#i had this approximately two feet away from me last month

[ingravinoveritas]

David looking stunning in a behind the scenes shot from the Donmar recording of Macbeth.

[writercole]

Storm Warning

Summary: Tyler returns to a town he hasn't seen in three years. He didn't expect much excitement. He could never have expected what he found. Words: 1838 Warnings: None, really. Tyler Owens, angst. A/N: This is still technically part of fall into fall but it's also not so. Either way, this is the result of two songs - Sorry Not Sorry by Demi Lovoto, and Storm Warning by Hunter Hayes. A/N 2: Fun fact, I live 10 minutes away from the town Hunter Hayes was born in. I saw him perform when he was a baby.

Three and a half years. Well, three years, seven months, and five days since I’d last had the misfortune of laying my eyes on the dusty boots and pristine stetson of Tyler Owens. I swore as I dipped my head behind the taps.

“Please don’t come in here. Please don’t come in here,” I whispered. Me seeing him was one thing; it was an entirely different ballgame if he saw me.

Because if he saw me…he’d come over. He’d smile that charming smile. He’d flirt. And my resolve would crumble. I’d fall down at his feet and beg for him to take me with him. And I’d get my heart broken again.

“Oh hell, who is that?” Caity, my coworker, asked as she looked out of the window from behind me.

“Tyler Owens,” I sighed, “calls himself The Tornado Wrangler. Dumb cowboy from Arkansas.” I tore myself away from the window and headed back to work, making sure that there were cases of cheap beer cooling for the aftermath.

“Jesus, that is one fine specimen. I’d like to call him ‘daddy’ a time or two,” she continued as she drooled over the man in the window.

I had to admit that he looked good. I’d snuck a couple of glances as I worked and had to force myself to keep the dreamy sigh to myself. “He has a name, you know.”

“Yeah, and I’d like to scream it all night long.”

Rolling my eyes, I headed to the stock room under the guise of needing another case of bourbon. Really, I just needed a moment to collect my head. And maybe say a prayer. I really, really needed him to just pass through.

I could hear the ruckus through the closed door of the stock room. People coming in, talking loudly. And Boone.

I heard Boone.

Which meant that Tyler wasn’t far behind.

“Fuck,” I whispered to myself as I leaned my hands on a stack of crates and hung my head. I had approximately three seconds before Caity called my name.

Two.

One.

“I need you out here!” Caity yelled down the hall.

“God damn it.” I lifted a crate with a sigh as I headed back to the front of the bar, avoiding the eyes I felt following my every move. I started popping the tops on beers for Tyler’s crew - Budweiser, Miller, Michelob. I still remembered their preferences after all this time. Gathering them onto a tray, I handed Caity the Budweiser. “This one is for ‘daddy’.”

“Ooh thank you! Wait - how do you -”

In the time it took her to catch on that I’d gotten their orders ready without looking, I had rounded the corner of the bar and started heading for the high top in the corner.

“Well, well, well,” I called as I approached, “look what the cat dragged in.”

Lily and Boone cheered and reached out for a hug when I handed their drinks over. Dani and Dexter were more reserved but still wore a bright smile.

“What about me?” Tyler drawled.

“Here you are,” Caity said in a sing-song voice, batting her eyelashes and pushing her tits up.

“Thanks, doll.” The wink he sent her had me rolling my eyes as I strode back to the bar.

“My name is Caity. I’ll be here all night,” I heard her purr as I walked away. It took everything I had not to gag.

Two rounds later, Tyler was leaning on the edge of my side of the bar as I served some new chasers, some Storm Par guys, just waiting. I dragged out my interaction with the two brunettes, making sure to flirt heavily with them, whether I was interested or not.

“Miss?”

Time to face the music.

I stepped over and smiled my fakest smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Are you really going to pretend like you don’t know me?”

“Wait,” I gasped dramatically, “Tyler Owens? Is that…you? Have you really not changed after all these years?”

“No, I suppose I haven’t,” he grinned.

“What a pity. People like you only improve when they change,” I spat as I flagged Caity over to wait on him, citing time for my shift to end.

Seemed to entertain Storm Par, though.

I practically ran out of the back entrance. I didn’t breathe until the door shut behind me. As I leaned against the wall and shut my eyes, trying to get my heart to stop running a marathon, my phone rang. I answered it without looking.

“When are you getting back?” my mother questioned.

“I just got off so soon, Mom, why?”

“Addie is screaming her head off and won’t calm down.”

I could hear my daughter in the background crying and I knew something had to have gone down. “What did you do, Mom?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Then put Addie on the phone.”

“I don’t know why you want to put her on the phone,” she huffed, “she has no idea what’s going on. She’s two.”

“She’s almost three, Mom. She knows more than you think. Now, put her on the phone.”

“Hewwo?”

“Hi, Addie, baby! What’s wrong?”

“I don’ wan Gran no more. I want Mommy!”

“Mommy will be home very soon, baby. I have to stop at the store and then walk home. I won’t be that long.”

“I need you now!” Her shrieks broke my heart and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter. I had to stop at the store before I went home. It was either that or I go without coffee tomorrow and that was not a good idea for anyone.

Plus, Addie needed milk for her cereal.

“I only need two things at the store. It won’t take me much longer than my walk home. What if I bring you a surprise?”

“A prize?”

“Yeah, baby girl, a prize. Can you hang on for a little bit for a prize?”

“Yeah,” she sniffled.

I sighed in relief and pushed off of the wall. “Okay, I’m going to go now. Can you watch some Mickey Mouse until I get home?”

“Mickey and the Christmas ghosts?”

“Mickey and the Christmas ghosts,” I confirmed with a soft smile. It may have been the middle of summer, but she loved the Mickey Christmas Carol movie. It was a bonus that it drove my mother nuts. “Mommy will be home soon, baby. I love you.”

“Wuv you.”

A little shuffling happened on the other end of the phone before my mother got back on the line.

“How much longer?”

“Are you ready to get away from your grandchild already?” I sneered with a roll of my eyes. Her and I didn’t see eye to eye on much and it only got worse when I got pregnant. “I’ll be home probably around the time her Mickey and the ghosts are finished.”

“Again?” she sighed.

“You know that’s her favorite. Just put it on and you can get back on your phone and scroll. I’ll be home soon,” I said, pressing the end call button aggressively.

“Grandchild?”

I jumped at the drawl from behind me, swearing loudly. I wasn’t sure if it was from the surprise of the voice or who the voice belonged to. Spinning around, I found Tyler standing behind me with a furrowed brow.

“Did I not make it clear enough inside?” I sighed. I was exhausted from my shift and already irritated from dealing with my mother and now I had to deal with the walking definition of self-importance.

