#funny how life finds ways to mirror things in the worst ways possible

[robinsnest2111]

if I just had someone to hold me through all the bullshit emotions bombarding my brain right now I probably wouldn't have to suffer as much as I do right now. stupid...

[leaentries]

karma | quinn hughes

summary: sleeping with your best friend's boyfriend proves to bring major heartache, even if you broke things off. he was the man you weren't supposed to love, but karma has a funny way of working.

warnings: angsty themes, cheating, swearing, manipulation, gold-digging

wc: 2.4k+

a/n: surprise! here is my first quinn fic on a random thursday at 2:30am! I honestly didn't know where I was going with this when I started writing, but then I got carried away...

Karma. Was it real? Many people could beg to differ, however, in this moment… you felt the repercussions. 

The sound of your cries echoed throughout the empty bathroom. Thunderous cheers muffled their way through the cement walls. The cool tiles pressed into your exposed legs as you sat on the ground. Sobs wracked through your worn body. 

You asked for this, didn’t you? 

The words you said to him rang in your ears. Those cruel and unregarding words. Yet, he needed to hear them. 

❥.

“I want my life back, Quinn. My life before you.”

Your throat ached, your cheeks bright red with tears violently pouring down. Not that Quinn looked much better. This was the worst fight the two of you have ever had. All of the screaming, crying, cursing, it felt like it would never end. Although this was a long time coming, it still didn’t stop the bone-crushing pain that seeped its way into your heart. You knew you were gonna hurt him, but you also knew you had to. He was becoming too attached. 

You both agreed when you started this fling it was only temporary. C’mon, how could a true relationship form when he was dating your best friend? He promised he wouldn’t fall for you, regardless of how shitty Bethany treated him. That was your reasoning, the only thing you could use to push away the heaving guilt of sleeping with your best friend’s boyfriend. 

Still, karma always came around full circle.

And here it was, in the form of Quinn getting down on one knee in front of an arena full of people. The diamond glimmered in the bright lights, the flashes of cameras making it that much prettier. The look on his face was nothing short of love, but not for the girl in front of him, no, rather for the girl standing beside her. Bethany’s eyes filled with tears at the sudden proposal. Nodding her head “Yes” rapidly. 

You felt suffocated, needing nothing more than to leave. You turned, making your way through the dense crowd, finding the nearest private staff bathroom. 

❥.

This is where you remained until you were able to properly breathe again. In this moment, in this stupid bathroom, you found yourself praying the harsh words you told Quinn that night would become a reality. Alas, maybe sometimes karma isn’t always out to get you. 

A knock sounded from the other side of the steel door. Standing, you used the wall to maintain your balance. You walked over, to unlock the door, forgetting to check your disheveled form in the mirror. 

There was a sliver of hope that remained in your heart at the possibility of Quinn choosing you. You knew it was selfish, especially after you practically ripped his heart out when he told you he loved you. You gripped the handle, sucking in a quick breath. You opened the door slowly, only to be met with Bethany’s gleaming eyes. You looked down, shamefully filled with disappointment. 

Bethany slightly shoved you out of the way, barging into the single room. You paused a moment, taking a beat to compose yourself before facing your best friend.

Turning around, you saw Bethany fixing her chestnut hair in the warped mirror. She looked so happy. And you felt so guilty. 

Now even though Bethany wasn’t the most selfless person, or even the most caring, regardless you still felt the weight of what you and Quinn had hanging from your shoulders. She has been in your life since you moved to Vancouver 3 years ago. She was your very first friend and a betrayal like that was not easily forgiven. 

“Y/n, I cannot believe he proposed! I mean, I honestly thought he was gonna break up with me, you know? Remember how I was telling you how he started getting super distant and his responses were super short? I guess it was just his nerves. God! I’m so excited to plan the wedding!” Bethany blabbered on and on about her new wedding plans and how great being married to Quinn was gonna be. 

You tried to fake a smile, but the tears in your eyes were hard to ignore. Hell, even Bethany noticed. 

“Are you okay? You have mascara running down your face.” She approached you, getting a closer look at your blotched face. 

 Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You were positive she was gonna see the guilt and sadness etched deep in your eyes. 

“Awww, y/n/n! You’re crying out of happiness!” She brought you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around her loosely, troubled at her statement. Here, you were, clearly upset, and she couldn’t get over herself long enough to notice. That may be selfish and inconsiderate, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

Bethany quickly started up again, rambling on more. You stood, leaning against the wall barely paying attention to a single word that fell from her lips. That was until you heard her say, “I mean, shit, this relationship wasn’t even supposed to go this far.” 

Your head snapped up, looking at Bethany through the mirror. “What do you mean, “wasn’t supposed to go this far?” 

She turned towards you, “Back when we first started hanging out, you know, around the same time you moved here. Basically, Jacie had made a bet that I couldn’t bag a professional athlete. I told her to bite me and watch.” Anger flooded your veins, Quinn was just a bet to her? 

The man who kissed every inch of your body and ran his hands over each divot in your skin. The man who practically begged you to love him back. The man who you let get away, just to spare the feelings of your so-called “best friend.” 

“Originally it was just supposed to be a hit-and-run type of deal, but the poor dude latched on to me, and what can I say? I loved the attention. Now I’ll look even better with the Hughes’ name.” She finished with a satisfied smile. 

Fury coursed through your entire body, you saw red. “You’re fucking using him?” 

Bethany looked shocked at your tone. “I-I mean not, technically.”

“No. None of this technical bullshit, Bethany. Are you in love with him?” 

The conflict was reflected in her features, “Love is a strong word, but I definitely care for him.” 

You were in utter disbelief. To think you gave up the only man who you’ve ever truly loved to help the stranger standing in front of you. Your teeth ground together in anger. “Then why the fuck are you marrying him?” 

Now it was her turn to get angry, “Because he asked me, y/n. Why the hell do you even care? It’s not like you are the one getting engaged to him.” 

Even though she had no idea what went on between you and Quinn, her statement still felt like a deliberate punch to the gut. Yet, she was right. You weren’t the one he proposed to, you weren’t the one he chose. Except, you were.

❥.

“Please, y/n. Don’t lie to me. I know you love me too. You say the words and I’ll leave her. Just please, say something.” Quinn begged you. His chest heaving with panic and worry. He was scared to lose you. 

You knew you couldn’t bear to hurt Quinn, but Bethany was your best friend and you couldn’t hurt her either. That is the only reason the following words left your mouth, the words that made Quinn drop everything and leave you that instant, never looking back. 

“I’ve never loved you. I'm just sorry I let it go on for so long, I could have saved you some grief.” 

❥.

You hurt Quinn for her, and for that, she could never be forgiven. “Why do I care? Oh, I don’t know, probably because you’re about to marry someone you don’t even love, Bethany. I mean do you even have a fucking brain? Why the actual fuck would you ever hurt someone like that? What are you gonna do if Quinn finds out that you’re using him? I bet you don’t even care. God, you are such a selfish bitch. I can’t believe I hurt Quinn for you.” 

Bethany stood in silence for a moment, taking in everything you said to her. To your surprise, she didn’t yell back. Her voice remained stoic, “I figured. You just proved my theory. You know, it’s really rich. You standing there calling me a selfish bitch when you were the one sleeping with my boyfriend.” 

You immediately attempted to deny, not for your own sake, but Quinn’s. However, Bethany cut you off, “Shut your fucking mouth. I had suspicions you two were hooking up. I mean, c’mon no one becomes that close that quickly. And the way Quinn looked at you? I’m surprised he didn’t fuck you in the middle of the room to claim your ass. He never looked at me like that. So yeah, I said yes to his proposal because for once he chose me, not you, me.” 

She walked closer to you, her face remained still, voice stern, “But don’t worry, I’ll take care of him when he’s in my bed instead.” She flashed her ring at you, “Except, this isn’t temporary. It’s forever” She whispered the last part. 

Bethany took one last glimpse in the mirror before grabbing her bag and leaving the bathroom without sparing you another look. 

You slowly sink back down to the floor, a new round of sobs shaking your body. The feeling of finally losing Quinn was too much for your knees to hold up. You clawed at your chest, the undeniable pain making it hard to breathe. 

❥.

You eventually gathered yourself up and left the bathroom. Planning on making a b-line to the back door and straight to your car, you didn’t bother to fix the redness of your skin or the blatant mascara still running down your cheeks. 

Walking at a brisk pace, you weren’t completely paying attention to where you were going. You didn't think to look up until you were met with a solid body almost knocking you over with the collision.

There they were, those gorgeous eyes that brought you so much joy, yet so much heartache. The eyes that belong to the man you weren’t supposed to love. Quinn picked up on your distressed state instantly. He had always been able to read your cues. 

“What’s wrong, y/n?’ His voice was distant like he was trying not to get swept into you. Quinn knew the second he reopened that wound, there was no shutting it. That’s one of the reasons he decided to propose to Bethany. It was a feeble attempt to keep you out; To pretend you never existed. 

This proved to be harder than he thought. Everywhere Quinn went he saw you, saw things that reminded him of you. He knew it was wrong to be so consumed by you, but he couldn’t help it. 

Quinn snapped back into focus when you shook your head, trying to get out of his hands that rested on your arms. “I’m fine, Quinn.” You hesitated to say his name, which didn’t go unnoticed by him. He removed his hands with a slight wince, clearly still sore over your rejection. 

Yet, something came over him. He wanted the truth. If he was marrying Bethany, the least he deserves is some truth from you. Quinn grabbed your arm once more, leading you into a side room, quickly shutting and locking the door.

“What the hell?” You exclaimed, not happy with the current situation. “Let me out, Quinn.” 

He crossed his arms, blocking the door with his toned body. “Give me the truth, Y/n. Why are you crying?” Quinn would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping the reason was because of his engagement. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, Quinn still loved you. 

“It’s nothing, really,” Trying to come up with an excuse, you became desperate, “I am just super overwhelmed at work and it’s just taking a toll, I guess.” You were confident in your answer, it was simple enough and believable. There was no way he wouldn’t believe it. 

“You’re lying. You are on vacation right now. Y/n, I’m being serious. Tell. me. The. truth. I am so sick of all the lies and deceit. Give me something, please.” His begging only made your feelings worse. He didn’t know how badly you wanted to tell him you loved him. It would be so easy. 

Maybe that’s why you decided to throw out all logic and be selfish. You deserved to be selfish. “Fine, Quinn. You want the truth? I’m in love with you. I always have been. I lied to you that night, all those awful, fucked up things I said. They were all lies.” Saying it out loud brought a euphoric sense of relief. 

Quinn was rendered speechless. He was filled with anger, confusion, but most of all: love. The girl he loved most finally loved him back. He searched your face for any signs of uncertainty. Finding none, he stepped towards you.

“Say that again.” He demanded. 

You looked at him confused. “Wha-” He cut you off.

“Tell me you love me. Please, for the love of god, tell me you love me.” 

Mustering up more courage, you spoke more defined this time, “I am in love with you, Quinn Hughes. And there is nothing that could ever change that.” 

Quinn cupped your face, pulling your lips to meet his in a blaze. The anger, fear, and love were all present as you gripped onto his bicep. The kiss got heated quickly, Quinn backing you against the opposite wall. Your mouths met in a clash of teeth and tongue, desperate to feel each other again. When you eventually pulled away, you both took a moment, basking in the feeling of holding the other. The restless nights of longing were finally over. All the sneaking around and guilt was pushed aside. 

Quinn was the first to break the silence, “I’m gonna go end things with Bethany.” You met his eyes. He brought his hands back up, wiping away some of the stray makeup. “Even with runny mascara and messy hair, you’re beautiful.” 

For the first time that day, you truly smiled. The pain in your chest was gone, replaced with an undeniable warmth. As Quinn placed one last kiss on your lips and left to go end his engagement, you realized something.

Karma really does have a way of coming back full circle.

[shewhowas39]

fuck it. i'm doing it. starting a tarot deck prompt tag here. i'll always include a pick of the card and what deck i'm pulling from.

***

Title: "You've Got This" Card: Queen of Crosses Deck: Favole Tarot by Victoria Frances Ship: Karlach x Shadowheart Rating: Non-explicit Warnings: Mild sexual references, swearing, and some light Juniper & Starlight spoilers.

Summary: Karlach reminds herself that she's a sexy badass before making a move on the girl she likes.

Karlach glances around, ensuring that she's not being watched, before swiping the hand mirror from Astarion's pack.

She'd seen him using it before and been absolutely baffled - until she realized he mostly just stands around with it, huffing dramatically, until June comes over to tell him he's pretty. She's seen this happen more than once now, and it's hilarious every time.

Gods, she adores that pointy faced little man.

But he doesn't need the mirror right now and she does. She quickly runs back to her tent before stopping to check her reflection. She moves the mirror around so she can look at her face and neck from every angle. Are her horns looking shiny? Has she gotten all of the blood off from the fight earlier?

Or did the blood actually make her look better? Maybe she should go out and find some Absolute cultists to kill before she does this?

Karlach takes a deep breath, shaking off the string of nervous thoughts.

"You've got this, Karlach," she tells her reflection with the same determination and enthusiasm she would use to give her companions a pep talk. "You're good looking and funny and you kill things so good. You're a catch!"

In the nights since Dammon had fixed her engine, making it so she could actually touch people for the first time in a decade, she'd kissed countless Harpers and tiefling refugees in the tap room of the Last Light Inn. And she'd never felt a moment of insecurity. She knows how hot she is - ha! literally! - and worst case scenario, they'd turn her down and she would move on to someone else eager to get ot know Mama K.

This is different, though. This isn't just some random person she'll never see again. This is her friend. Her insightful, mysterious, sexy friend. She doesn't just want to kiss her at the bar or even carry her up the stairs to share a locked room and a night they'll never forget. Though that sounds really nice, too.

No. She wants to do this the right way. The Wyll Ravenguard way.

She can hear Wyll in her head already, cheering her on. Telling her to chase her heart's desires. She isn't nearly as romantic as him - and certainly not as chaste (at least, not by choice), but he has a few good ideas in that cute head of his.

Karlach knows now might be the worst possible time. They have this fucking Shadow Curse and Ketheric Thorm to deal with. But based on the way two beautiful green eyes have been looking at her these last few nights, she thinks this might be her shot.

And by the hells, she has waited too long for this sort of opportunity to miss it because of a stupid, evil, life stealing curse and a few hundred cultists.

"This is your shot," she tells her reflection again. "You'll regret it forever if you don't take it. And you're looking great tonight. Blood or lack of blood - doesn't matter. You're a babe." She winks at herself and then giggles at the absurdity of it.

Outside, she hears voices. She quickly stashes away the hand mirror, runs her hands over her clothes, and then pokes her head out of the tent flap. Shadowheart, Astarion, and June have come back down from the inn and seem to be finishing up some conversation.

"One of the Harpers says there's a Thorm family mausoleum around here. It might be a good place to gather some information," Shadowheart is saying.

"Oh, a crypt? Finally! It's been so long since you've dragged me to some disgusting, rat-infested hole in the ground," Astarion snarks. "I was starting to miss it."

June elbows him with a snort before nodding to Shadowheart. "Sounds like a good idea to me. We can talk it over with the others in the morning."

The three part ways as June and Astarion slip off toward the river and Shadowheart begins moving around camp, apparently gathering supplies for a bath.

Nope, nope, nope. Don't think about her int he bath, Karlach! She swallows. We're doing this the right way. The wyll Ravenguard way remember? And you're confident. You are so. fucking. confident.

With one last deep breath, Karlach climbs out of her tent, puts on her biggest, best - hopefully sexiest? - smile, and strides over to Shadowheart.

"Hey, you," she says. "Got a minute to talk?"

***

author's note: so this deck is a bit different. it leaves the reader to interpret what each of the suits corresponds to in a typical RWS deck. i, personally, read crosses as similar to wands. so that's what i used as my inspiration for this story.

[extemporeies]

(Inspired by normal people by Sally rooney)

"Do you think it would have been better if we were never together?"

Dazai asks in the middle of watching movie. We were dating a year back but dazai backed out and left me on the cold hard ground. We became friends after a lots of ups and down in our relationship. I feel clueless at this question.

