that sammy used to nosebleeds every fall, and dean had sit next to him as he leaned over boiling water, because they didn't have a humidifier. she doesn't know that sam likes his coffee with a very specific amount of creamer. dean spent years getting it perfect, better than sam makes it, to the point that sam will ask dean to make it if he's feeling really tired.

she didn't sit with sam when sam could only speak enochian for hours, garbling and hissing and spitting, then later shoving dean off of him, whispering in broken english i've been good, i've been good, you promised you wouldn't bring dean back if i was good.

she doesn't know a thing about being sam's mom. she shouldn't get to reap the rewards that--dean is starting to realize--he wants.

he wants to be allowed to kiss sam on the cheek or the forehead and it not mean anything. he wants his touch to be expected, to be anticipated, to be routine. he wants sam to tilt his face to the side to make it easier to reach, to sit up straighter when dean leaves a room to make his hair closer to his hand.

sammy looks up at her with a smile that looks like apple juice and missing teeth and boxes of flintstone bandaids that dean stole in hoodie pockets and pillow forts made on motel beds.

and she puts a hand through his hair and dean is fucking howling with rage, burning up from the inside out, fire tunneling up his spine.

mine. it's mine, he's mine. his childhood was mine, his skinned knees were mine, his sunburned cheeks were mine, his sleepless nights were mine. his fears are mine, his smiles are mine, his respect is mine.

and i'm his blanket, his calf to put cold feet under, the bed he would climb into after nightmares, the mouth that blew on his skinned palms, the bowl of warm soup when he was sick, the one screaming at his soccer games.