“Oh, you were clear,” he shrugged before stepping closer. “But I needed to talk to you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need to talk to you.” I started to brush past him and he wrapped his fingers around my wrist. His grip was gentle but I stopped anyway, our shoulders side by side.

“I think you do need to talk to me about something.”

My shoulders drooped and my head hung low. Resignation surged through my veins. His stubborn ass really didn’t know when to let something go, for better or for worse. He wouldn’t let me drop this without an explanation and, not knowing how much he actually heard, I couldn’t lie my way out of it.

“I have to hurry so keep up.” I strode away, turning the corner towards my tiny apartment a block past the tiny convenience store.

Tyler kept up and fell into step beside me. It was quiet between us as we passed the parking lot filled with his fans calling his name. He shoved his hands in his pockets and I crossed my arms over my chest, just waiting.

“Why don’t you start? I think your topic is a little more important,” he pressed. It surprised me that he was calm and rational about this, almost as if he were soothing me.

“How much did you hear?”

“Addie, is it? Almost three?”

“Yeah, my daughter.”

“How close to three, exactly?”

“About two months more.” I knew enough about him to know he’d already drawn the right conclusion and was just looking for confirmation. I also knew that he was not above pissing me off to get the answers.

“There are two options in this scenario and both of them kind of suck for me,” he tried to joke. His laugh stuttered into a throat clear at my glare. “Okay, one option.”

“Yeah, Tyler. One option.”

“So…why didn’t you call me?”

I scoffed as I stopped in my tracks. “You’re kidding, right? You left me, Tyler. Not the other way around. I begged you to let me go with you. You said, and I quote, ‘I don’t need any distractions right now.’ And you want to know why I didn’t call you?”

“I…guess not,” he conceded as he hung his head and kicked a pebble with the toe of his boot. “For what it’s worth -”

“Tyler, your words aren’t worth a fucking thing to me. You shattered me. I’m not letting you do the same to my daughter, to the best thing in my shitty fucking life. So don’t even think about it.”

I stomped away, nearly passing the store before I turned in sharply. Grabbing the milk and pound of coffee, I waved at the owner behind the counter and asked her to put them on my tab, turning back quickly to grab a lollipop for Addie. As I exited the store, Tyler was still there, his head still low, his shoulders slumped forward. I made it ten steps before I groaned and turned back to him.

“I have to get home. Are you in town for a while?” I asked.

“I can be.”

“Is your number still the same?”

“No, but Boone’s is.”

“Well, mine is the same. So text me later. I really have to go.”

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded.

I turned to walk away and he called after me again.

“Exactly how shitty is your life?”

I didn’t even turn around, just laughed and called back, “you don’t want to know.”

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -Chapter 13

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 4,979 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Headcanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings:  Sexual language and depiction of sexual acts, foul language, Image with blood (no gore). This is Slasher smut, be mindful of that and use your discretion.

A/n: I had an extremely stressful two months, very busy and not doing well. I apologize for the massive delay for this chapter, the stress gave me a massive writers block and made it exceedingly difficult to make this chapter. The censored image can be viewed raw on my google doc (By clicking that link you are consenting to seeing graphic adult imagery and you are over 18). Let me know if you want to be in the tag list. I update chapter progress on the masterlist whenever something changes.

Please enjoy this chapter! I worked very hard on it so reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated very much.

Tag List: @fan-goddess , @artxasa , @baybaybear1 , @amour-tae , @dij-ology

Chapter 13

                The chirps of crickets echoed across a golden wheat field that swayed as it followed the winds beckoning, you slowly inhaled the fresh air and kicked your dangling feet as you sat on the fence beside the silo watching as eagles circled the sky. It was a cool day which was a nice break from the constant heat waves beating down the land; you squinted as you focused in on some menacing grey clouds in the distance, they were bloated with rain and began to roll over the horizon, a storm was sure to follow them. You hear some footsteps behind you and a long sigh followed, Luda Mae came up next to you and leaned over the fence, a dirt-stained rag in her hands.

“Looks like we better get them cows and chickens inside the barn soon, or they’ll wander off.” She looks up at you and wrinkles her eyebrows upward,

“You alright hun?” she asks.

You look down next to her and push a weak smile, “I’m still a bit shaken up but, I think I’ll be ok.”

She rubs your back and looks towards the dark clouds, “He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” She steps away and walks off towards the chicken pen.

You smirk at Luda Mae’s seemingly random religious quote, -are we the righteous ones in this situation? I don’t feel very righteous- You hop off the fence and follow her to see if she needs help with the chickens. As you look inside you see Charlie opening up the gates to the cow stalls, he looks up at you and smiles, saying,

“Hey girly, how’s your face feelin’ ?”

You press your hand to your cheek, it’s been 6 days since Dover’s attack on the family and your face was strangely doing well, though it was still somewhat sore.

You shrug your shoulders, “Physically better… at least.”

He chuckles to himself and pulls the last gate open, “You still bothered by that shit stain dyin?”

You nod, “Well, a little… I didn’t want anybody getting hurt and… poor Thomas”. You actually felt worse about Tommy experiencing a traumatic event, and seeing him act so animalistically after didn’t help ease your mind.

Charlie walked up to you, “Dover had it comin’ kid, was nothin’ but self-defense that’s all, ain’t nothin’ to get all soft about.” He puts his hand on his hips and points at you with his other hand,

“And don’tchu worry none ‘bout Tommy, he heals up real fast, ain’t nothin’ gon take him out ‘cept maybe a got’damn freight train, n’ even then…that boy ain’t right.” Charlie looked off into the distance as he got lost in his thoughts.

But it wasn’t Tommy’s physical wellbeing you worried about, it was his mind. Charlie shook his head to snap himself out of his trance and gave your shoulder three pats,

“S’gon’ be alright sweetheart, with you ‘round, that big sentient chunk o’ meat’ll never suffer.” He smirked then walked out the other side of the barn towards the meadow.

Luda Mae came in the barn, her hair all out of place,

“Lord, those chickens are heathens. They give me such a hard time whenever I herd ‘em in the coop.” she was breathing heavily and slouched over to hold her knees in an attempt to catch her breath,

“Was Charlie in here? He needs to go help Thomas with them cows.”

You nod and tell her he went out towards the meadow just now, she stands up straight and reaches her hand out to you,

“C’mon dear, let’s get inside then, get some rest before supper. The boys’ll come in when their done.”

You take her hand and she walks with you up to the kitchen entrance, you hear some rolling thunder in the distance and the sky was already a deep grey. You stand on the porch and look out towards the meadow; you see Tommy and Charlie guiding the cows as they slowly lumbered closer to the meadow gate. Tommy looks up and see’s you, he waves and continues moving the cattle to safety. The wind was stronger now, you could see the large trees near the house tossing their branches around. As soon as you see the last cow pushed into the barn you go inside the kitchen, you shiver from the cold wind stealing your heat.