I reply, "Where is this coming from? To be honest, I don't know. I can't imagine my life that way. You know,it's funny the decision you make when you like someone. Maybe for you I made a decision which I would have never made. So I don't know if you were a good or bad for me. But I don't regret any of our moments,"

He stays silent. I add, "you were a great influence to me overall, I think".He moves his eyes from the TV to me and gives a smile,"Oh,I'm glad to know."

Dazai speaks again,"you know when we went to that formal dance two days ago,I wanted you to kiss me." He fixes his eyes at me waiting for any kind of reaction. He says,"I still have feelings for you,you could say,I love you. I don't know how you'll take it." His chest inflates and deflates slowly.

I'm taken aback by his words. I did love him a lot in the past. Maybe I loved him the most in my life. But it's 'loved'. I would have love him that way even now if he hadn't broke up with me in the most possible curel way that time.

I breathe,avoid his eyes and say, "dazai, look, I don't know what's best for us. But I can't reciprocate your feelings. Obviously it's nice for me to hear you say this. But at the same time things have never ended well with us in the past. You know, you're my best friend, I would not want to lose that for any reason. I hope you get it"

He throws his head back feeling stupid and says in defeat "sure, I know what you mean."

I say,"I don't want you to think I'm not appreciative. I really like you...as a friend."

He nods, looking away from me back to the TV. He wants to turn over onto his side and face the window now so she couldn't look at him.

"You really have been so supportive of me,with the depression and everything, not to linger on that too much, but you really helped me a lot." I say as I look at my feet. 4 mins passed. "Dazai?"

Dazai says,"You don't owe me anything."

I say,"No, I know. I didn't mean that."

Since he turned his face away from me. I grow anxietic. I didn't want to hurt him or anything. My own heart is aching. I hate this situation. He stays silent and I can't see his face or his reaction.

I speak,"I'm getting anxious now. I hope you don't feel like I'm rejecting you."

He replies,"Don't be anxious. Everything's fine. I saw it coming actually. I might head home now, if that's okay."

I speak,"the movie hasn't finished yet-"

Dazai says,"Oh, I've already seen this movie"

"Well,then you should've told me,I would've played a different movie."

"You looked excited about this movie, I couldn't tell you to change it."

"Its obvious,I don't want you to leave so early."

"I don't find it obvious on what you want"

I feel extremely guilty. And follow him to the door as he walks out of the apartment. "Dazai," he looks back at me. I hug him tightly and I mutter "I'm so sorry."

He feels pleasurably crushed under the weight of her power over him, he feels a low gratifying ache inside his body, in his pelvic bone, in his back.

He pats my head and says,"I understand,it's not your fault". And he breaks the hug. "Bye, see you tomorrow" I say. He walks down to the street as he nods his head.

I'm in my apartment,left alone now. I looked at the mirror and see myself cry. I didn't want to break his heart like he broke mine last time. The worst part is I can't even figure it out if I love him that way or not. I lay in my bed,crying our of guilt and confusion, maybe regret?

[ashtraythief]

Hi. I’m dying. I had a dream last night where you posted the end of Underneath, which should be a good dream, right? Nope. My dream gave it the worst ending possible. Jensen cheated, of all things, with someone he knows in his real life, and someone sends pictures to Jared. In a shocking twist, Jensen comes clean about everything, the cheating but also being Jensen Ackles and Jared just forgives him. I remember being so confused in my dream that you would take the story in this direction. I didn’t think Jensen would ever cheat, but if he did, I can’t imagine Jared just forgiving him. He’d burn their house to the ground he’d be so mad. I wouldn’t want to be the man that cheats on him, that’s for sure, haha. I’m still so relieved it was a dream. I checked your a03 the second I woke up, really happy there was no chapters of Underneath posted, haha. First time that’s happened. Like lying about your identity because your an FBI officer is forgivable to me, and we support it because Jared is a mob boss after all, but cheating is just not, haha. My dream self fully believed and accepted that was the ending. But anyway, ok, I don’t say this to make you stress about the ending. Whatever it is, it’s going to be great because you wrote it. I just thought this was funny and totally bizarre, so I’m sharing lol. Have you ever had underneath related dreams?

Omg nonnie, now I'm dying 😅 I'm both flattered and horrified that you dreamed about underneath and your brain came up with that. Because you're right, Jensen would never cheat and Jared would never forgive that if he did lol. There'd be murder, definitely. (tho now I'm having dark thoughts about Jensen going home trying to find his equilibrium, getting drunk with Steve and Chris, and there's this guy he used to hook up with in college and it's just--easy and Jensen needs to feel in control, not like with Jared who takes him apart every time, where Jensen doesn't have any defenses but with this guy, Jensen doesn't feel like that and it's. yeah. A way to step back, to focus. Nevermind that after he feels hollow and even worse and he stumbles to the bathroom and throws up and he's not sure whether it's the booze or the guy he fucked, and well, after, he rinses his mouth and stares in the mirror and he just wants to turn back time only he doesn't know how far, only knows that this was. wrong. But. We're not thinking about that! Because Jensen would never.)

Anyways, hopefully, if we're lucky I'll be able to wrap up the Meet Cute prequel this month (prayer circle my beta has the time to clean up the very wonky next installment) and then maybe the Pied Piper prequel next month and I don't want to jinx it, but I have been working on a fun, porny J2 timestamp so there's hope for more fic this summer. And yeah, it's inconsequential stuff, but I swear they actively resist the End, so I have to approach it covertly lol.

Thanks for your message, nonnie ❤️

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

i don't think this needs a tw. maybe for talk of physical appearance if that would be triggering to anyone.

im sort of looking to vent but id like advice or resources if you have any to offer

after having my hair long I decided to cut it short. I've had short hair for most of my life before that so I wasn't afraid or anything. I had a specific style with pictures and specific instructions, but it was a bit of an unconventional hairstyle and the stylist modified it to make it much more conventional. now it looks strikingly like my hair did in some of the worst times of my life

looking in the mirror is genuinely triggering now. I feel absolutely awful all the time. I can barely stomach the thought of going places or seeing people, even people I love because I hate how I look so so much. funny enough, i felt that way about going places and seieng people in the dark times that this haircut reminds me of.

its too short for me to cut a different style unless I want to do a buzz cut which I really don't want. I'm allergic to lots of dyes and don't have the money to buy different brands of hairdye only to do a skin test and find out I'm allergic to all of them, and my hair is so dark that methods like using kool-aid wouldn't do anything. I can't afford a decent wig either. I don't own many hats and even if I did it's getting hotter where I live so it would be too hot to wear them anyway.

i feel obligated to pretend to like it because it does look good on me and I'm already tired of hearing "omg why don't you like it it's so cute!" I don't really have an excuse to not like it besides explaining that oh yeah, I have cptsd and this haircut is one of my biggest triggers but that isn't exactly something id like to share with most people.

on top of that, taking the time to take care of my appearance and taking pride in how I look is one of the main things that helped me get out of that dark place and is almost like self care for me, but now I can't so much as look in a mirror without wanting to cry.

before this my self esteem was higher than it'd ever been. it took one haircut to absolutely destroy that. I don't know what to do with myself

Hey there anon,

First, I am so sorry your stylist did that. As a cosmetologist myself, I'm actually appalled that they would make their own edits to a style you wanted just because they wanted it to be more conventional without asking you. You deserved better.

Honestly, I would try going to a different salon, and asking a stylist there for recommendations. Obviously, I can't tell exactly how short your cut is here, but I'm sure with a good stylist you can come to some sort of conclusion on how to help you.

In the meantime, I don't know how you tend to style it, but styling it differently may help as well (if possible) or even highlighting some of it with bleach. (As it's not a dye, you're far less likely to be allergic to it, though it can be rather harsh, so it may itch or burn if gotten/left on skin.) Hair chalk or similar may also be an option to add temporary colour without dye

It's okay to be triggered by this, and it's okay not to like the haircut despite it objectively looking good for your face shape. It wasn't what you wanted, wasn't what you asked for, and has had serious negative consequences on your mental health and self-esteem. You can definitely try some typical trigger coping methods such as grounding as well, reminding yourself that you have moved on from that period in time, taking inventory of your current self and surroundings, and reassuring yourself that your future doesn't have to be anything like your past.

I'm so sorry this happened to you nonny, and I hope that it can be righted soon.

Best Wishes

-Mod Night

[entrapdaknation]

Nguyen's narrative role in Area 88

In the Area 88 manga and OVA, the mercenaries stationed at Area 88 are a maladjusted lot. Some tried, and failed, to acclimate to civilian life after fighting in wars. Other mercenaries don't know how to be anything other than soldiers. Some are fleeing from tragic pasts and inner demons. Are all morally tainted by the killing they perform.

There's maladjusted, and then there's Nguyen.

Nguyen, born of a violent birth, surrounded by war for many years, now craves combat and bloodshed. While Shin struggles to hold onto his humanity, Nguyen has relinquished his humanity, giving in to his worst impulses. He relishes combat. He kills enemy pilots who have ejected from their aircraft, laughing at his carnage. He feels nothing when his allies perish. He taunts Shin about mercy-killing Jess at every opportunity. He is, in essence, a monster.

For years, I assumed that Nguyen was a warning about the danger of relinquishing one's humanity. Incorrectly, I believed that he was an example of what the pilots could become if they didn't cling to their empathy and ethics during war. Now, I realize that I was reading the character wrong. Nguyen is not a warning about what the mercenaries could become. He's a reminder of what they have become.

Nguyen's role in the narrative is to hold up a fun house mirror to the other pilots. He reminds the mercenaries of their own evil by showing it to them in an exaggerated manner. Like Nguyen, the other mercenaries find combat thrilling; they're just quieter about it. Like Nguyen, then enjoy killing; they just don't laugh manically while they do it. Like Nguyen, they subject enemy pilots to hideous, meaningless deaths; they just prefer to kill enemies while they're still inside their jets. Like Nguyen, too many of them have grown callous to the deaths of colleagues, enemies, or both. Can any of them judge Nguyen when they know, deep inside, that they're no different from him?

Nguyen strips away the pretenses of military life and reminds the other pilots (and the viewers) what being a combatant truly entails. It's gory. It's cruel. It's meaningless. It can be thrilling for victors in the worst possible ways, flooding them with adrenaline and dopamine while corroding their souls. Through his actions, he silences the mercenaries' excuses and shows them that yes, they're monsters too.

By performing this unsettling role in the narrative, Nguyen also reminds viewers that they have been sympathizing with monsters. Those characters who we, the viewers, were rooting for? The handsome ones, the charming ones, the funny ones, the ones dripping with pathos? They've done the same evil things Nguyen has, just more gracefully. If we despise Nguyen but give the other characters a free pass, are we ignoring their evil because they're just more likeable?

[marcusrobertobaq]

Which one? If 51 then not much but u can catch the idea from some:

Dude likes walking around the city, like, just for the sake of walking;

After the revolution he kinda develops an interest in collecting info about things he sees and hear. A knowledge seeker;

He likes spending some time alone with his thoughts, also observing the environment;

He feels the need of "doing the right thing" by trynna solve problems he think he can solve;

He always try helping his fellow androids and being an emotional support - it just happens without him even noticing;

I admit he may have overwork and suicidal tendencies;

He's becomes a dude of few but direct words, but he likes talking to people when it happens;

I like thinking he likes touching grass, trynna run away from too much noise when he needs - usually out of downtown area;

He really gets pissed and frustated when he can't do what he wants with way he wants, like, to the point of slamming a tables and walls really hard kinda shit;

Dude finds an abandoned dog on the streets, he just gets attached to the animal after the dog kept following him;

There ain't a specific place where Connor always stays, he usually stays with the androids and they're just everywhere across downtown depending on the ending;

He got a .40 he always walks with. U never know what could happen;

The more he tries being organized the more things can get messy and he dislikes it, but he knows how to improvise;

Depending on the ending Connor may be curious about what CyberLife and Kamski were actually planning;

As almost all android characters I apply the same rule: I hc him as pan. Not exactly seeking for stuff like it's extremely relevant but it can happen - and it would happen at the worst moment possible, I'll tell ya;

This guy can go from the chillest guy ever to the anxiety in person in less than a sec, u just need the right trigger;

He's also afraid of losing control over things due to emotions. He tries putting limits and thinking in a logical way everytime he can but sometimes there ain't nothing he can do;

Connor is just too sincere sometimes and quite sarcastic;

He tries lying to himself about some stuff and he's aware it's a lie but he can't help but fall into old habits sometimes;

Bro is a "lie of omission" kinda guy;

He becomes aware he got "dog syndrome" and how it can happen without him noticing but i think he sometimes just feel guilty about things - like he deserves some shit. But curiously he's the one to start stuff most of the time;

Connor is friendly... until he ain't anymore. After a moment in his life he just knows he ain't gotta tolerate bullshit at all;

Not a pacifist but not a monster either, he does what he think is necessary - even if he's wrong;

After some time he grew to really like the idea of being a sentient android but still aware of what it means for some humans. Even if he was just a tool he has been on "the other side of the coin", he was made to hunt his own kind for a corporation that lied to him;

Speaking of lies: everytime he thinks about how CyberLife lied to him when he thought he mattered he remembers of Daniel and how he was a bad example of how dangerous deviancy can be;

He likes looking in the mirror to check if he's "presentable" to whatever environment he'll be in. But he's overall pretty basic;

He thinks the fact his appearance was all made to be attractive and get him under radar a quite funny fact;

Connor like kids, even if he's kinda awkward sometimes not knowing how to deal with 100%. Dare touching a kid or his dog and he'll become John Wick;

These hcs are mostly for deviant Connor but i think some are independently of deviating or not. I could list more but ah i think u got an idea.

idk if I’ve done this before but what are y’all’s headcanons for connor?

[scuttling]

Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Hope

Ectoberhaunt 2022, Order, Day 17, ao3

“You know, if you stop worrying so much, you’ll relax enough for things to go just right. I hear that helps a lot of people through their performances, confidence.”

Danny looked away from the mirror where he was trying once more to tame his hair beyond cutting it. The undercut was nice and all but getting his bangs to cooperate for once in his life would be a miracle and he was truly hoping for one.

“Jazz, I’m not just performing at some show or fighting ghosts or whatever. What if he says no? What if this ruins everything?”

Jazz sighed and batted his hands away, comb in one hand as she took over attacking his hair, and Danny did not pout, because he had grown well beyond pouting.

“Danny, tell me what exactly you think the worst possible scenario here is.”

“Tucker could say no, and things get so awkward that he breaks up with me to avoid the discomfort of rejecting a proposal and then he moves away to become a tech billionaire all on his own, or ghosts attack us during the date and he’s so fed up with the ghost shit that he leaves, or Duul Amon repossesses him and decides that i’m too much of a peasant to marry and turns me down on principle of nobility or all three of those things at once and also aliens might hit us with an ftl osmium rod or twelve to wipe out humanity.”

Jazz didn’t say anything for a moment after he stopped, making sure that his hair was, at minimum, braided into a nice ponytail while his bangs were even successfully combed back. Once gel that he didn’t remember buying was applied, Jazz nodded once at her work before turning Danny around to face him. Her hands were pressed together and her expression was somewhere between ‘crazy runs in the family’ and ‘concerned amusement’.

Danny didn’t see what was so funny, they told the aliens where to find them and ending terrestrial life was far easier than movies made it seem.

“Danny, I love you so very much, which is why I’m going to be very honest with you. That’s all ridiculous and kind of rude to Tucker. Tucker has had a handle on Duul Amon for a while; aliens are unlikely to attack us; Valerie, Sam, and several allies of yours have collectively agreed to keep ghosts from being a problem - including The Fright Knight; you are the high king of all ghosts; and Tucker Foley has been your best friend since you were babies, gone through all this ghost shit since you were both 14 and has had you with him through his werewolf and pharoah nonsense basically the same amount of time, and you’ve been dating since you were in junior year of highschool. Tucker isn’t going to say no in the first place, and even if he did it would be because he’s not ready yet. You two are so ridiculously in love, Danny, let that love reassure you, not give you anxiety.”

Danny took a couple of deep breaths while Jazz spoke, breathing out the stress and breathing in Jazz’s inspirationally calm vibe. The stress looked a sickly blellow and he was glad to embrace lavaroon serenity, eyes flashing green for a moment.