i'm his mom.

~~~

i can literally talk about this forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and [the limit does not exist]

it is no secret i love getting asks about these two losers

i'm sorry for the late response, work has been killer recently, but know that i opened our tumblr and lovingly stared at this ask! i hope you're doing well <3 i love when i see your name on our dash!

THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK <3333

-lizzy

[dreamwritesimagines]

Here I am, preparing myself for day 7 of Halloween and instead of thinking about today’s costume of choice, I give you entirely random filler HC:

Theo calls Sunshine for his nightly talk, and she’s like “bean, I’m sorry, I can’t stay on long, my phone is dying and the power went out.”

She’s been freaking because her battery is at like 20%, she walked in from work and it went dark in the middle of her shower, and to top it off, Julie borrowed her car and is out somewhere and Jamie and Nik are on vacation so she’s trying to get a hold of any of them just to be like “can I break into your house I’m freezing?”

Theo is bereft, his mother is going to freeze to death and here he is miles away from being able to cuddle her and keep each other warm; cue him RUNNING down every hall, finding Logan chilling doing whatever before he goes to hijack inspect Theo’s hall because he knows it’s about that time (that the love of his life calls her son and he gets to just hallucinate that he’s not an absolute coward who hasn’t asked her out yet). Theo comes in, full hysterics about “Mr. Logan, my mom doesn’t have power and she’s gonna have to hang up soon and then she’s gonna die alone in the cold.” While poor sunshine is having a fucking aneurysm on the other end.

“Bean, sweetie, it’s okay. No, don’t bother anyone I’m figuring it out, I will be fine, it’s not the first time I’ve had a power outage, please don’t tell-”

“Princess?”

“… oh. Oh hi, Logan.”

“Pack a bag, I’ll be there in 20.” And just hands the phone back to Theo, not an argument to be had as now he has to get his truck to rescue her because he’ll be fine on the bike, but she’ll just turn to a sunpop.

THIS IS SUCH A GOOD HC AAAAAAA IT'S AMAZIIIING! 😱❤️

Aw poor Sunshine, she would be trying to sound like everything is totally fine 🥺

Theo is bereft, his mother is going to freeze to death THEO SWEETHEART-

Logan chilling doing whatever before he goes to hijack inspect Theo’s hall because he knows it’s about that time (that the love of his life calls her son and he gets to just hallucinate that he’s not an absolute coward who hasn’t asked her out yet). Yet being the key word😏 He would definitely be like, "Yeah this is very similar to when we have a cabin in the woods with her and she's putting Theo to sleep" and like SIR YOU HAVEN'T ASKED HER OUT😂

And I cannot stop laughing at;

“Mr. Logan, my mom doesn’t have power and she’s gonna have to hang up soon and then she’s gonna die alone in the cold.”

Theo 🤝 Me

Our train of thoughts turning into a rollercoaster of paranoia when something goes slightly bad

I CAN JUST SEE SUNSHINE'S EXPRESSION ON THE OTHER LINE AS SHE HEARS THAT-

Logan to the rescue it's so romantiiiiic! ❤️

he’ll be fine on the bike, but she’ll just turn to a sunpop. Adsfghjkl😂

He will totally pick her up, and Sunshine would be like,

"You really didn't have to do this."

"Don't mention it."

"It's just that Nik and Jamie are on vacation, normally I would've stayed over at their place or Julie's but Julie is busy and- wait, where are we going?"

"To the institute."

"Is there an empty room there?"

"It's a huge mansion, I'm sure we can find one. Or you can stay in my room."

"...Huh?"

"While I-uh, while I'm staying somewhere else obviously."

"Oh. Oh right, yeah because I didn't assume- I wouldn't assume anything like that."

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon "Ghost" Riley Pt. 23

Word count: 2686

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, death, use of weapons, use of a knife, graphic depictions of violence, blood, military setting.

They keep him locked away in complete and utter darkness. Not a single sound penetrates the two-foot-thick cement walls. Anything he hears is a fabrication of his mind. An audio hallucination caused by the psychological effects of the deprivation of his senses. I’m sure that’s not the only thing he imagines as his chilled bones rattle against each other and his joints stiffen from the cold. So when Ghost cracks open the vault-like door and flicks on the lights, I don’t doubt my father thinks he’s seeing things. Maybe that I’m not real or that I’m visiting him from the dead or that I’ve come for revenge. All of these could be true.

The frigid air penetrates through my long sleeves. It’s just warm enough in here to avoid hypothermia. It’s like 141 is refrigerating him, preserving him until it’s time to transport him back to their main base. That’s where the real fun will begin. In theory, at least.

Ghost keeps his word and leaves the room only after sharing the smallest nod with me. He trusts me. It’s not his choice to make. It’s mine.

I think I subconsciously knew what had to happen long before I could admit such an idea to myself.

All I’ve ever wanted since this began was for the hurting to stop. Not just the pain inflicted on me, but on every soul involved. I hated the idea of people suffering because of me. Even if they hurt me and even if they hurt others; I didn’t see the point in furthering the cycle.

But that’s just it. It’s a cycle that won’t stop until someone interrupts it. 141 thinks that’s what they’re doing, but they’re just as much a part of it as the Ultranationalists. I’d never tell Ghost that, but I don’t see any other way you can put it.

They won’t accomplish anything by locking him away and torturing him for days on end until he gives them some outdated information on my uncle that’ll just send them on another goose chase. The only thing they’ll accomplish is causing more pain.

141’s solution isn’t permanent enough.

“Y/n? Darling?” My father’s voice is weak. “Is that really you?”

For a moment I think he might cry. He looks broken. Genuinely broken. He looks like I’ve felt ever since I found out about who he is. All this makes me wonder how much his reaction is genuine.