Luda Mae calls to you from the parlor, when you get there, you see her flopped lazily onto one of the armchairs,

“Come n’ take a rest hun, the boys’ll join us when they get in.” she spoke without opening her eyes, her head was leaning back and her arms dangling off the sides of the arm rests.

You sit on the love seat and slump down a bit, you felt a little cold and looked around for a throw blanket to put over your shoulders, you say to Luda Mae,

“I can’t believe how cold it’s become, I never thought I would finally feel chilly.” You were usually used to sub-zero weather back home but your body was climatizing to the heat quickly which made you feel the drop in temperature more intensely.

Luda Mae laughs, “Oh yes, sometimes it gets real cold out here. Theres a blanket behind that there pillow.” She points to the large pillow on the seat next to you.

You scoot over and find a rolled up blanket made of cotton, it was soft to the touch but had a musty smell from living behind the pillow and unused for so long -well, it’s the best I have for now I guess.- you unfurl it and drape it over your body.

Just as you started warming up, Charlie and Tommy entered the house, they both kicked off their boots haphazardly while Luda Mae rolled her eyes at their carelessness. Charlie came and sat in the other empty armchair, he let out a long groan as he bent his knees to sit. Tommy came and sat gently next to you, he lifted his arms and rested them on the back of the loveseat, you felt his hand reach down to tickle your shoulder which made you blush, he looked at you and winked then looked back at Luda Mae who sat up and began to fix her hair.

“Well seems we got a bit of a storm headin’ our way huh.” She glances at Charlie who just grunts in agreement, he lifts his head and looks at you,

“Y’cold or somethin’?” he smirks.

You nod quietly, Tommy looks down at you and tilts his head to the side as he inspects the blanket you have on, Charlie continues to speak,

“Well look what’s next to you.” He points at Tommy, “He’s a walkin’ heater, best use his warmth up.” He meets eyes with Tommy and nods in your direction, “Boy, don’t be shy now, warm the girl up fer fucks sake.”

Tommy sits up straight and grabs you, hoisting your body effortlessly onto his lap. He was so quick you didn’t even have time to react, you just sat there looking up at him as he held you in his arms; Tommy’s body heat was warming you up quickly, you wanted to curl up and purr like a cat with how comfortable you were. He placed the blanket over you and relaxed his muscles a bit, you leaned your head on his chest and closed your eyes, it was too comfortable to stay awake.

You fell asleep quickly but were still able to hear bits of conversation from the Hewitts as you dreamt, the slow heaving of Tommys chest was lulling you into a deep sleep. You mind created a scene of peace, you and the Hewitts were all gathered around a large table, your old, passed friend was there and so was Tilly. There was a large breadth of food stacked onto the table and fairy lights surrounded you all as the sun set. You watched as they all laughed and chatted together, then Charlie stood up and clinked his glass. He said some things that you didn’t hear, you turned and saw Tommy in a grooms suit, he watched Charlie and listened to the mumbled words.

You looked down at yourself and saw that you were in a wedding dress, Tommy took your hand and kissed it. He got up from his chair and wandered off into the woods, you got up and followed him calling out for him to come back. You finally caught up to him, he turns to look at you but his eyes are white and he is covered in blood breathing heavily, his mask was off revealing a mutation of large teeth sharp like a wolf.

You scream and run away from him, as he chases you, the sound of growling and rumbling could be heard. You trip on your dress and you are grabbed and roughly flipped over, its Dover, he is growling at you making you scream.

You feel shaking and wake up, still in Tommys arms, the sounds of rolling thunder coming into the house from the storm. Tommy looks at you with a worried expression, Luda Mae calls over to you,

“Were you havin’ a bad dream hun?” she is sitting upright and holding her glasses close to her eyes to see you clearly.

You rub your eyes and reply,

“Yeah, sorry, I guess I’m still getting over the Dover situation…”

Luda Mae adds, “That’s gon’ take some time to heal dear. I’m so sorry we didn’t get him dealt with sooner. We shoulda been more careful.”

You see her look down at the floor, visibly upset at your mental pain. Charlie gets up from his chair and says,

“You just need to get more confident sweetheart.” He stops and rubs his chin then adds, “You know what? Tommy should show you how t’fight! If you can learn somethin’ ‘bout fightin’ back, then you won’t be feelin’ like a victim so bad.”

You didn’t appreciate the ignorant statement about ‘feeling like a victim’ since you literally were being victimized by Dover, but you thought to yourself -he does have a point, I really don’t know how to protect myself, maybe it will give me a sense of safety- You look up at Tommy who is still looking down at you as he held you close,

“It couldn’t hurt to try. Would you be willing to teach me?”

He shifts his eyes, he was unsure about how effective he could be, and he was also crestfallen at the fact that you would even need to learn such things. He wanted to be the thing stopping any and all danger, he wanted to be a protective barrier for you. He looked back at you and nodded, despite him wanting to be your guard, he knew he wouldn’t always be around you 24/7 and that you should be able to experience strength for yourself.

Luda Mae got up off her chair and spoke,

“Now’s the perfect time to do it, what with the storm goin’ on outside, you two might as well go downstairs and practice while I start on dinner.” She walked up to Tommy and spoke under her breath, “Now you watch your strength, Thomas. Teach her good n’ fair.”

Tommy nodded to her and gently placed you off his lap and onto the seat beside him, he got up and held his hand out to you while giving a directional nod towards the basement door. You got up and took his hand, the both of you walked down to the basement together.

-

Tommy brought you into the room next to the bathroom on the right side after you get to the bottom of the stairs. This room had that creepy big furnace in it and weeds covering the small windows which made it exceptionally dark. Tommy found the light switch and flipped it on revealing the mess of junk and old furniture with storage boxes clamored around. The floor was made from old wood planks where you could see the foundation underneath, you watched as Tommy pushed away a bunch of junk to make room for you both. He unfurled a thick rug to act as a wrestling mat so you wouldn’t get hurt from the floor.

He looked at you and said,

“I dunno much, but, ah could teach ya how t’get out of some holds I s’pose” you nod and wait for instruction.

He gently puts one of his arms around your neck and holds one of your arms behind your back with his free hand. He instructs you on how to get out of it by dropping your body weight downwards to slip out of the hold. You successfully get out of the hold and he helps you up to try again. Each time you succeeded he tightened his grip. You couldn’t help but feel giddy about his massive bicep hugging your head, if it were anyone else you would be terrified but because you trusted him, it was an oddly erotic experience.

After a few more types of holds were shown to you, he then instructed you on a proper way to make a fist and how to punch with good technique. As you make a fist, he inspects the placement of your fingers and gently moves them into the correct position, you make a new fist which he inspects then gives a thumbs up.