“Thanks, Jazz. You know how to give a guy hope. Ok, yeah, tonight’s gonna go great! I’m gonna ask Tucker to marry me and he’s gonna say yes! Yeah, ok, let’s do this!”

Danny stood and hugged Jazz before spinning around and grabbing his bouquet on his way out of the house.

[futurebird]

This is very logical and funny. But, bigotry doesn't operate on logic. Drag queens already wear things that women wear without being called overly sexual. All that matters is that when they see a man in drag it gives them a bad feeling. It raises questions and trauma built deep into our culture, especially for cis men. Millions of cis men have been teased, verbally and even physically abused with the threat of being called out for performing their gender incorrectly. What are the meanest and worst insults for little boys? To be call "a girl." And though this creates a source of trauma and fear-- it also creates a sense of order in their world. Being a boy is better than being a girl. And the little boys deep inside these angry men can take some comfort in the fact that, for all their failings in life, at least they are not a sissy. When a man puts on a dress, has fun doing it, doesn't care that he's doing it "wrong" -- isn't scared --for these men their sense of order crumbles. This is why the same people keep saying that the mere existence of married gay people "ruins" their heterosexual marriages. A marriage, or being a man isn't just about loving another person and being with her. It's about a hierarchy that is comforting and familiar. "Father knows best." And when that hierarchy is strong and unquestioned these men can even enjoy drag (in a way.) Think about all of the silly little drag bits in cartoons, and older movies. "A man being like a woman! How silly! How droll!" But, in a world where it isn't silly for someone who was called a man to discover that they have always been a woman? For those people to take joy in that self-discovery implies that the hierarchy isn't real (it's never been real) drag isn't funny anymore for conservatives. It scares them. Fear isn't very logical. None of these things are logical. Happy gay couples don't destroy your heterosexual marriage unless your marriage only makes sense as a performance of hierarchy. Drag queens don't destroy your gender, unless your gender is deeply tied to ideas of social hierarchy. Trans people harm no one. But how could the hierarchy make any sense if it'd been possible to break free of that trauma of failing to perform gender correctly all along? If you have allowed your life to be shaped by these forces, accepted these forces for good and ill -- seeing they might be imaginary and not as important as you thought could make you feel foolish, small, too wrapped up in silly ideas about gender that don't mean very much... all to have a sense of identity. And I think that makes these people irrationally angry. They want their children to grow up with the same fears and trauma, because otherwise that means the trauma they lived had no purpose, it was just senseless violence. It's another case of the way that sometimes the victims of abuse can find themselves replicating the abuse on the next generation, because if they don't replicate it ... well then they would need to recognize it was abuse after all. But, victims of abuse have and often take other paths. They can become healers and protectors of young people from that same trauma. (Why is one of the worst, most painful memories from my childhood the time that another girl noticed that I have some hair on my upper lip and got a bunch of the class chanting "___'s got a mustache!" just thinking about it I can feel the hot tears, I can remember late nights pressed to the mirror with magnifying tweezers trying to find every hair so obsessively my leg would fall numb. It's even hard to admit that I sometimes have a few facial hairs even writing this now. I have the impulse to protect myself by pretending that my body is magically hairless. The shame is disproportionate, absurd. I'd never want a child to feel like that. I also suspect the feelings some men have about similar experiences with failing to be manly enough are even worse. Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?)

Drag queens who read stories to children should wear the exact same clothing as child beauty pageant contestants, just scaled up for their size.

Let's see the bigots try to claim that "this clothing sexualizes children" while being okay with a child wearing it.

[amatchinwater]

When Trust is Earned

Warnings: implied sexual content...well, Theo implies it

Ch 3/14 (Ch 2)

Required Reading (ao3)

---

Last night is a strong runner up for the worst night in his entire life. Stiles just killed someone. It was self defense, but still. How was anyone going to look at him ever again once they realize what he’s done? Donovan tried to kill him. A human against a wendigo isn’t exactly a fair fight. Swinging that wrench did a pretty good job, but Stiles just didn’t know what else he could do other than run. But then- but then the scaffolding. Climbing it was a bad idea in and of itself. Stiles could have fallen and died anyway. But somehow up seemed better than being near Donovan. Distance and all that. 

He pulled the pin. Stiles’ calculating mind knew that with how wobbly the wood and metal was that it would just take one single pin to bring the whole thing tumbling down. Did Stiles know that the metal in question would impale Donovan on the way down? Of course not. Stiles just needed to put some distance between them so he could get to his jeep and high tail it the fuck out of here. The pin had other plans. 

Why he actually called nine one one is a little debatable. The son of a cop knows it’s the right thing to do. The paranoid ball of anxiety made him hang up. Then Donovan just disappeared. No trace of ever being there and Stiles doesn't know if he should thank the heavens or panic further. Maybe a little bit of both. Because now he has this secret that’s eating away at him and can’t shake the feeling that he would become a pariah if he told anyone. 

So Stiles avoids the pack as much as possible. He doesn’t ignore them per say, more so just doesn’t put himself in the thick of it if he can help it. The human can only handle so much. Stiles wants to tell someone but he's so fucking scared it’s not even funny. Go to school, talk to his friends politely, and go the fuck home. That’s been Stiles’ routine and he’s sticking to it god dammit. That is until Theo texts him- he was right, Scott gave him the pack’s numbers but hasn’t actually let him in the pack- to meet him in the weight lifting room because he has a question for Stiles. 

He shouldn’t go. Going is a bad idea. Just because they cuddled doesn’t mean that Stiles isn’t trying his damndest to keep that wall intact. But, the only way to unravel whatever plan Theo has is to talk to him. So Stiles bites the bullet and finds himself walking in to the room to find Theo with no goddamn shirt on and grey fucking sweat pants. This is unfucking fair is what this is. Did the wolf really bring him here to show himself off? Yeah, the human caught you taking your jacket off. There’s no way his wolf hearing didn’t tell him Stiles was outside. 

Dick.

Not thinking about that. No sir. Stiles is not thinking about that at all! Nor is he thinking about the way that the wolf smelled so nice when he snuggled him to sleep and his arms felt- No! He’s so not going there either. Stiles is here for a reason! One that’s hard to remember because Theo just continues working out like he didn’t just walk into the room. He’s not staring. He isn’t! 

Stiles’ brain finally comes back online and away from the twitching, glistening muscles, “What’s your game?” Trying desperately to turn the detective switch on in his head. Is it wrong that he so desperately wants the wolf to prove him wrong at this point? Give him an excuse to accept Theo and stop fighting literally everything his body is telling him. It’s more than a little exhausting. He’s so tired of fighting. 

Theo walks to the mirror picking up some weights and who the fuck has that many muscles in their back? And his ass? Good lord, Stiles is so screwed. It takes a minute to realize that the wolf was actually answering his question. “-the pack. I think you can help me figure out how to earn Scott’s trust. You’re his best friend.” Seriously? Theo’s persistent, Stiles will give him that.

“It’s not Scott’s trust you need.” Theo raises a brow from him in the mirror before dropping the weights and actually facing Stiles. “It’s mine. So talk.” The human tries to come off as stern and put together but he’s a fucking mess. The abs on him look good enough to lick and suddenly his tongue is sliding across his lip- eyes directly on Theo’s torso- before he can stop it. 

Theo smirks and his chuckle makes Stiles’ eyes snap back to his blue ones. “We can talk if that’s what you really want.” He steps closer and the human backs up until he hits the wall. Oh shit. “If you want to do something else,” Theo pins him to the wall, pressing his entire body against Stiles’ and he can’t fucking think right now. His face is impossibly close, “then I’m okay with that, too.” Theo tucks his nose in Stiles’ neck and the human bites his lip in a groan.

A simple sentence and breath on his neck and Stiles can’t compose himself. It’s hot in here. Really fucking hot. Stiles can’t breathe. Thought processing is absolutely on the fritz. What the fuck is happening right now? All he knows is the hands encasing his head and the body against his feels too fucking good. How can something so new feel so right? New? Stiles can’t have something new, he’s with Malia. 

Malia! 

“No.” Stiles mumbles and somehow manages to push Theo off of him. Despite his werewolf strength, he listens and backs off. Stiles just needs a minute to think. He didn’t initiate that. Nothing even really happened. As long as Theo stays where he is, everything will be fine. Stiles pretends like every cell in his body isn’t screaming at him to pull the wolf back to where he was. His heart derailing his composure while his brain went out the window right about the second his back hit the wall. 

Putty. Theo turned him into putty. What the fuck?

A wall which he’s still plastered to when Theo chuckles and crosses his arms. “Your heartbeat and your scent says otherwise, Stiles.” The wolf has the fucking nerve to smirk and then wink. Are you fucking kidding me right now? Who even still winks at people? Assholes, that’s who. “You’re mine. You just have to realize that is all.” 

That’s a joke. Right? Theo didn’t seriously just say those words in that order to Stiles with confidence. The fucking nerve of him! Stiles puts his hands on his hips in defiance, sporting an exaggerated frown, he retorts, “I’m not yours, Theo.” 

Theo wolf’s smirk pulls a little wider, “Are you sure about that?” 

No. But he can’t afford that. Not right now at least. Maybe not ever, Stiles doesn’t exactly trust the werewolf right now. 

“Positive.” He can’t express how grateful he is that the word came out clearly.

“I bet I can prove you wrong.” 

Stiles has never been good about not having a filter or keeping his feet out his mouth. Or not antagonizing supernatural creatures. So it’s no surprise really that he snorts and says, “bullshit.” As if that wouldn’t literally sound like an invitation to prove him wrong. His brain, it’s just not here right now. 

The wolf’s smirk turns to a predatory grin and Stiles is pinned again. This time, Theo’s taken both of Stiles’ wrists and pinned them above his head. Theo tucks into his neck again. Stiles gasps as his nose glides across the skin, his breath tickling, “you’re enjoying this so much, I can smell it.” Blunt teeth nip at his skin and when Theo presses a kiss on his pulse, Stiles closes his eyes and outright moans. “Just look at yourself, Stiles.” 

Snapping his eyes open, Stiles sees himself on the wall of mirrors. His whiskey eyes are incredibly blown and glassy and there’s a flush to his cheeks. Why does he not hate himself for enjoying this? 

The hands around his wrists drop and grab his hips and Stiles can’t work his brain to tell him to stop it and his arms fall to Theo’s shoulders. The grip should be to push Theo away, but logic has staged a mutiny right along with reason, so all Stiles does is hold tight. Theo licks his neck and grinds his hips against the human’s and Stiles sighs, head falling back as he leans into the wolf’s touch and his legs fall open for Theo as if on instinct. “Something tells me, I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.”

He’s so fucking cocky! Stiles hates that shit. So why does it work for Theo? Worst of all, why is he fucking right? Granted, Stiles has only one other person to compare it to, but Malia never made him feel like this. Utterly breathless when there wasn’t even anything really happening. Willing to literally beg for more if that’s what the other boy wanted. Theo didn’t kiss him, didn’t touch anywhere special. He just was here. And now Stiles is a mess. Whatever hope he had of controlling his boner is useless. 

“Told you so, sweetheart.” Theo backs away to some machine Stiles doesn’t know the name of. He just- Stiles is- What the fuck?! Theo places both arms on either side of the machine and pulls them towards his chest, smirking when he looks at Stiles. “Did you still need something?”

The fucking nerve. Now that Theo isn’t in his space anymore Stiles’ brain remembers that he does in fact know how to speak. And think. But apparently not fully process information because Stiles is still stuck on the fact that he just moaned and it was genuine. Still thinking about the fact that they never even actually kissed and the other boy could get that kind of reaction sort of pisses Stiles off. Theo knows that Stiles has a girlfriend and he did it anyways. And now the asshole has the balls to be cockier than ever. 

Stiles is so done with this shit. He’s Theo’s. Not a question either, just a declaration. Fuck that and fuck him.

“Not from you.” Stiles peels himself off the wall and as he’s storming out of the weight room, he hears Theo chuckle. Stiles didn’t even want to punch the twins this badly and he threatened to shove mistletoe up their asses.

Happen to have seen any lost souls, Mr. Stilinski?

Valack’s words echo in Stiles’ head as he sits in Scott’s living room staring at the photocopies of the book the Doctor turned psych patient wrote about the Dread Doctors. You’re not about to catch him telling some asshat who drilled a hole in his own head that he saw Donovan. He didn’t want to tell the man the little information they did give him. Letting Lydia scream into that voice recorder was such a bad idea. He hasn’t the slightest clue what Valack intends to use it for, but it can’t be anything good. Of that much, he’s certain. 

Evidently bringing Kira was also a really stupid idea. Not even he considered the fact that Eichen might use electromagnetic security measures. Kira was lucky to have made it out, Scott included. Literal bolts of electricity could be seen along his best friend’s arms. It was kind of crazy to watch. 

But now that they’ve been told from Valack that the book is the only way to help them remember their time with the Dread Doctors- if they’ve had any- Stiles can’t keep his distance that much anymore. At least not currently. He’s in the Alpha’s living room with Kira, Lydia, and Malia waiting for Theo to show up. He’s really not ready to see the wolf just yet. Their last encounter is still burned in his brain. 

That’s not a sight that’s going away any time soon. Stiles even tried taking too much adderall last night so he wouldn’t fall asleep. No sleep means no chance of dreaming about that interaction. 

Honestly? 

He’s a fucking idiot. 

Even without taking his medication, Stiles can hyperfocus on things like no one else. On his medication? He’s even better. Taking too many pills? Good, god, Stiles really, really regrets doing that. Because he spent a good three hours waiting for them to wear off thinking about nothing but Theo and his stupid abs. The way his lips felt brushing against his neck. How the wolf looked in the mirror as he had Stiles pinned to the wall. No one but Stiles needs to know that he used the time to jerk off either. 

He’s taking that shit to the grave. 

A knock on the front door breaks the staring contest he’d been having with the printed copies of the Dread Doctors. His mug of coffee sloshes a little when he jolts. At least it didn’t spill and burn his fingers. Or his lap.

“It’s open,” Scott calls.

The door opens and closes and Stiles tries his best to not turn and look, though literally everyone else stands up to greet Theo for whatever reason. And he’ll look like a fucking knob if he just sits here and doesn’t get up too. Placing his coffee on the side table between the couch and armchair he’s occupied, Stiles stands, turning just in time to watch the wolf walk into the living room. 

Theo’s looking at no one but him, “hey, Stiles,” he grins when all the human does is offer a small wave. “Hey, guys.”

Stiles doesn’t want to think about the fact that the wolf addressed him before everyone else. Because if he does, then he’s forced to think about what exactly that little tidbit of information means. He wants to do that even less. Being forced to do anything usually never ends well. 

“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” Scotts tells him with a smile that shows no sign of him being bothered by Theo’s entrance. “Let’s get started,” the Alpha grabs a clipped stack and settles back on the couch by Kira who’s already sitting with her own copy. 

Lydia grabs the actual book. 

Fate or irony or whatever the fuck, really likes to toy with Stiles. There’s no doubt about it. Because when he goes to grab his own copy, so does the wolf. Theo’s hand brushes with his and the human’s arm stiffens. “Sorry,” he mumbles so no one looks at him weird for freezing like that and he sort of snatches the pages off the table, sliding back into the armchair with a huff. Tucking his legs under him, Stiles flips open to the first page. 

“Do you mind?” Theo gently asks, causing the human to look up. The wolf points at the armrest and Stiles’ eyes scan the room. With Malia sitting between Kira and Scott and Lydia on the other chair, there’s nowhere but the floor for Theo to sit. 

He’s half tempted to tell the wolf to sit at the dining room table, but he really doesn’t want to hear another lecture from Scott about trusting people. So instead, Stiles shrugs and says, “no, go ahead.” 

“Thanks,” Theo smiles at him, carefully sitting down on the armrest. 

Even though Stiles adjusts his position so that he’s no longer leaning towards that side of the chair, it makes no difference. All he’s thinking about is how close the wolf is. That even through the blue hoodie Theo’s wearing, the warmth from him when their arms inevitably touch- it’s not like the chair is massive- it radiates through every single one of Stiles’ cells. The human feels it everywhere, even where they’re not touching. Hell, it’s in his damn mind. 