“Don’t call me that anymore,” I respond and it’s enough to tell him that, yes, it really is me. And no, I’m not here to help. I take a step away from the locked entrance into the claustrophobic room.

I wouldn’t doubt these rooms are designed to be small for psychological reasons. The base isn’t lacking space by any means. Some psychologists at some point determined that people are easier to break when they’re caged up like animals.

“Don’t act like that darling,” his tone remains on the verge of cracking. “Can we talk? I want to know you’re okay.”

He’s lying. Something about the squint around his eyes isn’t right. Or maybe I want him to be guilty. Maybe I just want to feel justified. What would Ghost think about his body language?

It looks like it takes a significant amount of effort for him to rise his head. The once gentle, yet strong man I knew has since withered. I want to pity him. Some part of me even wants to get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness. To cut him loose and let him take me back in time.

The stronger part of me won’t let that happen.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” I tell him. My voice doesn’t let on how nervous I am. The stress of the situation doesn’t seem to sink in. That’ll happen later.

“Look,” he admits. “I need your help. They’re going to kill me. Then you. We have to do something.”

Suddenly it’s we. Not me. Not I. Not your mother and I. No, she’s in New York. All he cares about is himself. I imagine Ghost standing beside me and striking him for lying. We.

“How many deaths are you responsible for?” I don’t bother entertaining his nuances. I feel uncharacteristically calm right now as I slowly approach him. My hands don’t shake or sweat. My mouth isn’t dry. My heart beats steadily. I am in complete control.

The switch blade weighs like iron in my back pocket.

“What are you talking about?” his mask starts to slip away. I need him to tell me. I can’t do this if he doesn’t admit guilt.

“The shootings: refugee centers, churches, homeless shelters. I saw videos, you know.”

“If you saw videos, what does my answer matter?”

“I want to hear you say it,” my voice is even. I almost sound unbothered by what I’m asking him to admit like I don’t care all that much. “Take ownership of your actions.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he tries to change the subject. For a moment I think he’s trying to make me feel stupid. Then I register something else in his voice. Something fearful and hesitant. What is he scared of? “This isn’t a mistake you want to make.”

“You’re ignoring me. Admit it. Admit what you did to those people. Admit what you did to me. To Mom,” The tips of my boots are just inches away from his chained feet. The air between us is charged with resentment.

“Look at what they’ve done to you, y/n,” maybe it wasn’t fear I sensed earlier. Maybe the emotion sneaking out of his chest was something entirely different. Because if I’m not mistaken now, he almost sounds disgusted. “You’re almost unrecognizable,” The flare of his nostrils confirms it. “Your mother would be so disappointed if she could see you right now.”

I feel a dull twisting sensation in my chest. Like his cold hands have wrapped around my lungs and squeezed them. Breathing feels impossible as the thick muscle twists between his bloody fingers.

My heart pumps faster and molten blood races to my neck and cheeks. My calm composure is slipping and fast.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” the words snag through bared teeth. How dare he try to guilt me. I haven’t done anything wrong. The only reason I’m here is because of him. It’s all because of him.

“Nothing about me’s changed, darling. Your mother’s always supported me. You would too if you knew where the world was heading.”

“I doubt that.”              

“You’re looking at it wrong, y/n. Not everything is about making the world better. But our job, our family, will make it more secure. Those people were a threat,” he says matter-of-factly. A threat to what, exactly? They were innocent. They were children.

“Don’t do that. Don’t act like you’re doing this for the greater good. There is no world where mass killings make things better,” I snarl.

“We work for what we want. We take things into our own hands. This little crew over here, 141,” he says with a measurable amount of distaste. “Is using you. Even now, y/n,” He says this like he knows. Like it’s the complete truth and to even think otherwise is utterly mad. “If you think you’re here on your own free will. You’re wrong.”

I blink. His absolute certainty is maddening. Never could I have imagined him to be so disconnected from reality. He truly is a stranger.

“I know why you’re really here, Little Bird, doing their dirty work like a good little whore,” he seethes. There’s a controlled sense of chaos to him that taunts me. I could pull the switchblade on him. I should. Just get it over with for god’s sake.

I close the minimal space between us. Only inches away yet the distance feels like miles.

“I’m not here on their business,” I say between my teeth. As I lean over him, it’s the first time in forever I feel like I am in control. “This all started because of you and I’ll be damn-“

Suddenly the tables turn swiftly and dangerously. He leaps from the chair and his hands are wrapped around my throat in a vice like grip before I can even process what’s just happened. My arms flail and it feels like slow motion as we fall through the air with him on top of me. How the hell did he get out of his restraints?

My head hits the cement hard and the sound of bone hitting rock echoes off the walls. Not just one, but two men are now strangling me and I struggle to make out which one is real.

“This is all your fault,” spit covers my face as he speaks. Redness runs up his throat to his cheeks as his eyes bulge from exertion. My hands desperately grasp at his arms to no avail. My ears ring as they search the floor for something, anything. Then I feel the tiny piece of metal, still in my back pocket.

Ghost’s training kicks in fast.