“Now, I want ya t’punch me as hard as y’can” he gives you a serious look. You were taken aback by the request, you say,

“No way, I don’t want to hurt you!”

He starts laughing, you feel confused,

“Why are you laughing? I don’t wanna make you feel pain, even if it’s just practice.”

He looks at you, his eyes still squished upward from smiling,

“No offense er nothin’ but, I don’t think yer strong enough t’give my body pain. Which’s why I need ya t’punch me hard as ya can, so I can see what I’m workin’ with.”

You forgot how unbelievably strong this beast before you really was. You realized how silly it may have come off thinking you could even scratch him. Feeling less powerful than Tommy didn’t make you feel as scared or helpless as when you were made to feel weak from regular men, every time you mentioned to men you knew that you wanted to try self-defense, they would bombard you with demeaning words, saying ‘no woman is stronger than a man, self-defense is useless’.

Tommy was different than them, instead of trying to tear you down for trying to protect yourself, he encouraged you and helps out. He wanted you to feel powerful like him, but most importantly, he wanted you to feel safe and confident on your own.

Tommy stood up straight, rising to his full height, his head almost hitting the ceiling. He pointed at the center of his stomach and said,

“Hit here as hard as ya can.”

You widen your stance and pull back your fist then thrusting it forward using all of your muscle, the hit connected but Tommy didn’t even flinch or budge. It was like punching steel covered in a thick layer of rubber, he was built so solid it was no wonder he didn’t care how hard you hit.

He relaxed himself a little bit and put his hand to his chin,

“That was, a real good hit. If I were anyone else, that might’ve hurt. Good Job”

Tommy then tells you he wants you to try some floor holds. He moves to the floor and you follow, he mounts over your back and gently holds your arm and neck. Once again you feel excitement at his body being so close to yours, he instructs you on how to escape the hold and you succeed with each try.

The final hold you were to get out of managed to land you on top of Tommys chest, he leaned his head back and said,

“I think that’s enough learnin’ for today.”

You laugh and steady yourself on him, your legs had to spread wide to be able to straddle him for stability though your knees were still unable to reach the floor. You smile as you look into his eyes, their deep blue penetrates through the dim light of the basement. He lets out a relaxed sigh and runs his hands up your thighs to reach your hips were he gently holds onto you; You remained silent, there was nothing you could say, the trance he had over you was intoxicating.

He let out a deep hum and traced his eyes all over your form just drinking in your magnetic beauty, his mind was running rampant with primal thoughts of desire, he did well to control himself under the overwhelming pressure. Tommy felt a deep burning for you, a longing, he cherished spending time alone with you. To him, you were an oasis in a desert of torment and trauma, a glimmer of light in the dark pit of hell that is his mind.

When he tries to sit up, you press your hands into his chest and push him back down, his laugh muffled by his mask. You grin, knowing he is receptive to being a bit playful now, so you take the opportunity to make him squirm. He is holding his torso up with his arms pushing off the floor, looking up at you, it was an interesting sight to take in, you have this massive giant pinned down waiting for you to control the next move; You could feel your core heating up with the anticipation of what comes next. In an effort to torment him, you moved your hips further back so your groin lay on top of his.

His eyes changed expression, they were now half lidded and dilated, his eyebrows rolled up toward his forehead as if he were worried, but this was not worry, this was a begging plea for you to further push your salacious antics. You let your body weight press into him and sat comfortably on a dangerous area, as you gently rolled your hips in a subtle attempt to arouse him, his breath hitched and he leaned his head back closing his eyes. You looked on as he exposed his trunk-like neck, the pulsation of his heart beat was visible through his muscle; You grind your hips on him, it was a playful way to tell him what you wanted without asking, but he was too cautious and didn’t add in his own movements despite desperately wanting to.

His body couldn’t hide his desire and you quickly felt your tenderness being pressed into by a stone-like presence. He was erect to the fullest extent and you didn’t need to look down to see the pipelines length that you were seated on, you could feel it. He let out a strained sigh that ended with a barely audible whimper, you knew he was enjoying the suffering, he wanted to badly to get inside the enigma of a woman that was you, he wanted to make the walls of your femininity flitter with release. He grabbed the sides of your hips and pushed your body to continue making the wave-like motions he craved so badly, you complied and enhanced the movements to see how far you could walk the line.

He was breathing heavy and was so focused on your expression to make sure he didn’t see any winces of pain or reluctance. He could feel the intense heat from between your legs which only fueled his actions further, he watched as your face reddened with blush, he was taken with the vision in front of him; A woman so kind and unique, so perfect, was seated on top of him, his bulging manhood was a pitiful three layers of cloth away from ecstasy. He could feel himself bubbling up inside, he knew what was coming so he stopped movement, he didn’t want to let his fluid touch you unless you told him you wanted it.

You feel his hands release your hips, and he remained still, his chest still heaving and a mist of sweat formed on his skin. It was jarring to have the fun stop so abruptly but you knew there was a reason, you just didn’t know what it was.

“Everything ok?” you asked.

He lay there with his hands to his side, staring up at the ceiling, he replied,

“It’s t’much fer me. Ah feel ready t’splode.”

You suppress a grin and lean over him, resting your torso on his chest and lay your head down on him with your hands folded in front of your face, you say,

“We don’t have to go further if you aren’t ready. I’m in no rush.”

He felt badly for seemingly ruining the fun, but he didn’t know how much more he could handle, he looks up at you and adds,

“Ah dunno if I can keep m’self held down when y’mess with me”

You smile at him and run your hand through his hair, you give him some gentle words,

“When the time is right, we’ll know, and when it comes, I want you to let loose.”

You knew he was trying to warn you about what he thinks he will do, but he didn’t know you were ready and willing to experience whatever may come, even if it could put you in danger, you didn’t care, you just wanted to let go and be free and wild with him. He put his arms around you and squeezed your body into his, if this was a bear hug it could have been mistaken for a grizzly.

“I care ‘bout ya, y’know that?” his voice was deep and serious.

You put both your hands on the sides of his head and pull his face in, and say,

“I hope you know I feel the same about you.”

His eyes light up with joy and he sits up, lifting you with him, your legs still tight around his hips. Your body slid down right onto his erection which pressed into your mound with force as you sank,

“Ay Woah!“ you wince in pain.

he quickly lifted your body up off his stiffness and lowered you down behind it so you could sit on his lap.

“Ah dang sorry! Didn’t mean t’hurt y’there” he was full of concern, he briefly forgot how long he kept firm for.

You blush and let out a laugh,

“It’s ok, guess I’m gonna have to prepare for that.”

He was surprised at your reaction, he thought for sure you would be put off by his size and hardness, he was told by Charlie on numerous occasions that women were scared of ‘big dicks’ and that he’d be lucky to even graze up against a ‘kitty’. No matter what you may say to him, he was still so sure that when the time came, you would not even attempt, so he kept his hopes low and chose to just enjoy the fun while it lasted.