He’s downed his entire coffee and hasn’t even made it through the first chapter yet. Stiles keeps getting distracted for obvious reasons. Like when Theo shifted a little in his spot and their arms rubbed with one another. And the wolf did it again and again until leaving it there, turning the accidental touch into an absolute purposeful one. Almost like he was trying to scent the human. 

After reading the same paragraph for- he’s lost count how many times now, Stiles flips the pages closed. Pinching his eyes shut, the human rubs them with his hand, standing up as cautiously as possible so he doesn’t knock into Theo. Grabbing his empty mug from the table, Stiles goes to the kitchen for more. Caffeine to hopefully keep him alert enough to chill the fuck out. Yeah, that’s a bit redundant, but it makes sense to Stiles and that’s what matters. 

Pulling the pot from the maker, Stiles sighs heavily seeing that it’s empty. Guess it’s his turn to make more. Tossing the used filter in the garbage, he gets another and fills it up. Hope everyone is cool with an extra strong brew, because that’s all Stiles makes. A good three scoops more than necessary. After putting the water in and hitting the button to start it, Stiles settles into the seat at the island, prepared to wait by himself until it’s ready. 

Not that anything Stiles prepares for ever works out the way he thinks it’s going to. 

“You okay?” Malia startles him.

Stiles tries to offer the best believable smile he can muster, “yeah, I’m good. Are you? I heard your memory was kind of intense. I’m sure having to see the crash again wasn’t the greatest.” 

“No,” the coyote pinches her mouth closed. “It wasn’t. But I’m fine.” 

The coffee machine beeps and Malia goes to grab it for him. “So what was it like?” Malia’s brows pinch together slightly at the question. “I mean was it like a dream, like just seeing a vision in your head? Or was it like you were back in it again? Like a full body experience?”

The coyote seems to contemplate his words, “in it,” she states. And she just relived the worst day of her life and is fine? That can’t be right. The bite on his shoulder starts to sting and itch a little, so Stiles rubs it, winching when all that does is irritate the wound and make his muscle ache. “What happened?” Malia gestures to where his hand is trying to soothe the spot. 

“Oh, uh,” his tongue darts across his lip. “Roscoe died on me again,” Stiles tells her, dropping his hand in hopes it’ll make her drop it too. “I didn’t secure the hood properly, so when I started to fuck around with the engine the damn thing fell on me. It’s just a scrape and a bruise, I’m fine.” 

The half truth is enough to appease the coyote, “okay.” 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I’ll meet you back in the living room.”

“Should I come with you?” Malia asks, “I’ll wait outside. It’s just if you read too much of the book, your memory could come back. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Stiles shakes his head,” I didn’t get very far into it yet.” The human smiles, “I’ll be down in a few minutes.” Grabbing his coffee, the human brings it back to the living room, setting it on the small table before heading for the stairs. Pointedly ignoring the way Theo watches him while he does it. Or at least he thinks he does, but he can feel the wolf’s blue eyes on him every step of the way. Closing the door behind him, Stiles slumps against the wood, propping a hand on the door knob to make sure he stays up as he lets out a resigned sigh. 

He’s just going to stay up here for a few minutes, compose himself and then go back down to finish the stupid book. Yeah, that’s a good idea. Flicking the light on, the human walks over to the sink, grasping the porcelain counter and hanging his head. He just needs to breathe for a minute. Maybe when he gets back downstairs he’ll sit at the dining room table. Or stay in the kitchen and claim to want to be closer to the coffee. 

Scott at the very least would buy that excuse. 

Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, Stiles is chastising himself for lying to Malia about how his shoulder got hurt. It's not like he wanted to lie to her, but Stiles didn't exactly trust her initially when she said she didn't kill Tracy. Turning the sink on, Stiles debates on just shoving his whole head under the water, drown out the events of these last few days and call it a fucking night. Over the running water, Stiles barely hears the door open and close while splashing some cold water on his face. He quickly shoves the hanging towel on his face to dry himself off, “Malia, really, I’m-” turning face to face with, “Theo.” 

"Hi," Theo smirks, with the same mischievous glint in his eye at the gym. 

He isn’t so sure that he can survive round two. “Was nearly sitting in my lap not enough for you?” Stiles deadpans, balling the towel up before tossing it on the counter. "Are you going to pin me to this wall now, too?"

“You’ve been gone for like a half hour, everyone fell asleep,” the wolf explains. He didn’t realize he’d been in here that long. Stiles' prior snark only seems to egg Theo on and his eyes darken, "I’ll pin you to the wall again if you want. Only if you ask really nicely, Kitten." 

Who the fuck does he think he is? 

Sarcasm and snark will be with him until the day he dies, clasping his hands together like a swooning school girl he speaks dramatically, "Oh, please, Sir. Won't you pin your damsel to the wall?" Stiles rolls his eyes and scoffs, "go fuck yoursel-" 

Theo growls, in fact slamming Stiles into the wall with glowing gold eyes. Stiles shouldn't like that. "I'd prefer Daddy," Theo smirks with a light hold on Stiles' throat. Stiles shouldn't like that either. "I'd also rather fuck you, but you won't let me." He definitely shouldn’t like that.

Let him? Does he just forget that Stiles isn’t single? “It’s called having a girlfriend, asshole,” the human grunts, trying to wriggle out of the wolf’s grasp. Not again, he can’t let Theo affect him like this. He doesn’t even budge, no matter how much the human squirms. 

Theo rolls his eyes and smirks, grinding his hips, “tell that to your dick.” The wolf palms him through his jeans for good measure, like Stiles couldn’t tell he was hard. He’s more than aware, hissing through the agonizingly good pressure. “I can smell and feel what I do to you. I’d fuck you right in front of her just to show them who you belong to. All you have to do is ask.” 

Stiles doesn’t get a chance to unpack any of that because the wolf just leaves. Honest to god backs away without so much as a word and re-closes the bathroom door behind him as though he’d never been there. “What the fuck just happened?” The human whispers to himself, once again stuck staring at his flustered reflection in the mirror. This is getting out of hand. Every time he’s alone with Theo, Stiles turns into a mess of a person. And harder than he knows what to deal with. 

Yeah, he’s leaving. Stiles bolts down the stairs, nearly stumbling in his haste, but waking nobody by some fucking luck. Even more so when Theo isn’t in the living room waiting for him. The human grabs the packet he was reading, taking it and leaving the house. He’ll read it at home and suffer the consequences if he gets his vision alone. Stiles will lock his fucking door to make sure he’s not in danger of doing something stupid. 

Much like he’s done several times the past few days.

Ch 4

[eartht137]

FOR THE BETTER

Hello and greetings to anyone that gets to read this. It is my first story. I wanted to try and see how this was received before continuing so please feel free to let me know how you like it. Please be easy on me it is my first one I am new to this, but I hope you like it. Its a bit slow right now but I swear the chapters will get going as we go along on this ride together. Okay *curvies* love ya! Enjoy!

Dark Clark Kent x (Black)!Plus Size Reader

SUMMARY: (I suck at them but here goes) After working miserable unfulfilling jobs, you decide to go back to school to pursue your dream in writing. You get the very handsome, very smart Mr. Kent as your English/Literature Professor. You've always stayed to yourself preferring to have your alone time and focus on your writing. Mr. Kent comes in to shake that way of thinking up and its all with your best interest at heart (well his best interest at heart){Cheesy, am I right?}

"For the weekend's assignment. Something very simple, almost high school level. Don't complicate it." Mr. Kent said dragging his feet to tell you all what the stupid assignment was.

"Get to the point." You thought out loud as you rested your head in your hand. He glared at you for moment before continuing. You felt your face flush, because-'no way he heard me' you thought.

"I want you all to write me a paper on...one thing you like about yourself and why." He rushed out. "I want you all to be as genuine as possible, if you're going to be journalists you have to capture your audience. If you can sell yourself, then you can sell a story. If you're a snooze fest......I honestly don't know what to tell you" He chuckled

Everyone groaned because why???

"Due next Monday on the dot. NO EXCEPTIONS!" He belted. "If you don't have your paper on Monday, you will stand up and give a 5 minute speech on said topic."

'What kind of teenage topic is this?' You thought.

"Don't give me lip guys, you signed up for this. I didn't make you do anything." He said pointing at all of you. "No complaining. Monday! Class dismissed." He announced causing everyone to scatter. You were just about out the door when he stopped you.

"Y/n, can you stay back for bit?"

"Yeah sure." You immediately got nervous. You weren't used to being singled out, you always managed to stay below the radar. You'd figured out ways to stay out of sight out of mind after always being criticized by your family, so getting asked to stay back wasn't a normal thing. You braced yourself for the "you can do better speech" and hoped it wouldn't take too long. You watched as the room emptied and he gathered his stuff.

"Come on, lets step into my office." He said leading the way with his hands full. "Have a seat." he said motioning to the chair in front of his desk. you sat feeling butterflies in the pit of your stomach. Literally everyone would've given anything to be where you were. Mr. Kent was almost mythical. You didn't know a day where you didn't think 'DAMN that man know he fine!' And you knew he knew it.

"Bet you think I'm gonna talk about your grades." he chuckled. "While I do require your improvement,"

'Require?' you thought hoping your face didn't covey your attitude.

"I wanted to talk about something else."

"O-kay?"

"I've notice, you're very um...to yourself, is everything-"

'Oh there it is.'

"Mr. Kent, please don't analyze me. I am a whole different breed of human. I don't do people."

"I'm sorry?" he asked tilting his head.

"I just value my alone time. You can't have that with people."

"You can still have space with other people in your life." he said shaking his head at you.

"I didn't say space, I said alone time, and that's not the same. That's still with people. Like, no." you said crossing you arms.

He stared at your for a second, the he began to laugh, and rub his eyes. "You really are something."

"Mm-hmm its true."

"I'm just saying its healthy to get out and socialize every once and awhile, not all the time, I mean-don't you get lonely sometimes?

"No, not really. I mean don't give me wrong I'm human. I get the urge to hang out, then I do, then I remember why I didn't want to do it in the first place." you said realizing you were almost ranting. He eyed you as if he didn't believe you.

"I tell you what, I know you say you're fine, but for my sanity, can we be friends? You know just someone to check on you, make sure you're okay? If-if you hate it by the end of the week then I'll let it go."

"Mr. Kent, no offense, but why do you care? I mean, you have your own life, I'm sure you got a nice family you should be there for, so like....I'm gonna need a it all to make sense."

"Its mean, don't get me wrong I enjoy solitude too, and its not because I don't like people," he chuckled, "but I know what its like to sometimes need someone I could just talk to when I really needed it most and not having it. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. Its funny because it would always lead me home."

"Well that's the difference between you and me, there is no going back." you sighed. You contemplated it 'It couldn't hurt could it?' "Okay."

"Okay?"

"We can be friends." you resigned.

"Great!" he said clapping his hands together.

"Only til the end of the week." You said standing stretching. "So we good? Can I go?"

"Actually, what are you doing tonight? I mean, my ma is cooking dinner and-"

"Okay anything food related, I'm down." You cut him off.

"Good, well I'll pick you up at 6?"

"Yeah sure." You said trying to get away.

"Uh, Y/n?"

"Yes?" You asked sweetly.

"I'm going to need your address." He said knowing you knew he needed it.

You gave you your information and booked it out of there. You immediately went home and took a nap. The whole ordeal was a bit draining for you.

It was your phones constant vibrating that woke you out of a deep sleep. You let it ring a few more times before picking it up.

"What?" You groaned into the phone.

"Y/n are ready? I'm like 15 minutes away." Mr. Kent asked.

"Ready for what?"

"Food?"

"Food? Food! Oh shit!" You said jumping up remembering dinner plans. "I'll be ready when you get here." You said quickly hanging up and rushing to get ready. By the time you felt you looked decent enough, he called and told he was there. When you walked out to meet him, you saw his girlfriend was with him and you put on a small smile. 'Of course he has a girlfriend, why wouldn't he. Still a bummer though, oh well.' you thought to yourself as you walked toward them.

"Y/n this is Lois, Lois this is Y/n. Lois is one of the top editors at the Daily Planet." He bragged, and you immediately got nervous. You'd read her work and you'd give to be as good, even better at writing.

"It really is nice to meet you, Clark speaks very highly of you and your writing." she said smiling.

"Really? I mean writing is my passion, I'm aspiring to get at least in the door. I'm not an editor or professor, but I think I'm okay." You said realizing you were babbling on because of your anxiety.

"Be confident in your work. It shows when you really mean what you're writing about. It also shows when you're doubting yourself." She said smiling at you. You immediately liked her and hoped to get to know her for advice sometime. You all got in and they fell into easy chatter along the way. Every now and again they'd touch on a topic you'd find interesting or be excited about, and you'd really get into it, smiling and being expressive. You'd catch Clark staring at you, a bit shocked at how much you had to say after months of being so quiet, and you'd retreat like a turtle back into your shell. You tried to not enjoy being around them, but every now and again, you liked talking to people on your level. Every now and again, you'd get lost in the breeze of the night air. You'd look out and get lost looking at the stars and the moon out of the open window of the moving car. You get so lost you forgot the other two people in the car and you'd miss the glances Clark took at you through the rearview mirror. When you all arrived at his moms farm you practically gawked at all the land around. You driven by open field and corn fields, you'd never actually gotten to see it up close.

As you all got out, his mom stepped out and waved at you.

"Well, looks like we got extra family tonight." she said smiling. You immediately felt a bit awkward. "Oh dear don't be shy, any friend of Clark is family." She said pulling you into a big hug.

"Thank you for having me Mrs. Kent." You said smiling.

"No go on now you just call me Martha." she said smiling and leading you inside. "You two come along, you know the routine." She said waving Lois and Clark inside. Dinner was great, you even found yourself laughing out loud. It exhilarated you and scared you to have such a good time around other people. You almost, ALMOST, didn't want the night to end, but you missed your bed. As if reading your mind, Clark announced it was time to leave.

"Looks like someone is ready for bed." He chuckled.

"Yep, I miss my solitude." You said stretching. Clark shook his head at you.

"What?" You asked innocently.

You said your final farewells and got in the car heading home. The ride home was peaceful, there was a calm silence between you three and you smiled watching the love exchanges between the two. You could see how much he loved her and you could understand why, Lois was beautiful woman. Your mind jumped from reasons you weren't in a relationship, to the assignment Clark had given you for the weekend. One thing you like about yourself? That topic was always hard for you and you couldn't even begin to find the words to start. Over the years you'd tried hard to accept yourself, love yourself, and be who you were unapologetically, but the moment you got to the threshold of truly giving yourself a chance, all of the criticism, judgment, and years of being invalidated filled you with fear and dread and you'd go back to your shell and do what you did best. Stay in your own bubble. Tears stung your eyes as you tried to stomp down the voices of doubt and resentment, 'It's okay, I'm good, I do what I have to and I'm happy with it. I'm at peace.' you thought to yourself over and over.

"You okay?" Clarks deep voice full of concerned pulled you from your thoughts and you shook you head to bring yourself back to reality.

"Yeah, just trying to stay awake." you said avoiding his gaze. The ride continued in silence and you couldn't help but drift off. One moment you were letting the ride soothe you to sleep and the next you heard a voice cooing you to sleep.

"Shh shh shh it's okay" Clark whispered. You couldn't help but cover your eyes. You were in Clark's arms as he carried you to the apartment.

"Woah," you said trying to get out of his arms. He gently placed you on your feet like a flower.

"Hey, its okay, calm down." He said gently rubbing your arms.

"S-sorry, I've just never-"

"Had anyone carry you before." He said finishing your sentence. You shifted feeling a bit awkward.

"Well, thanks for dinner. Thanks Lois!" You waved at her before going to your door. "Goodnight." you said one last time as you got inside. During the weekend you were extremely restless and was finding it hard to concentrate long enough to work on your assignment. Even when you sat waiting for words to form in your mind you eventually got busy doing something different. The night before class, you had an idea pop in your head, and you decided to go for it. You just hoped it would all make sense, it was the only think your mind focused on.

[mystic-sky]

You stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. You could barely hear yourself think. You’d been attempting to sober up for some odd 20 minutes, whilst the pumping music faded through the tiled walls.

You’d drank plenty of water, and finally felt everything coming back to you. Once the writing on the walls started making sense again, you exited the room. The music finally filtered clear and you walked outside. 