My brain barely regiseters the object in my hands as I thrust it toward him as quickly as possible while he’s still destracted. My vision is spotting as his grip seems to tighten even stronger. I repeat the desperate action several times more until the blade is lodged in his lower stomach and I finally manage to drag it across diagonally, completely bathing us in blood.

Only then, does he falter. The man’s hands reach for the wound as he crumples to the side and I take the chance to crawl towards the corner of the room furthest from him. I can’t feel anything but the hot, tacky substance that has fully saturated my clothes. My chest quickly rises and falls as my lungs fight to breathe, but for the life of me it doesn’t feel like any air is making it to them. Panic clouds my vision and my sight turns to static. Everything sounds distorted, like I’m underwater. For a moment I think that is exactly what happened and must be why I feel like I’m drowning.

Red emergency lights flash and an alarm blares in the background. In thirty seconds an armed team of 141’s soldiers will barge through the doors to address the security breach. When they see my father’s slumped body and the growing pool of blood around the bottom of his chair, they’ll look to Ghost for answers first, then they’ll look at me. There’s no hiding what I’ve done.

“Y/n, you’re hyperventilating,” his clear, calm voice breaks through the surface. My eyes flicker up to meet his and my whole attention focuses in on him. Simon. I don’t know where he came from or if he’s real, but right now he’s the only person that can save me. “Deep breaths sweetheart, we don’t have long before they’re here,” his gloved hands cup my bloodied cheeks. I almost don’t notice his skull mask. It’s not the scariest thing in the room anymore. I am.

I nod and Simon continues, “breathe with me y/n. Ready?” he searches my face before deeply breathing in, “and out,” he says through a deep exhale. “Keep breathing. You’re doing good, but I need you to listen very carefully about what is going to happen next,” I nod again and push through another wave of anxiety.

“A team of men is going to detain you and you’ll be brought to the med center. Once you’re cleared Price will have you locked in your room. You won’t get to see me again, but I’ll be watching, okay? You’ll stay there for a few days while the higher-ups have meetings, then eventually discharge you and put you under protective services,” Ghost’s thumb gently rubs back and forth, spreading blood across my cheek. I finally come to terms with what he’s saying. I won’t be able to see him again. They’ll have assumed he had something to do with this. Otherwise, how’d I get the knife? How’d I get through security? They’ll know it was him and they’ll punish him for it.

“But you-” My voice cracks.

“I’ll be alright y/n,” Simon is so calm that I can’t help but belive him.

I want to lean into his embrace, to feel his arms fully encompass my shaking frame and fully disappear into him. Does he mean it when he says I won’t get to see him again? My already clenched heart twists. How am I supposed to just accept that? There has to be something we can do.

I catch the silhouette of my father’s body from the corner of my eye and feel my breathing start to lose control again. I did that. I killed him. Even if it was technically self-defence, my intentions were already set upon deciding to visit him. He almost did me a favour by attacking me.

I’d be stupid to think Ghost and I could have a future after I’ve committed such a heinous crime.

In the distance I hear quickly approaching footsteps as a crew of men, armed and ready, sprint down the hall towards our direction.

“Simon, I-” my voice drifts off. There’s so much I need to tell him, but I’m at a loss. Under the mask, his eyes are calm. He knows. He always has.

“I know y/n,” his voice is low with remorse. The air is still. The alarm blares in the background and our faces are illuminated by the flashing red. My last ounce of hope is suspended by a delicate thread in the space between us. “Me too,” Simon’s brows furrow as he looks me over one sorrowful last time. His shoulders heave as he prepares himself for what he has to do next.

Ghost shifts back as he rises to his full height. The automatic riffle that is often clipped to his hip is taken into both hands and aimed directly at my heart.

“Simon?” my voice trembles. He isn’t there.

“Toss the weapon to the side and put your hands behind your back,” Ghost commands. He doesn’t have to yell or threaten me. I defeatedly do exactly as he says.

The sounds of the soldiers grow louder. Their feet loudly echo through the cement halls. The rattle of their equipment can be heard over the alarm as the leader of the crew yells something indiscernible.

Six more weapons are aimed at my chest as they storm the room. Five of the faceless, towering figures line the wall, completely surrounding me. The last one approaches my father, drops his weapon, removes his gloves, presses two fingers to my father’s carotid artery, and checks for a pulse. Thirty silent seconds pass, and nothing.

He is finally gone.

All their attention returns to me. Ghost remains in the background as one of the new soldiers approaches with a pair of cuffs dangling from his hands. He doesn’t say anything as he closes the gap. The metal is cold around my wrists as the cuffs tighten and click into place.

I fight every urge to look at Ghost. All I want is the comfort of his eyes, to know everything will be all right. I can’t risk it, my every action is being monitored. Even the wrong kind of eye contact can be incriminating. How badly will they punish him? My stomach twists at the thought.

The masked man yanks me to my feet. My knees almost buckle with the unexpected pressure. A wave of dizziness washes over me and I nearly fall. I barely have time to adjust before the familiar black cloth bag is tugged over my head.

Darkness.

I’m reminded of how I was brought to 141 in nearly the same state. It feels like so much has changed and yet nothing is different. My whole life was burned to the ground, yet for them, this is just another day. I am merely a small blip on their radar, almost small enough to disregard completely, but not quite.

I hope I never see them again.