You look down at the thing that poked your lower region, you could see a massive bulge shooting up into his jeans. The length of it shocked you but the real surprise was how strong it was, it seemed like his pants would rip open from pressure. You couldn’t help but reach out to touch it, you place your hand on the tip and slide downward to feel its entirety. Thomas gasped but didn’t stop you, he just watched wondering what would come next.

You smirk to yourself, it felt like you were touching a metal pipe, you traversed his length again to feel how thick it was, you weren’t able to fully gauge its circumference so you put your hands on his pant zipper but stopped abruptly,

“Can I… look?” you spoke in a breathy tone.

Thomas nods slowly, you unbutton the top of his jeans and unzip the crotch, his penis bounces upward, still covered by his black boxer briefs. You gently pull him out of confinement, it was emitting a lot of heat and warms your hand as you wrap your fingers around it. The width is beyond what your single hand could grasp, your fingers had almost 3 inches of space between fingertips.

You got off his lap and sat in a kneeling position in front of him so you could better see what you were dealing with. Tommy was breathing heavily, every touch from your hands made him inhale sharply and his penis twitched with anticipation. You used both hands to feel all over his manhood, large veins trailed around the base, he had a large glans, the ‘neck’ protected by a short layer of skin which pulled back revealing the bright pink tip. You saw a bead of pre-cum already forming at the opening, with a gentle tap, you touched it and pulled back with it stretching and leaving a glimmering trail from tip to finger.

To your surprise, he didn’t have a smell, most men you interacted with had some sort of musk or skin smell to them, but he had an earthy scent to him like he was working with plants all day. This just made you want to taste him badly, you had to know what flavor his desire was, so you started to lean down towards it, you saw his eyes widen quickly but he didn’t move an inch.

You gave it a soft lick on the tip, he let out a stifled moan and his cock twitched so forcefully that you lost grip of it.

“Is this ok?” you ask earnestly.

He nods enthusiastically, so you continue your torturous licks making sure to hold firmly so he wouldn’t slip away again. The head of his penis was large and had a pronounced lip, the kind of shape capable of friction that your G-spot would feel so intensely. His shaft was almost as long as your forearm and had a hefty underside which would have weighed it down if he didn’t seem to have such strong pelvic muscles.

You felt desperate to have him inside you, his dick was not only impressive but curved slightly upwards and the curiosity of how it would feel in you was driving you wild. You could feel a slick form in your folds causing your hole to twitch in anticipation. Your licks became more aggressive until you decided to put your mouth around the tip of his cock, Tommy let out a whimper then groaned as you began to suck. The expression in his eyes was glorious, you saw his eyes roll upwards before he closed them and leaned his head back exposing his gorgeous thick neck.

You began to slowly bob your head up and down, getting as much of him inside your mouth as you could handle, you positioned your tongue underneath the base of his head to accept more inside. Tommy was now a moaning mess, every flick of your tongue or squeeze of your mouth made him louder. You could feel he was ready to cum because his penis began to pulsate and his legs tensed up.

You removed his dick from your mouth and rubbed with your hands quickly, you were excited to see how much he was capable of making. With a few more movements he clenched his teeth and grunted loudly; a bright white liquid came shooting out of him. You gasped as you watched the cum explode out of him in thick ropes, you never seen someone cum so much and so hard in your life, he quickly grabbed his cock and aimed it away from you while still groaning with his orgasm.

You were surprised how much was still flowing out, it shimmered as it seeped into the rug beneath you both, he was panting heavily as the last few spurts pushed out onto the ground before him. Once the ejaculate stopped, he flopped onto his back trying to catch his breath. You crawled up to him and lay next to him, he put his arm around you and lifted you up towards his face.

“Yer a real vixen, gettin’ me bent outta shape.”

You laugh, “You’re fun to play with”

He places you next to him and sits up putting his dick back in his pants, he turns to look at you,

“I didn’t… make a mess on ya did I?”

You shake your head and smile, he continues,

“Good. I never had no one do that t’me” he stands up, “I hope it didn’t scare ya none”

He held out his hand to help you up, you reply,

“Nope. Now I just want more”

You both hear Luda Mae call out for you both that dinner was ready, Tommy walks with you out to the stairwell leading up to the main floor. He stops you with both hands, he bends down to look you in the eyes,

“I’m gon start messin’ with y’now. Ya had yer fun, now I’m gon’ show you how it feels” His voice was a deep whisper, he kept his hands firmly on your arms and stood up straight, you give a devilish smirk,

“Ive been waiting for you to say that”

He releases his grip, and watched as you walked up the stairs with a smug swagger. He was excited to play this erotic cat and mouse game with you, now he was going to have some real fun giving you the ache of desire with nothing to do about it.

He spoke quietly to himself,

“She’s gon’ kill me”

He grins and follows up the stairs after you.

Next chapter-

[racheyace]

Running Into Fire

A Luke and Matt sizeshifter short story, this story takes place immediately after 'Be the Hero'.

TW: Life threatening scenarios involving being trapped in a burning building, some swearing, mentions of self-hate and shame

Approx 4.2k words

“Come on dude please! This will be so good for your image!” Matt was pacing the living room practically giddy with excitement; he was shaking like a squirrel on caffeine.

Luke on the other hand was largely less enthused, mostly embarrassed, and deadly scared of revealing his unique abilities to anyone else, he’d already let too many people see what he was capable of in the last few months.

“Matt I can’t, I can’t just go around shifting for the whole world to see, you don’t get it.”

Matt raised his eyebrows, he wasn’t going to let this drop, it had been two weeks since the incident at the bank and Matt was convinced, he was now somewhat of a vigilante. Luke had used his size shifting abilities during a bank robbery, the robber had turned suicidal when it was clear there was no sign of escape and had set a bomb.

Luke, thinking quickly had shifted into his larger size of approximately 60 feet to smother the bomb and apprehend the criminal. The police had then discovered what was going on and promised Luke they would keep his secret, for which he was grateful.

Matt on the other hand was only convinced further that Luke should continue to use his powers for fighting crime.

“Honestly Luke what the hell is the point in having kickass superpowers if you aren’t ever gonna use them!”

“I’m not a superhero Matt, I’m a freak of nature and this has to be kept a secret.” Luke stood then, feeling his blood pressure rise with the feeling of anger, he didn’t want to fight with Matt, but he was becoming increasingly more frustrated by the minute.

Another reason Luke couldn’t rely on his own abilities, though he had some semblance of control to shift at will, his shifting was also controlled by his heightened emotions.

Feelings such as anger or stress could cause him to grow and feelings of sadness and exhaustion would make him shrink, all out of his control, if he didn’t have a handle on his emotions.