You ran a hand through your hair, seeing your friends dancing in the distance. You were having a lot of fun actually. The only thing that slowed you down was the urge to pee a while ago. And once you felt yourself stumbling towards the bathroom, you realized it was time to chill for a bit.

You walked through a sea of people towards the bar on the terrace again, feeling like a new woman. You ordered a non-alcoholic drink with a sprite substitute for your base, sitting on the stool closest to the end against the wall.

You threw your head back, taking the deepest breath and looking at the sky. 

“Whew...” You sighed. “I almost got shit faced again.”

You heard a laugh from two stools away. You snapped your head towards the only other person on the terrace bar with you. He’d surely been sitting there when you walked past just now. But you were in your own world, and you were thirsty so you hadn’t noticed him.

“Did you just laugh at me?” You quizzed at the white haired gentleman just a few feet from you. 

He turned towards you, giving you a toothy grin. “Yeah, cause it was funny.”

You stared at him, wondering why he had the blindfold on. It dawned upon you that he was probably blind, and you didn’t want to be rude.

“Yeah, I guess it was.” You giggled in the most non-confrontational way possible.

“Good for you, though. Knowing your limits.” He said, taking a sip of his own drink. “Ugh. Yo,  bar tender, could make this a little sweeter?”

You didn’t know many guys that liked their drinks brimming with sugar like that. Then it dawned upon you about how unconventional and unsafe it was for a blind man to be at a club. He could get roofied and kidnapped and he wouldn’t know a thing. You looked down at his legs. He doesn’t even have a cane.

“Are you here alone?” You asked, almost worried for the guy. 

“Are you?” He asked smugly. Was he... hitting on you?

You instinctively adjusted your bodycon dress. It barely covered your butt when you sat down like that, making you place your purse above your lap. But then you remembered, he’s blind.

“No. My friends and I planned this party.” You asked. “Who invited you?” 

“A friend of a friend who knew my friend’s cousin, who told my friend and I that we should definitely come to this party in Shibuya City.” He explained whilst shooting you another cheeky smile. 

“Uh huh...” you slurred. You plopped your head down on the table, staring at him while you leaned on your arm. He was kind of cute, for a blind guy, you thought. You felt a little insensitive for putting it that way in your head. He had this mysterious vibe about him. 

The bar tender set your syrupy drink beside you, but you just continued to look at him.

“I hope that’s just soda.” The white haired male quizzed, picking up a skewered piece of fruit from his drink as the bar tender placed his cup back beside him.

You rolled your eyes, “Yup, just sprite and high fructose corn syrup.” 

“You’re cute.” He said, chuckling deeply. You felt your face heating up. His voice was buttery smooth. You wanted to make more conversation with him but you just shyly sat up and hugged your straw with your mouth. 

Your eyes caught on his jawline. God damn, you thought. You felt like you could ogle as long as you wanted, what was he gonna do about it?

His face is pretty proportionate. He could model if he wanted. His legs looked long on the stool, and he had broad shoulders. He probably could model, you thought. He surely had the height for it.

It wasn’t til he turned towards you and stuck his tongue out that you jumped a little. Just as he was about to say something, you heard a cellphone notification sound, and you frantically reached towards your purse. 

“Ah, that’s me.” He said, fishing his phone out his pocket. You watched him unlock his phone, and send a text.

“Wait, you’re not blind?!” You said, somehow feeling a little violated. You were the one staring through his soul this entire time.

“Is that what you thought?” He chuckled. “I was just about to ask you if you were checking me out, or possibly still feeling tipsy.”

You were at lost for words, feeling stupid. It was normal for you to assume he couldn’t see.

“Who the hell wears a blindfold to a party?”

“Hmmmm, maybe the birthday person? If it’s a surprise party. And then there’s me. I do that.” He grins.

You have a mortified look on your face, earning another laugh from him.

“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re attractive too.” He cocked his head to the side, holding his cheek in his palm.

“Thank you...” You said, head feeling hotter than it did when you were drunk in the bathroom earlier.

“I was just about to leave too. I wasn’t having that good of a time. Not to sound rude though, you and your friends planned a good party. I just finished playing wingman earlier and I was bored as hell.”

“It’s okay.. I get it.” You said, sheepishly bringing your straw to your lips again.

“Was...” He spoke again. “I was bored. Til this sweet baby girl sat beside me. Now, I’m intrigued.”

“You’re the intriguing one. I can’t even see half of your face.” You blurted out through red cheeks. He talked with such finesse. You crossed you legs, and he bit his lip playfully at you. 

“Ahh, I suppose I could show you. You wanna see that bad?” He licked his lips, leaning forward a bit. Though there were two seats between you, you still pressed your back against the wall. 

You slowly swallowed. “I mean... I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Honey, it’s yes or no. Are you as curious about me as I am about you?”

You couldn’t lie. You knew he was attractive even with the blindfold. But the eyes are the window to the soul right? What kind of man were you sitting with right now?

“Let’s bargain a little, yeah? When was the last time you did something crazy, hmm?” He hummed.

You didn’t know, you were so concentrated on the idea of seeing his face. And he’s changing the subject, but he’s still looking right at you, putting you on the spot.

“Define crazy.” You said.

“Skinny dipping, going home with a stranger, robbing a convenience store, you know- crazy shit.”

You burst out laughing at how he smoothly threw that in there. He chuckled along with you. 

“It’s been a few hours.” You say, crossing your legs in the opposite direction. 

“I like that answer.” He says. “So, if I show you what’s under this blindfold of mine, would you consider coming home with me?”

You were crazy for even considering it when he casually mentioned it the first time. You had no idea who he was, and he could murder you as soon as you both left. 

But your gut hadn’t been doing it’s usual thing for the first time in a while. You were nervous, but not because you were scared. He was simply a smooth guy. 

“Alright. Let’s see that mug of yours.” You cross your arms.

He lets out a throaty laugh. “Okay, 

sweetheart.” 

He moves one stool closer towards you and leans on the counter. No one else but you could see his face from this angle. He slowly reached his finger up to pull down the fabric.

He definitely knew how to drag on the moment.

“Or better yet, let’s let the lady of the evening do it, shall we?” He said, bringing his large hands to cover yours. They were hot, and your heart was racing. He lifted both of your hands towards his face.

“Go on, sweets.” You nervously put your fingers  into the fabric, sliding it down over his nose and mouth.

****🌏👄🌏 〰️👄〰️ 🌊👄🌊****

You were star struck. The words were dry on your tongue. He was stupendously beautiful. So beautiful you thought it was unfair. His eyes coaxed you further towards him. You could somehow see everything in them, and nothing but blue at the same time. 

He brought you back to reality when he stuck his tongue out at you. 

“Like what you see?” 

“You’re... gorgeous..” You managed to say through blushing cheeks, sitting back up straight.

“Thank you~” 

“Alright. That’s enough for now. Don’t want you passing out on me.” He slid the blindfold back up, earning a slight dissatisfied whine from you. 

“So, are you down?” He asked, putting his face right back in his palm, grinning from ear to ear. He was honest, and normally you thought you’d be offended by someone blatantly asking you to sleep with them.

Your legs stood up, pulling down what you could of your black bodycon dress.

“You better show me a good time, or I’ll give you the worst review of your life.” You adjusted your purse strap on your shoulder, swaying your hips and offering him a playful smile. The alcohol that wasn’t digested yet gave you a boost of confidence, you passed some hair behind your ears, looking down at him.

“My sex speaks for itself.” He stood up, towering above you and putting out his arm for you to hold. You blushed before loosely wrapping your hand around it. It’s like he had a response for everything, you thought.

“Lucky for you I don’t live too far from here. So you’ll get everything you’re fantasizing about real soon.” He bent down, whispering to you.

How could he be so sure he was going to pleasure you? A stranger he was, he didn’t even know your name, nonetheless how and where you liked to be touched the most.

What a cocky little-

“By the way, my name is Gojo Satoru.” He lifted  his blindfold on one side and peered down at you. You’d heard of the name before, but it could be pure coincidence.

“(Name).” You looked away, blushing yet again under his gaze. 

“Cute as hell.” He bent down towards your face. “Why don’t we tell your friends that you’re leaving with me, hmmm?”

He walked through the bar with you on his arm, finding your friends. They were in awe at the snack you’d found, realizing who he was far before you did. They coaxed you to go for it. 

You turned on your location, and he assured them he’d bring you home. 

Then you were in his car, which was incredibly spick and span. You anxiously pressed your thighs together. It smelled of new car and pine scent. Such a guy thing, you thought.

“Are you nervous?” He asked. He turned on the radio, attempting to lighten the mood. 

“No, your car is just nice.” You pouted, looking out the tinted windows.

“I know right?” He grinned. “Man I love this song.”

Cocky was an understatement.

You realized that one of your favorite songs had been playing. You watched him confidently sing the lyrics.

“You don’t know it?” He asked, turning towards you.

“Of course I do. It’s my favorite.” You say proudly. 

“I knew there was something I liked about you.” He said, humming soon after.

“Ditto. You have decent music taste.” You said. 

You both vibed, and eventually he pulled into a parking garage of a fancy apartment building you surely knew you couldn’t afford to rent.

“You live here?” You asked, as he opened the door for you. He gently took hold of your hand before speaking.

“Yup. Feel free to come visit me whenever after tonight.”

“What makes you so sure I’ll be coming back?” You stood up, looking up at him as you pulled your dress down once more.

“You will. I just know.” He chuckled. 

“You get around a lot, don’t you Satoru?” You quiz, watching him close the car door and click the button on his keys. 

“Here and there. I work more than I’d like to.” He said motioning you to hook yourself onto his arm again.

You wanted to ask him more about his line of work, but he quickly spoke again.

“I just realized you called me by my first name. What a cutie~” He teased.

“What did you want me to call you?” You asked, heels clicking as you both walked towards the elevator. 

“If you were my lover, a plethora of things. For now, you can call me whatever you want.”

You poked your cheek with your tongue. “Then I choose your first name.”

“A classic.” He said, pressing the button on the top floor. 

“What do your other mistresses call you?” You peered up at him.

“Charming, sometimes cocky.” He looked down at you. This guy was something else.

“You know what I meant.” You said, gripping his arm a bit. 

“Lighten up, honey. It’s all about you right now.” 

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” You realized it wasn’t a tasteful question to ask in this moment, but you hoped to get some insight about him depending on his answer.

“Most definitely. My family expects me to have the strongest offspring.” He said, cocking his head back in frustration. 

“You don’t want to get married?” You ask.

“I do. But not for reasons like that.” He said, exiting the elevator with you. You caught on to what he meant. 

“So what would it take for you to fall in love?” 

“You make it sound like you want to be a contender.” He smugly smiled at you. 

“I get sappy when I’m tipsy.” You blurt out, ears hot and looking in the opposite direction.

He let out a hearty laugh. “As for your question, someone who understands me, which is kind of hard for most people. Oh, and a good sense of humor.”

You hummed, wondering if you fit the bill. You were just here for the sex, but his whole vibe piqued your interest. The blindfold, money, and the name you heard rumors about. He was handsome too, gracing you by allowing you to see his eyes. He seemed to have it all. And all this talk eluding to how he was about to rock your world made you a little nervous.

Could you deliver anything for him besides your body? 

You watched him fish out his keys and slide them into the door knob. A blast of cool air hit your skin and the scent of suede and leather furniture found your nose. You stepped inside, leaving your heels at the door. 

“What did you say you do for a living again?” You peered back at him, watching him hang his jacket and shutting the door.

“I’m an accountant.” He says slyly. You let out a laugh, and he knows you didn’t believe him, nor did he expect you to.

You left it at that, watching him approach the kitchen. He washes his hands, and motioned you to do the same. “Can I get you anything? I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

You shook your head. “You can cook?”

“In the midst of my survival, it became a necessity, alas’ I learned.” He said sarcastically, taking out two bottles of water. He set one in front of you anyway and took some gulps from his own.

“Couldn’t you have said ‘yes, my parents taught me’ like a normal person?” You said, sitting on the stool by the island.

“I could have. But I’m far from normal, if you couldn’t tell.” He pulled down his blind fold and set it on the island countertop, exposing his face again.

“Why do you wear it... if you don’t mind me asking...” 

“I’m sensitive to light. Sometimes I wear glasses. It’s a mood.” He was lying, and you knew. You didn’t actually expect him to tell you the truth. You weren’t particularly bothered either. There were plenty of things he didn’t know about you.

“Is there anything you want to ask me?” You say, tapping your fingers on the bottled water. 

He placed a hand on his chin. 

“Are you allergic to latex?” He leaned directly across from you.

“No...” You smirked. “That was thoughtful.”

“That’s just the kind of guy I am.” He chuckled lightly. He slid around the table, closer towards you.

“Mhmmm.” You say, looking up at him. It was hard to stay focused. Why did he have to be so good looking? You could see the skin of his chest through his white t-shirt when he leaned over you like that. You tugged at your bottom lip.

“Actually, there’s one other thing.” He was so close his hair nearly touched your forehead. You could smell faint remnants of fruity alcohol and mint. You never even saw him pop one into his mouth. 

And to guess what it could be, you had no clue. How could someone be so open but so hard to unveil at the same time? 

“And what might that be?” The response is barely audible, made for only him to hear it.

“What would it take for you to fall in love?” 

You were taken aback. All this time you honestly couldn’t tell how genuinely interested he was in you other than how you looked.

“You really wanna know?” You said, leaning towards him a little. His lashes were so long, he was so pretty he put your looks to shame- at least you felt that way.

“I asked you, didn’t I?” He said, cocking his to the side in the most kiddish, yet charming way ever.

“Someone who could make me feel safe. A good listener, a good communicator, and someone whose funny. And then I cross my fingers and hope for the sex to be good.”  You explain. He laughs a bit before speaking.

“And I just happen to be here right in front of you. Quite the coincidence, don’t you think?” He curls his lips into a sly smile.

“You’ve yet to show me a few things. The sex may or may not be a dealbreaker.” You roll your eyes. 

He brought a hand to your chin, touching noses with you now. “Alright, let me show you why I’m the best.”

He pulled your lips in for a soft kiss. His lips were smooth and slightly slick from whatever chapstick he was using. You had wanted him to kiss you so badly, growing anxious of the sexual tension between the conversations you were having. His teeth pulled against your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. The pressure from the suction sent messages to the nerves in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t often someone could give you pleasure in your core from a kiss.

You let out delicate whine, making him let go and press his forehead against yours. 

“How was that?” He asked. The tone behind it clearly displayed that he knew he had gotten to you but he had asked you anyway, just because.

“Terrible.” You say, adverting your gaze from his eyes and towards his rosy lips.

“Guess I have to try again.” He says, taking hold of your mouth with his once again. He’s closer to your body now, touching and swirling his fingers down your back. He sent chills down your spine, sucking and pulling firmly at your lips. 

His tongue fell into your mouth somehow, and you welcomed it. You found yourself trying to stick your tongue in his mouth, oddly invested in making him see you had been a decent kisser yourself. Your hands were living in his hair, around his neck. You weren’t shy to touch him at all. 

“Look whose all over me.”  He smirked.

“You’re supposed to be showing me something, right?” You tugged at his shirt, earning a laugh from him.

He dipped his head down towards your lips again, continuing his tongue work for you. He snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You slipped out the stool, on your top toes. Your chest pressing against his, you could feel his heart beat. You could smell his shampoo, his cologne. All of it filled your brain. Your body felt like some sort of electric current connecting with his as soon as skin touched skin. You draped your arms around his neck, realizing just how touch starved you actually were. 

He had been pumping life into you and sucking it out at the same time. His large hot hands began running up and down the exposed back skin of your dress. 

"Jump." He barely broke the kiss whilst ordering you.

You hopped best you could, and his hands found the back of your knees. You wrapped your legs around his torso before feeling large hot hands cup your ass cheeks. Your dress riding up this far was inevitable, but you couldn’t help but let out a small yelp when he clutched your butt like that. 

He pulled away from the kiss for a moment, “Are you gonna make cute sounds like that the whole time?” 

“Are you gonna keep making commentary about it?” You mulled.

He squeezed your butt again, this time smacking the left side. “Only if you want me to.”

“You’ve been making these cute little noises the whole night. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, it’s driving me nuts.” He adds, spinning you away from where you both had been standing. 

You couldn’t say anything, and with him being so close you could only pan your glance else where. 