“I’ve kept your secret Luke, and I don’t plan on going around revealing your powers to the world, but I at least think you should be using them to save people.” Matt was firm, his arms crossed over his chest, all excitement of a child gone in an attempt to help his friend see his own potential.

“Fuck man you don’t seem to understand that if this gets out, people will come after me, either the general public who think I’m dangerous or the government who will see me as a science project. I won’t be helping anyone if I’m locked up in some government facility.” Luke pushed his fingers through his short brown locks.

“This isn’t like in the movies Matt, superheroes aren’t real, in real life freaks like me need to stay hidden, for our own protection and for the protection of others.” Sighing deeply, Luke finished his rant, he wasn’t usually a man of very many words, but he needed to get Matt to understand this.

“Fine, whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.” The tall blonde walked away from the conversation, it was clear they were not going to agree on this tonight, but he knew his friend and he knew that when push comes to shove, he would be the hero.

Luke fell back into the soft cushions of the couch, he didn’t feel like he’d won that, and he knew he hadn’t, but at least for now Matt would drop the issue and stop sketching potential superhero disguises for him.

Luke and Matt had known each other since they were in the first grade and had been thick as thieves since. When Lukes abilities made themselves known when he was six years old, he was sworn by his parents to keep it a secret even from his best friend, so it wasn’t until high school that Matt actually learned of Luke’s gift and even that had been by accident.

Luke had been stressed about a major test and feeling the tightness in his body and the push of shifting coursing through him all day, when the test was over, he had bolted into the forest that backed onto the school oval so he could shift.

He had not expected anyone to follow him, but he was grateful that it had been Matt and not someone else, though it had been a scary revelation for Matt he had quickly overcome his fears and was stoked to be in on the secret. Luke had felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders that he didn’t have to hide a huge part of who he was from his best friend.

Now some 10 years later, both of them in their mid-twenties and sharing an apartment in New York, still best friends and trying to lead a somewhat normal life, this had clearly grown boring for Matt though.

Matt was the more charismatic of the two where Luke was the quiet nerdy type, overly emotional and anxious as all hell, which didn’t bode well for him considering the nature of his abilities.

Luke’s biggest fear is still to lose control of his abilities and hurt someone he cares about, there had been way too many close calls throughout the course of his life so far and it was so easy to lose control. He couldn’t let that happen, and if he were to play the superhero then the probability of something going horribly wrong was much higher, he couldn’t risk it.

“Why can’t I just be fucking normal.” Luke sighed through gritted teeth; life would be so much simpler.

A loud explosion sounded nearby, shaking Luke from his self-depreciating thoughts, the crash could be felt like an earthquake through the floor and rattled the windows. Quickly jumping to the window, he could see flames coming from a nearby apartment building, only a block or two away, it looked as though a few cars had crashed into the building followed by an explosion.

Hearing the quick pads of feet down the hall he turned to see Matt had emerged with his shoes on and a hoodie over his pajama top.

“Oh, hell no.” Luke said, already knowing exactly what Matt was thinking.

“We will get there faster than the emergency services Luke, we have to go and help.” Matt was already heading for the door, his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m not doing it Matt; I won’t shift in front of all those people.”

Matt sighed turning away from him, clearly still either pissed or just disappointed in him, he opened the door as he spoke “I’m not asking you too, I’m going to go and help, whether you come with me or not, that’s what good people do.”

Matt closed the door behind him, and Luke turned his pale blue eyes skyward as if the ceiling might provide him with a reasonable excuse to stay in his apartment. Groaning loudly, he pushed off from the window to put his shoes on.

He wouldn’t let his friend go alone with the potential that he could and would recklessly put his own life in danger to help, he was the real hero after all, Luke was the coward.

Luke quickly raced down the two flights of stairs and chased after Matt who was already approaching the smoky scene. Now seeing things up close, it was clear that two cars had crashed into each other before rolling into the building and crashing into what must have been a gas pipe.

The six-story building was in flames, four of the six floors already engulfed with the fire rapidly escalating higher by the minute, many residents of the building were standing outside already disheveled and, in their nightwear, crying and hugging each other.

“Is everyone out? Has anyone called 911?” Matt was asking the crowd, a few people were on their phones already, presumably calling emergency services.

“No, there’s an elderly couple on the sixth floor, I can’t see them, there’s also a family with kids and I think a few others, I can’t see them anywhere they must be still inside, of god I wish they would hurry!” A stocky woman shouted, she had short, cropped hair and was clutching a small dog to her chest sobbing into his fur.

Matt nodded at the woman before running towards the entry way into the apartment, Luke followed after him grabbing his arm to pull him back.

“No fucking way Matt, there’s no way I let you go in there.” Matt tugged on his arm trying to shake Luke off of him, he had a sharp look in his hazel eyes.

“I’m not gonna just stand here and watch it burn, the firefighters are ten minutes away, they’ll be dead by then.”

“And you’ll be dead too, fuck!” Look shut his eyes tightly thinking of a way to get those people out, they couldn’t go up from the bottom, it was already unstable and engulfed by flame, they needed to go in from the top. He had a plan, but he didn’t like it.

“Damnit Matt, come with me, quickly!” He shouted at his friend pulling him around the corner and into the shadow of the neighboring building.

“We do this quickly okay, I’ll shift and let you in to the sixth floor, get the people to the window and I’ll carry them down and then we go before emergency services get here, got it?”

Without waiting for his friend to respond he quickly shot up to his 65-foot height, he pulled his hoodie over his face to hopefully hide his identity from onlookers, he then knelt down in front of his friend, laying his hand palm up for Matt to climb onto.

It never ceased to amaze Matt each time he saw his best friend grow into a literal giant, but there was no time to stare slack jawed, he quickly climbed on sitting with crossed legs in the center of the massive palm as it rose into the air.

With only a brief moment to hesitate, Luke carefully stepped out of the shadows of the building and rounded the corner, his footsteps quaked the ground below him and the multitude of gasps from the ground made him flinch. Ignoring the gawking stares, he went straight up to the building trying his best to keep his steps light lest he cause the unstable building to collapse.

At his impressive height of 65 feet, he stood eye level with the windows of the sixth floor, carefully and mindful of his small passenger he raised his hand up to the sixth floor, knocking one of the windows with the tip of his finger to break it and allow Matt to enter.

Once his hand was level with one of the windows, Matt stood and jumped through the open window, immediately shouting to anyone that might be there.

“If your still up here, shout out, make a noise, we need to get you out of here now!”

With nothing else to do but anxiously wait while the crowd of small people below him stared up at him in most likely fear, he fiddled with the edge of his hood and tried his best not to look at them.

He could feel their stares though, and the click of photographs being taken.

In the distance he could hear sirens and he cursed under his breathe.

“Come on Matt.” Luke muttered impatiently.

As if reading his mind, Matt made an appearance at the window, he had an elderly woman in a nightgown on his left with her arm over his shoulder for support and an elderly man on his right also leaning against him and coughing from the smoke in the air.

Luke raised his hand to the window, making it level and flush against the side of the building so it was easier for them to step onto, the woman looked up probably expecting to see a fireman and a ladder but instead was greeted with large blue eyes peering in.

She screamed bloody murder and clung to Matt, urging him to back away from the window.

“Ma’am it’s okay, he’s a friend, we are here to help I promise.” He assured her.

“M-monster!” She wailed, Luke’s heart skipped a beat at the word, he’d always referred to himself as a monster, a freak but never once had he heard someone cry that name at him before, not his family, not Matt, not even the frightened onlookers during the bank incident.

The word pierced through him, and he hesitated, he didn’t want to force them to do something they didn’t want to do, he knew what it felt like to literally put your life in someone else’s hands, and they didn’t know him and had no reason to trust him.

Matt rubbed the woman’s back soothingly, while the old man stood silently, his shirt pulled over his mouth so he could breathe easier, he stared at Luke as if calculating if it was worth the risk.

At that very moment Matt had just managed to calm down the old woman when there was more commotion behind him and soon a young woman with two young children, a little girl of around six years old and an older boy maybe ten, came into view of the window. The mother skidded in her tracks when she took in the scene before her, backing away towards the fiery hallway they had just come from.

“No wait!” Matt cried, quickly becoming frustrated with everyone’s hesitance towards his friend.

“Listen! This is Luke! He’s a friend, I swear, we only want to get you down from this building, you only have to trust him for one minute then I swear you can walk away!”

The mother and two children walked a little closer, but the old woman was firm in place.

“Do you want to wait for the fire fighters to get here and risk your lives while you wait or do you want to get down now!”

That was enough to convince the young mother and she skirted around the wailing woman, she then helped her children up onto the ledge and onto the awaiting palm, once seated in the center she held both her children close to her.

Luke raised his other hand as a sort of safety ledge before carefully pulling his hands away from the building and lowering the small family to the ground.

Another round of gasps erupted from the people around him and he kept his head tilted downwards in hopes that no one would get a good angle of his face. Once his hand was on the ground, he moved his other away from the family so they could step off easily, his eyes met the little girls, she reminded him so much of his own little sister when he was younger.

The young woman stood on shaky legs and pulled her children along with her, Luke had to suppress the automatic impulse to flinch from the feeling of small limbs tickling his sensitive palm. The little girl toddled after her mother and gave him a little wave, her other hand gripping a small brown bear to her chest.

“Thank you, Luke.” She said, her voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear it, he nodded once to her before he addressed the growing crowd.

“I’m gonna stand up again.” He muttered, he knew his voice no matter how soft would carry and echo through the streets, he felt he at least owed them a little warning.

Then standing again, he raised his hand once more to the window ledge, the fire had entered the room now and the woman still stood shaking her head, now however the old man was at her side also trying to convince her to get on.

“Come on Brenda love, we can’t stay here.”

Matt had had enough though, he approached the window trying to get a glimpse of the emergency services, he could hear them getting faintly louder, still a minute or two away, but the building could give way at any second.

“Luke your gonna have to grab her.”

Luke gulped audibly, not only did he really not want to do that, but he hated grabbing anyone against their will, even holding the robber in a firm fist had made him feel sick to his stomach. No one should have their free will taken from them like that, especially a frightened old woman.

“Matt, you can’t ask me to, I can’t.”

“Do it lad, she won’t listen to reason, please help us out of here.” The old man spoke up then, his wife was in a state of panic and not listening to anything happening around her, there was no way to convince her to get on his hand willingly and Matt couldn’t lift her onto it on his own.

The building groaned and that made up his decision, they had to do this now.

“Okay, alright, you two get on first.” The old man wasted no time, he climbed on and sat himself down holding on tight to Luke’s thumb that had curled into his palm, Matt hopped on shortly after.

Luke moved them towards his chest, so they had some kind of shield from the drop below before his other hand crowded the window, the old woman was backing up, but she wasn’t fast enough for the large appendage that invaded the small space of the room.

She screamed so loudly that it could surely be heard from a few blocks away, Luke held his breathe, hating himself as his fingers wrapped around her frail frame, he held her in a loose fist, not wanting to squeeze too tightly on her fragile body.

Then as carefully as he could he pulled her from the building, he knelt down once more, letting off his two passengers and carefully opening his other hand next to Matt so he could help her if she was unstable.

Luke hadn’t realized until now, but the old woman had become silent in his hand, as he let her go, Matt caught her and lowered her onto the ground.

A deafening groan came from the building behind them, and Luke turned to see the sixth floor begin to collapse, he stood and stretched his arms out hoping to shield the civilians from the crash, He pushed the building upright with a grunt and then let it concave in on itself. God, he hoped that they had gotten everyone out.

The dust and smoke filtered out through the streets, causing the people on the sidelines to cough and choke, it was then that the fire truck rounded the corner, screeching tires and sirens blazing casting the site in red and blue light. Luke decided to pay them no mind, they were late to the scene, and he had other things to worry about now.

Once he was sure the building wouldn’t fall further into the crowd, he turned back to Matt and the elderly woman on the ground, his eyes widened when he saw that Matt was pushing his hands into her chest, performing CPR.

All colour drained from Luke’s face and he crouched down so his face was hovering over them, Matt’s brow was slick with sweat from the exertion.

“W-what happened? D-did I-?”

“I think she had a heart attack.” Matt panted as he continued pressing rhythmically into her chest.

“No no no.” Luke muttered, he thought for sure his own heart had stopped, this is what he feared most, he’d actually done it, he’d hurt someone, unintentionally but nevertheless proved he was indeed what she had called him, a monster.

“Step back!” A burly looking man pushed through the crowed, he held a first aid kit and a portable defibrillator slinging across his chest and an ambulance emblem on his uniform, he must be a paramedic.

“Suspected heart attack, she’s been unresponsive for about a minute.” Matt told the paramedic as he took over, Matt was a paramedic also but obviously off duty, he helped the man cut the woman’s shirt down the middle before sticking two defibrillation tabs onto her chest.

“Clear!” The man shouted before proceeding to shock the woman, her body jolted, and a deafening single beep resounded. He rebooted the device and went for it once again, jolting her body, it felt like time stood still as everyone waited to listen to the beeping of her heart.

“Beep, beep, beep.” A rhythm, Luke exhaled a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, the breeze blew the hair of those directly under his looming face, and then the paramedic looked up at him.

“He’s cool.” Matt said, he spoke to the man with familiarity, like they knew each other, they probably did seeing as Matt was also a paramedic.