“And blushing so hard just like that. It’s precious.” He cocked his head in the direction you looked away from him in.

“Can you go back to kissing me?” You requested, a feeble attempt to get him to stop talking about your flushed cheeks. 

“So cute.” He cooed.

“It’s actually more unfair how good looking you are, you know that?” You managed to say.

He stuck his tongue out, shooting a wink at you. 

You eagerly kissed him, taking his tongue into your mouth. He let out a low moan against your lips. You were suddenly eager to please him, you tightened you legs around him, grinding almost. You felt him walking through the condo space. His tongue took control again, swirling around yours. You were lost in his kiss when your back connected with cool fabric. He laid you down on the bed, your small body sinking into the fluff.

“I’m about to spoil you rotten.” He sat up above you, removing his shirt and tossing it to the floor. He was fitter than you expected. Pale skin with hues of pink here and there. You wondered what his skin routine was. Or maybe it was genetics? It was a bit nerve-racking. He seemed to be this perfect human being, physically speaking.

He lowered himself to your neck, putting his hot mouth against your skin. He sucked at the soft skin, nipping it with his teeth. He cupped one of your breasts, squeezing and massaging firmly. You were ecstatic he was finally touching you. As you rubbed your hand against his smooth chest his tongue found your sweet spot. You whined again, earning a hum from him.

You felt him drag his mouth down your neck resting sweet kisses between your mounds. 

“May I?” He asked, tugging the bottom of your dress. You nodded. You sat up, pulling the thing off yourself. 

“Getting impatient I see.” He said, passing his thumb over your chin.

“Hurry it up.” You roll your eyes again.

“Maybe I want our first time to be special.” He teased. 

“I didn’t pin you as the sentimental type.” You say.

“I’m a man of mysteries, but you know that already.” He said, pressing his lips to yours again. 

Your hands gently held the sides of his head, kissing him back. His hair was undeniably soft as silk. He broke away from your mouth, kissing your collarbone instead. His large hands took to your breasts again, exposing one of your nipples to the cool air. They were already hard and swelling to be touched.

He placed his wet mouth onto it, sucking and flicking his tongue against the thing. You were squirming beneath him. Aching to be stimulated else where, your underwear was damp from your core, pooling between your legs.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly while he sucked. Your placed your hands on the back of his head, almost patting him for doing so well. You whimpered softly, attempting to grind against him to give yourself some sort of stimulation down there. 

“I’ve got you, baby. You’ll get all of it. Be a good girl and hold out for me.” He said, looking up at you. You wish you could’ve watched the slick words fall from his lips, but you couldn’t see them under your breasts. 

You gave him a bashful nod. You were beginning to melt under his touch. You didn’t know what came over you, but you were ready to submit to him. Your needy and throbbing pussy was draining the bratty energy right out of you. He hadn’t done much, but you were ready to do whatever he asked of you.

You felt him unhook your bra whilst he sucked and massaged your mounds. The fabric slid off your body as he mumbled against your skin. “So sexy.” 

“You’re the sexy one.” You told him, knowingly feeding his ego.

“Thank you.” He said proudly, setting you down flat again. You watched him trail his lips down your stomach, leaving kisses in some places” He was feathering and brushing his lips on the skin more than actually kissing it, just to tease you.

He placed his fingers under the hem of your underwear, pulling them down and exposing your sweet sex. Your wetness dribbled onto the bed as he slid the fabric down your thighs and past your ankles.

“Are you this wet all the time?” You watched him cock an eyebrow through his bangs. You bit your lip. 

“You talk too much.” You turned your head. 

“You think so?” He said, spreading your legs and dipping his head towards your sex. He split your sticky, wet folds with two fingers, exposing your clit and pressing the flat of his tongue against it in an upward flick. 

“Mmm.. nnh...” You moan, showing him that you liked it. 

He hummed back at you before pressing a kiss to your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue over it. He pulled you down towards the edge of the bed, mouth still buried onto you. One arm wrapped around your body, hand cradling your rib cage. His other hand pinning one of your legs as far back as he thought you could manage. 

“Ahh... fuck.. ah...” You cursed. You wondered where he learned to eat pussy like that. You were trembling in his arms, raking your hands through his hair and undercut. 

He slipped a finger into you, curling against the roof of your sex, causing your spine to curl in response. You let out a cracked and broken moan, much to his liking.

He inserted another finger into you, allowing more slick to collect onto his hand and into the bed. He was so good, you sat up with the bit of strength you had just to watch him eat it. His deep, azure ocean eyes were resting on your frame the whole time, waiting for you to cum.

“Just like that...” Your eyes rolled back, you were reaching your end. You started clenching around his fingers and throbbing against his tongue. 

“G’head. Cum for me.” He parted his lips from your sex for only a second, flicking and sliding his fingers in and out of you.

Your body obeyed, releasing onto his hands and tongue. He kept at it, overstimulating you as he watched you ride out your orgasm.

When he finally ripped his fingers and tongue from you, you were a panting mess. 

“I’ve got a lot more for you.” You watched him lick the slick from his fingers. He towered above your body, tilting his to the side before speaking again.

“But do you need to rest?” He seemed genuinely concerned for your weak body. He almost thought he should’ve held back a little. Maybe just the tongue would’ve been fine, he thought.

“I’m fine.” You say, partially dazed. He’s definitely something else, you think.

“We can keep going.” You sit up, pushing him backwards. 

“Pants. Take them off.” You demand. 

“Anything you say.” He’s delighted, unbuckling and stripping the rest of his clothes for you. Your eyes twitch at his size. He was part animal without question- he had to be. You’d seen your share of sizes, but you couldn’t humble this guy even if you tried. 

“Are you kidding me,” you mutter. “Is there anything you don’t have?” 

“I hate to break it to you, but no.” He complacently smiled. You found yourself laughing a little before he spoke again.

“Actually, a wife and kids,” he said, turning towards one of his dressers, digging inside. 

“And frankly, I’d like to keep it that way.” He said, ripping the condom wrapper with his teeth. You watched him slide the rubber over and down his shaft. 

“That’s a little disappointing...” the words fell from your lips without you realizing. 

“Again, eventually. I’d like to start off with a girlfriend first, obviously.” His response triggered a mental face palm on your part, making you realize you’d said what you said out loud.

You felt like a teenage girl. Why did a little part of you decide he was husband material just from him eating you out? He’s still a stranger. A naked one, but a stranger. 

“You’re adorable.” He said, climbing above you. “You’ve got a crush on me now?” 

“Get to fucking.” You tugged at his ear, clearly agitated. He dipped his head towards your ear and whispered, 

“That’s okay. I’ve got a crush on you, too.”

The urge to cover your face in embarrassment was strong. He chuckled, “it definitely should be crime for anyone to be this precious.”

“You’re making my heart squeeze, looking all cute like that.” He took hold of his member in his hand, pressing and sliding it through your wet folds. 

“Alright, I’ve made you wait long enough.” He said, penetrating himself into you. Your hot sex slowly wrapped around his length, you wrapped your arms around him bracing yourself for the sharp pain that followed. You let out painful squeak.

“Oh shit- I’m so sorry sweetheart.” He shushed you. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks and neck. You were surprised at how tender he was  being. His delicate side was seeping out at the seams.

“I’m okay... Just give me a moment.” You say, your heart skipped a beat as you adjusted to his size. He caressed you ears and kept giving you soft kisses on your face and neck.

“If you keep that up I might fall in love with you.” You tease, but apart of you meant it.

“You might.” He said, earning yet another bashful look from you.

“You can move now.” You assured him, nuzzling more into the bed. He braced his hips back before pumping in again, and again, and again. 

He kept poking parts of your vaginal canal that you never even thought possible, like he was scratching this insatiable itch you had for years now. You never knew you could feel this full. 

His lips connected to the skin underneath your ear, sucking and kissing you gently as he thrusted into your hot sex. 

“..so... d-deep... it’s so... deep.” You stuttered through every jab at your core. The heat radiating off of your body felt hot enough to start a fire. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought you had a fever. You raked your fingers through the smooth of his undercut and combed through his hair as he fucked you.

“Why the fuck is it so wet?” He groaned into the crook of you neck. Your other arm wrapped around his back, trying so hard not to scratch his delicate skin. You didn’t want to hurt him, nonetheless you couldn’t tell if he’d be okay with it.

Your sweet moans filled the room, which took nicely to his ears. His hips bucked into you quicker, causing ripples of bliss throughout your body. Somehow, your toes were tingling, curling even, and you could feel pleasure in more places than just the center of your sex. You barely knew what to do with your hands, gripping the sheets and pillows around you. 

“You can pull my hair if you want,” he said, lifting himself from the warm space he created between your neck and shoulder. 

You gladly accepted, pulling some hair on the back of his head as he continued to thrust into you. You realized he sort of lead you on, giving you the match to start a fire in him. He shot you the most seductive blue glare as his head jerked back in delight. He bit his lip into a smile, thrusting faster into you.

Your moans went from sweet song to broken and incoherent mess. “T-That’s not f-fair.” 

“When did I ever say I was fair?” 

You felt like he was winning again somehow, not really registering when it became a competition. You wanted to fight back, pulling his hair again, exposing his neck to your mouth. You pressed your mouth to the skin, sucking and biting against it.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that, sweetie?”

He slipped both arms around your body pulling both your bodies up straight. He was still inside you, rocking your body onto his length. He brought his lips back to your neck, sucking and biting against it.

“Ahh...” you panted. “F-fuck, put me down!”

“You’re gonna cum just like this.” He said, bouncing your body up and down his shaft. You didn’t think he could go any deeper, but gravity brought you down onto his length, forcing heavy moans from your lips.

You were lost in his sex, finding yourself bucking your hips back onto his length and grinding forward against him. 

“What a sweet girl, you like that, right? Of course you do.”

You felt yourself reaching another orgasm, and your grinding became erratic against him. 

“Yeah that’s right, grind on it baby.”

You released yourself onto him, leaning forward over his shoulders, panting heavily. 

You were surprised when he laid you back down for a moment, watching him pin both your legs back and over his shoulders. 

“Let’s see if you can take it like this.”

He pumped himself into yet again, earning a ragged moan from your frail self. You could feel him so deep in your guts, you were getting light headed from the overwhelming pleasure. You braced yourself for each thrust as he pounded into you. You juices were splashing with every plunge he made. He sat up, before speaking.

“Hold the back of your legs for me, baby.” He said, watching himself pump into your sopping cunt.

“Such a pretty pussy.” If there was anything Satoru adored most, it had to be watching his partner from an angle like that. He took his thumb and held it to your mouth.

“Suck,” he pressed it to your lips; waiting for you to open your mouth while he fucked you. You let him put his thumb in your mouth while he held your jaw with his large hand. You swirled your tongue around it before he pulled it away and mouthed a ‘thank you’ at you. He placed the slick thumb against your clit for you and rubbed in circles while he pumped. 

You squealed in delight, finding yourself starting to beg him to make you cum again.

“I will honey,” he grinned, “I will.”

Your arms and legs were weak from being pinned back, falling to his sides. You had just enough strength to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you again, connecting his mouth with yours. You begged for his tongue, moaning against his lips. 

“Fuck..” he mumbled into your mouth. You clenched yourself around him. He could feel himself nearing his orgasm but he had promised to spoil you first. It was getting harder for him to fight back the urge to release. 

Your clit was throbbing, and you were dribbling a bit at the mouth. He pulled your bottom lip into his, sucking hard. You couldn’t hold it any longer. 

“You’re cumming again, aren’t you? Moan my name for me, pretty please?”

The pace of his thrusts didn’t falter, giving you the final orgasm you so desperately deserved. You screamed his name, voice cracking whilst he battered your pussy.

Your voice was hoarse, riding your orgasm out as he approached his. It was enough to send him over the edge, satiating his ego and so much more. You’re throbbing erratically, and all he could feel was his cock being gulped swallowed by you. He shuddered against your lips, releasing himself into the rubber he wore inside you. 

He collapsed beside you. Your brain was cloudy from pleasure. You watched his chest rise and fall as he peered and panted back at you, holding his member in his hand. He slid the condom off and tossed it to the floor.

You were alarmed he was still hard. You could barely move, hips gyrating and insides throbbing a muck. Trying your best to gather your thoughts, you turned your body towards him. 

“Will I be getting my review now or later?” He snickered, damp bangs sticking to his forehead. You took hold of the nearest pillow, and slammed it onto his face. 

“Later I presume?” He laughs. “I’ll give you time to think it over.”

You would be thinking about it for while. It wasn’t often you’d meet someone who delivered on everything they said they’d do. It was uncanny how perfect he was. Could you fall for him because of it? Or should you keep your qualms to yourself and try to forget everything about tonight? And now that you remembered, he told you he had a crush on you, or was he egging you on in the spur of the moment?

“Do you want a t-shirt?” He asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. He had already managed to get some underwear on while you laid there lost in thought.

“A t-shirt?” You say, puzzled. Your arms go to cover your bare chest as you sit up, hair completely messy. 

“I’m kind of tired. I thought I could drive you home in the morning instead.” He yawned, pulling on some sweat pants. 

“You’re not kicking me out?” You say, catching the shirt he tossed you as he tied the strings to his pants. 

“Just what do you take me for?” He said, cocking his head to the side. You were starting to wonder if his neck hurt. You watched him bend down and pull out what seemed like a hot towel from an incubator and hand it to you. 

“I can wipe you up if you’d like. Front to back!”

“I’ve got it.” You say nervously, wiping the insides of your damp thighs. 

You slid the gray t-shirt over your head, “And I dunno, I just thought this is where the night would end for me.”

“Sweetie, I literally just told you that I like you. Did you forget?”

“Y-You were serious?” You stutter. 

“Did you not want me to be?” He casually walks towards a mini fridge sitting in the corner. He pulled out two more bottles of water and handed one to you whilst drinking his own.

“It’s not that at all, it’s just we hardly know each other and-

“So you do like me?” He quizzed.

“I mean I wouldn’t say that I don’t but-

“So we can work out the details later.” He grinned. 

You facepalmed. He looked down at you as you sat there on the edge of the bed before letting out a sigh.

“Why don’t you drink some water and then we can get ready for bed? Unless you really want to go home. I’ll drive you. Tell me what you want, it’s no problem at all.”  He kneeled in front of you, showing you that he did have compassionate side. 

You couldn’t lie, you did want to lay in bed with him. It wasn’t a matter of trust anymore. You felt confident that he wouldn’t hurt you. You were more concerned that he decided he liked you on the spot like that. Actually, you were more concerned that you decided you liked him on the spot like that.

“I’m staying. I’m tired too.” You smiled. “I wasn’t trying to fuss. I do like you a lot.” A little more than you should, but you decided to leave that part out. 

“Then that settles it.” He smiles back, holding your chin. “Now, it’s important to stay hydrated! Especially after a work out!” 

He held the water up to your mouth.

“I can do it myself.” You say, grabbing the water out of his hands, taking a few swigs. He holds up his hands in defense.

“Well, the bathroom is down the hall to the left. You can also use my personal bathroom, which is through that door right there. I also have spare tooth brushes too!” He assured you.

“So you do do this often. Hmph.” You say, laying back on the bed. 

“Girls have it rough. I try my best to have the necessities.” He shrugged, laying beside you. Your eyes drag down towards his bare chest skin before looking right back up towards his eyes.

“I can also go sleep in the other room if you need more security.” He suggests.

“I was looking forward to sleeping with you in here.” You say quietly.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

You glared at him, acknowledging that you know that he heard you and you wouldn’t repeat yourself. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” He laughed. He tucked himself underneath the covers before lifting the other side and patting the empty space for you. 

You crawled up and slid underneath the cool fabric. He reached over your body to turn the lights off. 

He snuggled himself down to your height and you could still faintly see his face.

“Comfy?” You nodded shyly. His bed was undeniably firm yet fluffy. 

“Good.” He smiled.

He’d been so kind yet so arrogant at the same time. Just how were you going to figure him out? He said there was time to work out the details, but your head still spun a thousand miles a minute. For someone who had it all, and clearly many secrets, he was seemingly cheery. You had no idea what bothered this guy. But he’d taken a liking to you somehow. And you couldn’t stop blushing at the fact that he literally just fucked you senseless and now he’s smiling at you in his bed like nothing happened. 

You inhaled and exhaled deeply, earning a confused look from him.

“10/10 oral experience. 10/10 sexual experience. 10/10 aftercare experience. 8.5/10 for not giving me pants. Overall rating is 9.6/10. Would come again.” 

“You could’ve asked for pants,” He smirked getting up. You tugged his arm, shaking your head.

“You’re gonna let all the heat out. Stay.” 

“But my score? I deserve a 10/10.” He argued playfully. 

You wrapped your arm around him, pulling him back down underneath the blanket with you.

“Here’s your extra credit. Cuddle with me until the morning. It might change your grade.

Results may vary.”

He laughed lightly, wrapping his arms around your body. 

“About that ‘would come again’ part. When will that be?” He said, looking down at you. 

“Soon.” You said, burying your head into his chest.

Part 2

[supercorpkid]

Extraneous Variable 3

Error: n3

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader, Kelly Olsen x Niece!Reader

Word Count: 3120.

“What the actual fuck!”

“LANGUAGE!” Kara scolds Alex, pointing at you. “My kid is here!”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but WE ARE KIDS TOO!” Alex runs to the front of the mirror, and you get out of her way. “This can’t be true! I’m gonna kill Brainy!”

She marches to the door looking like she will absolutely kill him. You wonder if you should do something, but Brainy can protect himself, besides you’re not a superhero anymore. You look at your moms. Kara and Lena are staring at each other, so shocked, nothing leaves their mouths.

“Moms?”

Kara seems to be the first one to come down from her shock. “I’m you! I’m about your age!”

“Yep! We’re one in the same.” You agree with a big smile. Alex is close by, yelling at Brainy to reverse this mess. You try to ignore her.

“That’s so cool!” Kara holds Lena’s hand, who still hasn’t said a word. “Love, I’ve always wanted to know you as a teen. Hey, now we can say that we have! And, YAY, I’m going to kiss you as a teen.” Kara’s face goes towards Lena’s, who sleekly moves away. “Lena!”

“Nope.” Your mom finally lets out. “You’re her. I’m not doing that, it’s weird.” She points at both of you and sits on the chair that is closest by. Her hands cover her face, and she lets out an exasperated sigh. “I told you not to mess with alien tech. Look what you've done.”

“I didn’t do this! It was Brainy.” You defend yourself, pointing at him instead.

“In my defense, I’m just trying to undo the mess you made.” He also ignores Alex for the sake of defending himself.

“Well, you’ve made more messes than I have now.”

“Only if we look at this numerically.”

“How else would we look at it?”

“You star-”

“STOP IT!” Lena yells, making everyone in the room flinch at the sound of her teen voice coming out so loud. “Both of you, stop it! I have a damn company to run and how the hell am I supposed to do that looking like a teenage girl?”

Kara opens her mouth, but before she has a chance to speak, Lena snaps at her again.

“Kara, I swear to GOD if you say ‘language’ right now, I’m going to curse in five different languages!”

“Someone’s a moody teenager.” Alex mutters and you hold your laugh, biting your lip, knowing damn well not to add into Lena’s moodiness.

“I think I can-” Brainy starts.

“NO!” Alex slaps his hand away from the piece of tech. “Do not touch that again.”

“But-” He tries.

“NO!” Kara yells protecting the tech with her own body. “I’m scared you might turn someone into a zombie next and they’ll come for me.”

“In that case, you don’t have to worry. Zombies eat brains, so you’re safe.” Alex looks at Kara and you look to the other side trying to hide your laughter again. Aunt Alex as a teen is way too funny.

“Hey!” Kara interjects.

“I just have to-” Brainy starts again.

“NO!” It’s Lena who says it this time. “You heard them! Step away from the alien tech. Actually, can we all get out of here and leave it for the kid to figure this out?”

“You know, you can’t call me ‘kid’ anymore. I think I’m actually older than you are, right now.”

“And I am actually still your mother, so you better find a way to reverse this, or you will be in deep-deep trouble, young lady.” Lena says and you drop your head low. Why is she still so scary even looking younger than you?

“But if the 12th-level intellect can’t find the solution, what chance do I have?”

“Well, you have the motivation.” Lena smiles at you, blinking her big green eyes at you. “Find the solution, don’t get grounded for messing with alien tech when I specifically told you not to.”

“Touché.”

“But how is this even possible?” Kara says, counting something on her fingers. She looks around confused. “We’re not all the same age, yet-”

“I have neither the time, nor the crayons to explain this to you.” Alex says and this time you can’t hold your laugh anymore. You wheeze out a laughter and Kara furrows her brows at you in response.

“You don’t know, do you?” She asks Alex, who denies with her head.

“No idea.”

“Ok, that’s it. Everyone out of this lab. Let’s all wait upstairs.” Lena points outside and you watch Brainy, Alex and Kara leaving with their heads hanging low.

“But I need help.” You mumble, but are left unanswered. You don’t know if they didn’t hear you or are just choosing to ignore you for the sake of Lena not yelling at them.

“So, we’re not gonna kiss?” It’s the last thing you hear before the door closes behind them.

“KARA!” Actually, that’s the last thing before you find yourself all alone in your lab with the alien tech in front of you.

It’s not that you’re scared of it, but yeah, being a baby and then a boy wasn’t the best experience in your life. Now your moms and aunt are teens. One is moody, the other is a sarcastic queen, and the other one is… Just… Kara.

You: Need help. Brainy turned our moms into teenagers.

Jamie: WHAT! OUR moms? This is gold!

You: Yeah, well, Lena is still scary as a teen, so I need a solution ASAP. Help. Please?

Jamie: Don’t know how I can help, but yeah. Sure. On my way now.

Jamie shows up some time later. You try to fill her in on what’s going on. She can’t stop laughing. Seriously. She can’t be stopped.

“I’m serious!” You roll your eyes at her reaction. “This is bad! Really bad.”

“I know. I wish we had popcorn.” She jokes, grabbing her phone in her pocket and going to the lab door. “Come on, I gotta see this with my own eyes.”

“Jamie.” You try. She ignores you, still going to the elevator.

“You said they’re at Lena’s office, right?” She’s already inside the elevator when you decide to follow her. She smiles satisfied when she sees you. “Relax.” She says pushing the button for Lena’s floor. “We’ll say we need to assess the situation, or like, whatever.”

“Fine. Just be aware, your mom is a savage.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it. I’m going to film the whole thing. Whenever I say something she doesn’t like, I’ll use this video as proof I’m not as bad as she was.”

You two sneak into the top floor, but there’s no need. Your mom’s assistant was sent home. Lena probably didn’t want to explain how she was turned back into a teenager. You open a little crack on the door and Jamie sneaks in her phone so she can film them.

Brainy is no longer with them, so right now only the three of them are in the office. Lena’s on her chair, still doing some work even as a teen. Alex is on the couch and Kara is impatiently walking from one side to the other.

“Seriously Alex, what do you think? I could wear Superkid’s suit, and no one would know.” She asks, looking at Alex waiting for a response. It doesn’t come. “Alex?”

“There’s no need to repeat yourself, I ignored you just fine the first time.” It’s what Alex says. You and Jamie try not to laugh out loud.

“Rao, you’re the worst teenager ever!” Kara complains, throwing herself in the chair in front of Lena. “Lena. Hey.” No response. “Lenaaaaaa, do you have any snacks?”

“Kara, I’m trying to work.” Lena shots her down, making Kara roll her eyes.

“Why? We’re teens. We’re not supposed to work. Besides, it’s not like anyone can hear your voice or see your face right now. Am I right, Alex?”

“I stopped listening, so why don’t you stop talking?” It’s what Alex answers. You seriously have to cover your mouth not to make any sound.

“You’re not funny. Just very cruel.”

“Yes, well. It keeps me young.” She winks at Kara. You and Jamie laugh so loud, Kara stands up in one motion, grabbing Jamie’s wrist -the one with the phone still filming- and you watch your cousin being lifted over Kara’s head. She struggles trying to put her feet back on the ground.

“It looks like we have company.” Kara says finally putting Jamie back on her feet, and you get up from the floor and go inside the office too.

“I thought I told you to reverse this!” Lena says, looking at you. You shrug.

“Well, I needed to see how you’re all thinking.” You lie, trying to justify yourself. “Momma doesn’t seem to have changed at all and you’re still working, but aunt Alex seems to have turned into a teen completely.”

“I have not.” She stands up, crossing her arms. “It’s just nice to annoy Kara. Now, I would very much like to return to my old body.”

“Me too! Lena doesn’t even want to make out with me anymore.”

“Oh, dear God.” Lena gets up, going to her cocktail bar and pouring herself a glass of whiskey.

“What are you doing? You can’t drink! You’re not old enough!” You tell her and she looks at you with wide eyes.

“Yes, I am! I’m a forty-six woman in a teenage girl’s body!”

“Well.” You take the glass of whiskey out of her hands. “When I was a sixteen-year-old girl in a baby’s body you fed me baby food, so I guess we’re respecting that rule. That means no drinking for you.” You look at Kara. “And no, you cannot use my super suit and go save the world, because, like I told you, Superkid doesn’t exist anymore. Now, be nice and go buy us some snacks.” Then, you turn to Alex. “And you, stop giving Kara a hard time or I’ll call your wife and have her come and babysit all of you. Now, if you can excuse us, the older ones must figure out a way out of this mess.”

“She’s your daughter alright.” Kara mumbles, looking at Lena and you shoot her a warning look.

Kara follows you and Jamie out of the office and into the elevator. Jamie looks at both of you with a weird expression.

“I thought one was more than enough.” Then she agrees with her head, looking away. “I was right.”

“And you’re Alex’s daughter alright.” Kara steps out of the elevator when it gets on the ground floor and you hear Aly talking to her.

“Hello, Miss Luthor-Danvers! It’s good to see you.”

“Oh, um, yeah! It’s me!” Kara says and you look at Jamie rolling your eyes.

“You know what? The sooner we finish this, the better.” You push the button for the underground level, and it doesn’t take long for you and Jamie -kind of- start working.

You absolutely hate the fact that you started messing with alien technology in the first place. You should’ve listened to Lena when she told you not to touch it. Kara comes in and out with food, Jamie takes several naps next to you, but you keep working.

“Ok, honestly. That’s enough.” Jamie gets up, holding your arm. “We’re going home. They’re not going to die being teens for a day. I mean, you didn’t die being a boy, so they’re cool.”

“Lena told me to find the solution.”

“Yes, well. She said, ‘find the solution’ not ‘find it today’. So, we’re leaving.” Jamie sighs, tired. You look at the clock and agree with your head. “Let’s take our teens home.”

And despite protests, you all go home. It’s funny that none of them can drive, so Jamie is the one left driving all of you around in Lena’s fancy car. You can tell Lena is not enjoying the ride, but there’s not much she can do about it.

“And here we are.” Jamie says, stopping in front of your house.

“Why are our lives so goddamn weird?” It’s how Alex says goodbye, and you look at Jamie raising an eyebrow.

“Good luck with her.” You slip out of the car and follow your moms into the house.

“Well, I’ll go watch TV.” You hear Kara’s voice, and she makes her way to the living room. You look at Lena who just shrugs.

“Meh, guess I’ll do that too.”

“Ok, no.” You follow Kara and turn off the TV. She interjects, but you ignore. “You’re going to take a shower, and Lena is going to help me with dinner.”

“I don’t wanna.” Lena says, throwing herself on the couch and you breathe deep.

“Ok, come on. You guys are not actually teens. Stop being annoying!” You take the control out of Kara’s hand again, when she motions turning the TV back on.

“And you’re not our mom, so stop bossing us.” Kara complains. You breathe deep one more time.

“I wouldn’t have to boss you, if you would just act your age, young lady!” You hear yourself saying that and your eyes widen. “Look at what you’re making me say! My God, I hate myself right now.” You toss the control back at her. “Do whatever you want, I don’t care.”

You still go to the kitchen and get started on dinner. How dare they make you be the responsible adult in the house? They only look young. They’re not actually young. Right?

Jamie: Why does my mom keep acting like a young brat? Isn’t she supposed to be like 50 but look younger?

You: Maybe? My moms are also being immature right now.

Jamie: Do you think their minds are catching up to their body?

You: Maybe???

“Mom!” You call but hear no answer. “Lena!”

“Ugh, what? Can you just leave me alone for like a second?” Lena’s voice comes a while later.

You run to where they are. They’re sitting on the same couch holding hands.

“What’s going on here?” You ask and receive rolling eyes as an answer. Those little weasels!

“God, you’re so annoying for a teen. Are you sure you’re not a 60-year-old woman?” Lena says and you bite your tongue not to answer her. “We’re holding hands, ‘cause this one apparently needs human contact to survive.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of pitch-black as a teen?” You go back to the kitchen and finish the dinner. But they’re awfully quiet in the living room, so you make your way there in silence to see what’s going on. “Wow, that’s a big kiss!”

You interrupt them, like Kara once has done to you and Maya. They are breathless and flushed and are now shooting daggers at you.

“Dinner is ready.” You say but none of them move. They’re really starting to annoy you. “Did you listen?”

“We’re choosing to ignore you.” Lena says and you close your eyes, breathing deep a few times. Come on, you’re not that annoying as a teen. She’s the worst.

“Get up, come on.” You make your way towards them, hold Kara’s arms and make her stand. “Come eat, and then we’re going to sleep. I can’t stand you both anymore. Go on, Kara. Don’t make me say it twice.”

At that she obeys. Lena still rolls her eyes at you once more, before getting up and going to the kitchen table. You thought it would be a lot more fun having your moms being your own age. You felt like they would understand you, but instead they’re so self-centered it is impossible to hold a conversation. There’s no doubt, their minds are catching up to their bodies for sure.

“Hey, hey, hey.” You stop them, before they run out of the kitchen. “You two are not sleeping together. And you still have to do the dishes and clean the kitchen.” You smile, actually excited you get to say that to them. “Go on.”

You don’t even care about the rolling eyes, and the mumbles under their breaths. You’re sitting while they do all the work. You get now why Lena likes bossing you so much. It is fun!

You don’t let them sleep together. You already saw way too much when you went to the living room earlier. So Kara’s stuck sleeping with you, and the moody teen gets to sleep alone in the other bedroom.

It’s early when you wake up. Jamie, Kelly and teen Alex show up at your house sooner than you’d like.

“Ok, I’m going to the lab, you stay here and try to wake my moms up.” You tell Kelly and look at Jamie who grabs the car keys at your signal. “You might have to hire an exorcist for Lena.”

“Can’t be worse than this one.” Kelly points at Alex with her head, who rolls her eyes in response. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at Alex and leave with Jamie.

“Do we roll our eyes that much?” You ask her and she agrees with her head.

“Not anymore. My God, that shit’s annoying!”

You go back to the lab, and surprise! You can’t do it alone. But since Lena’s not around – physically or mentally – you call Brainy, and he shows up a while later to help you.

“Ok, this time, I think we actually got it.” He says and you agree with your head.

“After we undo this thing, I swear to Rao I’m breaking this machine into a thousand pieces.” You look at Jamie. “Ok, call your mami. Time to bring them back.”

It’s not long until Kelly shows up with three moody teenagers fighting behind her. She looks as done as you imagine you would with their bullshit. You pray to Rao this works. You’re done with this tech, and this nonsense all together.

You shove them inside your lab. Show Kara which button to press – she’s the less annoying one – and the rest of you wait outside.

“You did it!” Kara says, opening the lab door, excitedly. You look at them looking normal again and breathe relieved.

“Thank Rao.” You hug both of your moms, while Kelly and Jamie hug Alex. “You two were terrible teenagers.”

“Well, you handled us very well, babygirl.” Lena kisses your forehead. “I love you guys. But, um, I have to go to work.”

Lena leaves in a hurry. Kara, Alex and Brainy also excuse themselves running out of your lab back to their jobs, and you find yourself alone with Jamie.

“Hey. Help me with this?” You give her a piece of wood and point at the alien tech. She nods with a big smile.

Bye, bye weird situations alien tech put you through. Hello, weird situations your life puts you through.

Notes:

Once again thanks @oncemoonie for this fun prompt. I had too much fun with this series.

[applerubyy]

Ciao Adios

Summary: When you find your boyfriend cheating on you yo decide to expose him in the pettiest way you can think of.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (some Loki x Reader if you squint)

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cheating and cursing (I think that’s it?)

A/N: Hi! So this is my first time writing and posting anything here so if its terrible please tell me nicely :). This is some AU where everyone lives and all is happy ok? Also english is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Anyway, if it turns out that some of you like it I think I’d be willing to do a part 2 if you like. Hope you enjoy it! <3. Btw, the gif is not mine so credit to whoever made it.

Crack. That’s the sound of your heart breaking, ripped to pieces in just a few seconds. And no, you were not exaggerating. Seeing your boyfriend kissing someone else while taking off their clothes would do that to a person. And in his office of all places.

How did you not see that coming? They had a lot in common and they did spend a lot of time together but you were just so naïve thinking that he was the most trust-worthy person ever that you looked the other way and believed him when he told you she was “just a friend”. 

Just a friend my ass you thought as you calmly walked to your room. No running, that would draw attention to you and you didn’t need that. No crying either, because once you started you wouldn’t be able to stop. Walking down the hallway and taking the elevator to your floor feels like it takes forever. 

Time is funny that way. It has that annoying tendency to slow down or speed up at the worst times. Like when you were in college and the clock seemed to literally stop, you would look at the time and it was 10:20 am and check again after what felt like half an hour for it to be 10:25 am. Or like when you are having fun with your friends at a club and you see it’s 12:30 but when you look again a few minutes later it’s 2:40. Right now it feels like the former, time seems to have slowed down. Maybe Dr. Strange did something to it? No, that’s stupid, he wouldn’t play with time that way.

Finally the elevator pings open and you rush to your room. Well, it’s not only your room anymore. You share it with him and everything is a reminder of what you just saw. The art supplies on the desk by the window, the famous shield leaning against the wall near the door, the messy bed where you sleep together every night …

And every single thing brings tears to your eyes until finally, the dam breaks and you let the tears fall down. You bring your hand to your mouth to muffle a sob that brings you to your knees. Crying is the only thing you can do right now because your brain is stuck on a loop. All you can see is Steve kissing her, unbuttoning her shirt with one hand while the other grabbed her ass. And all you can hear are their moans, Sharon’s whimper when he touched her and his groan as he did so. 

And now you are full on crying and choking on air because that scene keeps replaying itself over and over no matter how much you want it to stop. And you do, Gosh you do because there is so much your heart can take and this is too much. It shatters you in more ways than one. It makes you question everything you thought you knew about him, about her, about your relationship and about yourself.

You remember the first time you met him. You were already in college and looking for an internship. Luckily you happened to be the niece of the one and only Pepper Potts. And who wouldn’t want to work near Earth's mightiest heroes? You sure did. You were studying journalism and communications in New York and working with the Avengers was the ultimate dream, one that was about to come true.

Your first day was uneventful, it consisted mainly of coffee runs, delivering files and passing messages along. That was until your third coffee run where you ran straight into a wall, well actually it wasn’t a wall but it felt like it. The coffee spilled everywhere, on your clothes and his, and you were going to fall on your butt if it wasn’t for him grabbing your arms to steady you. Imagine your surprise when you looked up to see Captain America himself.

And that’s the moment your love story started. It seemed like something straight out of a romantic comedy and you loved it. It started with flirting, a date and then another, him asking you to be his girlfriend and finally asking you to move in once you graduated. It felt like a fairytale.

Tony wasn't very happy about you and the Capsicle but he saw how happy you were so he tried to be happy too. Tony was your uncle even if you didn’t share any blood. Growing up you would visit your aunty Pepper in New York and he was always around, you even stayed at his house when Pepper and him had to work. So, you two became really close even before he became Iron Man and started dating your aunt. 

The same thing happened with Rhody. Your close relationship with Tony meant you were close to him too, seeing as he was one of the most important people in his life. Rhody treated you like his niece and was the only one he didn’t make fun of which you took as the ultimate compliment. 

So those three you knew before you started working at the compound and before Steve. But once you started working there you met the rest of the Avengers. Being Pepper and Tony's niece and Steve's girlfriend meant they all wanted to get to know you. 

You met Bruce Banner, the Hulk, and you became really close. But that was thanks to his close relation with Tony and all the time you spent with him working on his social media presence to make sure people saw him as more than just the green monster who smashes things. After a while of working there they promoted you and now you manage the Avengers social media.

Nat and Wanda became your best friends from the moment you met. You just clicked and hung out as much as possible, being the only girls on the team meant they were really happy to have another female added to the mix. As for Vision, he liked you because Wanda did, simple as that.

Bucky and Sam were the funniest people ever, their constant bickering always brought a smile to your face and they welcomed you with open arms. Happy that their friend had finally found someone to be with.

Thor and Clint were like the fun uncles you got to see every once in a while. The God of Thunder was like an excited puppy and would hug you till you couldn’t breath every time he came to Earth and Clint would joke around with you and FaceTime you when he was with his kids because they loved you (“best babysitter ever” that called you).

You met Peter when he started working for your uncle. He was a sweet kid and your love of memes, vines and pop culture made you instant friends. He would ask you for advice on girls and tell you science jokes.

But we all know not all fairytales have a happy ending and this one definitely didn’t. You’re feeling so many things at once. There’s anger, sadness, jealousy and something else you can’t put your finger on. You keep crying and are unable to move from your kneeling position on the floor. Checking the clock you realize you’ve been on the floor crying for an hour so you stand up.

Taking a shower seems like the best thing to do, your head is pounding and your face is all puffy. As you shower it hits you, that other feeling swirling around is inevitability. In a way you always thought he was too good for you, you always thought he would eventually get tired of you and trade you for someone else. 

It just hurt too much that it was her, the woman he shared so much with. The niece of Peggy Carter, his first love. An agent of S. H. I. E. L. D.  Someone who risked their life for the world like he did. Someone prettier. Someone better than you.

Yeah, you were definitely on a self-pity party. But you needed to be miserable for a while, to cry it all out, to hurt so that you could move on to the next stage of grief: anger. And when that came, there was no stopping you.

You weren’t a mean person, or a petty one. You gave everyone countless opportunities and forgave way too easily so you never really got angry. But when you did, when you said enough is enough, yeah, you better watch out. That could be the meanest bitch you ever met and she had no mercy.

So you got out of the shower, dried yourself and started getting ready. Tony was throwing yet another party about who knows what and you were not missing it. You liked parties, they were the perfect excuse for wearing pretty dresses and putting on make up. And tonight you were going all out. 

Your inner bitch was concocting a plan and you were going with it.

You hear the door open and prepare yourself to put on the best acting of your life. You take a deep breath and in the sweetest voice you can muster say: “Steve is that you babe?”

“Yeah doll it’s me” you hear him say. A few second later he pops into the bedroom and gives you a peck on the lips as you continue with your makeup.

“How was your day?” Steve asks as he takes off his clothes, probably to take a shower. “I missed you today, i went by your office but you weren’t there” he says with a small frown between his eyes. You could stare at his blue eyes forever but snap out of it when you remember what he did. 

“Oh not much, i left work earlier to get ready for tonight” you answer. Shit your work. You really did leave like that, but after tonight hopefully they’ll understand. “You should start getting ready, the party starts in thirty minutes”.

He smiles at you and tells you he’s going to take a quick shower before getting dressed. He goes to the bathroom and you feel like breaking the mirror but instead take a few deep breaths and remind yourself he’s getting what he deserves later on. With that in mind you finish applying you makeup and smile at yourself, you look good. Moving on to your hair you decide to do some loose waves and that’s it, you really don’t know how to make those complicated updos.

Steve gets out of the shower and starts putting on his suit. Men really do have it easier you think to yourself when you see all the work you had to do and he just showers and that’s it.

You take your dress out of the closet and admire it. It really is beautiful. It has a deep plunging neckline that shows a lot of cleavage and is skin tight with a slit on one side. The fact that it is silver with sequins makes it even better. Pepper helped you pick this dress. 

You put on the dress and admire yourself in the mirror. You look good. Behind you, you hear a whistle and turn around to see Steve watching you lust in his eyes. He comes closer and grabs you by the waist, pulling you to him.

“You look stunning” he says as he wets his bottom lip. “I can’t wait to take it off of you when we get back”. Lying cheating bastard.

“Can't wait” you lie as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. This is just a kiss goodbye you tell yourself. One last kiss before he’s out of your life and probably runs to her. Tears threaten to fill your eyes but you hold them down. Not now.

You break the kiss when the need to breathe is too strong. Grabbing his hand you start walking towards the door and say: “Come on, we’re already late”.

——————————————————————————

The party had already started once you walk in and in true Tony fashion it is elegant and extravagant. Everyone is there: S. H. I. E. L. D. agents, the Avengers themselves, politicians and a few famous people. 

You and Steve walk to the bar and order drinks. A whiskey for him and a strawberry daiquiri for you, yes you are that basic but hey, it tastes awesome. He offers you his arm and with drinks in your hands you start looking for your friends. A lot of people stop you on the way, nobody wants to miss an opportunity to talk to Captain America.

One thing, or rather on person, catches your attention: Loki. He’s sitting on one of the cushions alone with a drink in his hand. It’s weird to see him there. Sure, he was redeeming himself for what he did in 2012 and Thor said he was doing better but he rarely left Asgard (he “hated mortals”) and when he did come to Earth it wasn’t for a party.

As if he could feel you staring he turns his head and locks his eyes with yours. You weren’t going to lie, he was gorgeous. He was incredibly tall, had those charming green eyes and was actually funny (but you’d never admit that to anyone). But you were in love with Steve and never saw him as anything more than Thor's hot brother. And everyone in the Avengers was hot so that’s not saying much.

You turn away from him and see Nat and Wanda on the dance floor and you tell Steve you’ll see him later and to go find his friends. He’ll need them after tonight you think to yourself. You greet the girls and start dancing with them, for a moment forgetting about what you saw today and putting Loki out of your mind.

The three of you decided to take a break and order some more drinks. Once at the bar Wanda orders for you and when your drinks arrive you go back to the dance floor. You spend the next few hours dancing, talking to your friends and pretending that nothing's wrong. Talking to Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong. Hugging Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong. Kissing Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong.

The fact that Sharon is at the party doesn’t help at all. When you see her talking or touching him you feel like you’re gonna lose it but you remain strong. You remind yourself of your plan and try to keep them out of your mind.

There’s a small stage at the far end of the room and you see your uncle Tony step on it and grab the microphone.

“Hello everyone and thank you for coming to another one of my amazing parties. I hope you are having a good time and taking advantage of the free bar over there” he points to the other side of the room and continues, “Now for what we have all been waiting for: karaoke! And yes, i want everyone to sing something because that’s the whole point of this. I'm looking at you Manchurian Candidate, you’re singing”.

With that he gets off the stage and passes the mic to Sam who decided to sing a Marvin Gaye song. He’s pretty good actually but you can’t fully concentrate on him because your mind is going a thousand miles an hour for what it’s going to happen later.

More people go up and sing their songs and you applaud when they’re done. Nobody is talking much, they're all too busy either laughing at the others performance, drinking or actually listening to the songs. You’re sitting with Steve to your right, Bruce to your left and the rest of the Avengers nearby. You’re your own little group.

It’s finally your turn and as you walk to the stage you can hear your friends whistling and cheering you on. Once you’re up on the stage you choose the song and start singing. 

Ask you once, ask you twice now

There's lipstick on your collar

You say she's just a friend now

Then why don't we call her?

So you wanna go home with someone

To do all the things you used to do to me

I swear, I know you do

Used to take me out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when I ring you up

Don't know where you are

'Til I hear her say your name

Used to sing along when you played guitar

That's a distant memory

Hope she treats you better than you treated me, ha

As you continue singing you get more and more confident and take the mic. You walk off the little stage and over to your friends while dancing and you can see them smiling, clapping and having fun. They have no idea how much i mean all of this you think. You look at Steve and he’s completely oblivious. Good, you want to take him by surprise. You arrive at your little circle of friends and start singing the chorus.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her

Kissing and having fun

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

Ciao adios, I'm done

Ciao adios, I'm done

You keep dancing and go back to back with Wanda who’s also singing along. You then turn to Nat and she grabs your hand and makes you do a little spin. 

After three, after four times

Why did I bother?

Tell me how many more times

Does it take to get smarter?

Don't need to deny the hurt and the lies

And all of the things you did to me

I swear, I know you did

And now you take her out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when she rings you up

She know where you are

But I know differently

Now she sings along when you play guitar

Making brand new memories

Hope you treat her better than you treated me

You go up to Tony and he starts dancing around you busting out some dad moves. You laugh and keep on singing and dancing.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her

Kissing and having fun

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done (I'm done)

Ciao adios, I'm done (no, no, no, no)

Ciao adios, I'm done

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

And now you take her out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when she rings you up

She know where you are

But I know differently

Now she sings along when you play guitar

Making brand new memories

Hope you treat her better than you treated me

You walk back to the stage as you sing and step up. You put the mic back into place and sing the last part of the song.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her (with her)

Kissing and having fun (and fun)

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done (I'm done)

Ciao adios, I'm done (you get on with your life, I'll get on with my life)

Ciao adios, I'm done

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

When you’re done people are clapping and cheering and you look to your friends to see them all smiling. You look at everyone and make a little mock bow and when you straighten you see Loki sitting on the same couch as before. But this time he’s looking at you and he’s laughing, not smiling and cheering but actually laughing.

You look back at your friends and say “Thank you, thank you” with a smile on your face. You continue , “I wanted to dedicate this song to my boyfriend Steve” you point at him.

“In case it wasn’t clear enough, i wanted to tell you that i saw you with Sharon”. You could hear a pin drop. No one was talking and all eyes were on you. This is what you wanted, to humiliate him as much as he did you. And what better way to do it than publicly? Oh but you weren’t done.

You could see Steve's face going pale and nobody knew where to look, if at you or at him. Tony look ready to murder him as did Rhody, Pepper, Peter and Bruce. Thor, Clint and Vision looked shocked. But Bucky, Sam, Nat and Wanda looked guilty.

Your heart breaks a little more when you realize they knew. You can’t really blame Bucky and Sam for not telling you, they were Steve's friends after all. But you thought the girls were your friends, that they would have told you. Apparently you overestimated that friendship.

You keep on smiling and continue “So… I’m breaking up with you. Hope she was a good fuck and wasn’t uncomfortable with the fact that you were once in love with her aunt”. You do a dramatic pause and make a little disgusted face. “Anyway, if I’m lucky i´ll never see you again. Have a great life!”

And with that, you walk off the stage and make your way to your friends. Steve is rooted to the spot and his face is red with embarrassment. You walk up to him, look him straight in the eye and give him an evil smile. He gulps and opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something and then closes it. He does is two more times and still nothing comes out.

You turn to your group and look at Wand and Nat, who can’t seem to be able to look you in the eye. You sigh and say: “Who want enemies when they can have you as their best friends right?”. They look up then and start talking. Telling you how sorry they are and to please forgive them. You raise your hand to silence them and they do.

You go to your aunt and uncle who look like there should be smoke coming out of their ears and say: “I’m gonna stay in a hotel for the night, can’t stand to be here anymore”. Tony scrunches his eyebrows and look at you like you’re crazy.

“Hell no. You’re staying here. We can find him another room to sleep in but you’re not leaving. If anyone’s leaving is Mr. Star-spangled over there” he practically screams the last part as he points at Steve.  

You take a deep breath and hug him. It takes him by surprise but he puts his arms around you. “I appreciate it uncle Tony but i can’t stay at the compound, it just hurts too much” you say as you let go. Turning to your aunt you hug her as well and say: “Thank you for everything but I quit”.

The moment those words leave your mouth everyone starts talking at the same time telling you how crazy you are and to think about it. You just smile at them and tell them you already made up your mind. “I'm gonna go pack a bag and ask Happy to take me to a hotel nearby. Please make sure he doesn’t follow” you say as you point to a still red-faced Captain America. 

With that you turn around and leave. The room is silent for a few seconds before you hear your friends all screaming at Steve. You look around for a second and notice that Loki is staring at you with a smirk on his face. When you look him in the eye he raises his glass at you ant takes a sip. 

You give him a small smile and walk through the doors towards the elevator.