“I don’t wanna know man.” He shook his head and waved for them to get out of there, Luke wasted no time, he stood without waiting for Matt to follow, rounded the corner and when he saw no one was looking he shrunk back to an average height of 6 foot 5.

Matt jogged around the corner to catch up with him and immediately pulled his mate into a tight hug.

“Luke, I don’t care what you say or what you think, you’re a hero, those people would not still be alive without you.”

Luke couldn’t shake the image of the old woman, literally scared to death, he may have actually killed her had Matt not been there to start CPR she would still be dead.

“Heroes don’t kill people Matt.” He said quietly, he couldn’t meet Matt’s eyes, instead he only stared at his hands like they were alien to him. “let’s just go.” Luke turned away from his friend and walked slowly toward their apartment, the shaky feeling of adrenalin leaving his body and now all he wanted to do was sleep for a week.

“Come on man, don’t blame yourself.” But he could tell that he wasn’t hearing him, he knew Luke felt responsible for the old woman Brenda’s near-death experience.

“The stress from the fire, inhaling all that smoke, and probably partly you all contributed to her heart attack, you didn’t kill her Luke, she’s breathing, she will live to breathe another day because of you.”

Luke couldn’t hear him, the woman’s screams drowning out any other sounds to his ears, the look of sheer terror on her face and the way she writhed in his grasp before she ceased moving all together, and then the way she hung limp against his fingers. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t shake those thoughts and feelings from his mind.

“Luke!” He turned sharply to tell Matt to quit with the lecture already when he realized he had to look up at his friend’s face, currently staring squarely at Matt’s chest and definitely not the height he should be.

He let a tear fall down his cheek then, he should have expected this, he could feel himself feeling more and more down about himself, beating himself up until he felt raw inside. This is what he felt he deserved after all, after being a dangerous giant, he deserved to be weak and small now, at the mercy of large hands other than his own.

“Oh, Luke buddy.” Matt sighed, watching his friend slowly dwindle in height until he stood no taller than his ankle, at which point Luke collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands, large sobs wracking his small body.

Matt looked around the street to ensure no one else was around, everyone nearby was too busy focused on the fire and supporting the victims and witnesses of the event. He then knelt down in front of Luke and laid out a palm for him much like Luke had done for him only ten minutes ago.

“Come on dude, let’s get you home.” Luke crawled on hands and knees into the safety of his best friends warm and slightly sweaty palm. Matt had bore witness to his shifting abilities in all its forms and was well versed in handling his friend when he was this small.

Matt carefully raised Luke up to his chest and held him securely there, blocking him from view with his other hand from anyone who might walk by or look out their windows. All they would see was a hooded young man holding something to his chest, they would probably assume he’d been to a drug deal or something, but he didn’t care what they thought as long as he kept his friend safe.

Once inside the apartment, Matt asked Luke if he wanted to stay up and talk about what happened, hoping to raise his friends spirits enough for him to grow back but Luke only shook his head requesting to be put on his bed for the night. Matt reluctantly let him go, not wanting to push the issue any further before heading to his own bed.

That night both friends slept like the dead and Luke wondered if being a hero would ever become easier.

[hotchnerobsessed]

Expect The Unexpected - Part 1

@kihli this one is for you ♥️

Sarah x Reid + Fem!Reader x Hotch | When your best friend meets a cute guy at the book store, you accompany her to one of his work get-togethers and his boss sparks your interest.

Warnings: 🤭 SO MUCH FLUFF!

Word Count: 8149

NEXT

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

I don’t usually write stories for Reid, so here’s a little explanation! This is meant to take place in the mid-seasons, approximately 6-8.

**********

It was a typical winter evening in November, the wind whipping up bursts of snow making it next to impossible to see 2 feet in front of you. “Why am I going out in this?” Sarah huffed to herself. She already knew the answer; as much as it meant trekking through the bitter cold, it beat sitting at home alone while you were away visiting family.

You two had moved to Virginia together a few short months earlier, feeling the pull to make a drastic change in your late 20’s and early 30’s. The beautiful hiking trails, the vast job opportunities, the historical value it held, and not to mention the fantastic local food, is what drew you to choose Washington to call home.

Visiting home was something you two always tried your best to do together, but things just hadn’t worked out that way this time. Between work schedules, and family plans, your holiday trips home would have to be made separately this year. You’d felt guilty for deviating from the norm, and leaving without her, but Sarah had been more than understanding, insisting you take the opportunity to travel home while you could.

Aimlessly wandering the aisles of her new favourite book store, Sarah found herself scanning the shelves under large letters that indicated HISTORICAL FICTION. Her fingertips trailed across the spines of the books, skimming the titles hoping something might catch her attention. As luck would have it, something would, but it wasn’t any specific arrangement of letters scrawled across paper.

Always the girl to be hyper-aware of her surroundings, the addition of another person to the previously empty aisle she was standing in caused her to glance over. She felt her breath catch in her chest as she took in the side profile of a young man standing only a few feet away. It only took him a matter of seconds to scan the shelves, pull a book out, and begin skimming the first page.

She hadn’t realized she’d been staring, unable to pull her gaze away from his boyish features. He quickly looked up at her, a soft smile creasing the corners of his mouth, before turning his attention back to the book in hand.

In an attempt to pretend like nothing had happened, and move past any potential awkwardness, Sarah simply reached for the last book her fingertips had made contact with and pulled it off the shelf. Tucking it under her arm momentarily, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and typed out a quick message before focusing back on the book.

A few hundred miles away, you felt your phone buzz on the couch next to you. Picking it up, you saw Sarah’s name on your screen, accompanied by a frantic message.

📲 Cute boy at the bookstore just smiled at me. It was probably just a courtesy smile (I promise I wasn’t staring), but I’d put my money on he felt a deep connection, and we’re going to get married one day.

Giggling softly, you shook your head lovingly as you typed out a response.

Back at the store, Sarah’s eyes trailed across the cover of the book she’d just picked up; War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy. It was one she’d heard talked about, but had never found the time to read herself. Just as she was about to open the front cover and read the synopsis, she felt her phone buzz.

📲 I can hear the wedding bells from here! Ask him for a book recommendation 😉

Letting out a soft laugh, Sarah was about to type out a response of her own when she heard a soft voice beside her, “War and Peace is always the first book of Tolstoy’s to get recognition but I think the true artistry lies in The Prisoner of the Caucasus.”

Not even bothering to open the message and reply, she simply slid her phone back into her pocket as she glanced up at him. She was completely captivated by the warmth in his eyes and the cheeky smile on his face, and before she’d had a chance to respond, he was adding, “Did you know his real name is actually Count Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy?”

Shaking her head, she finally spoke, “oh! No, I didn’t. That’s kind of cool! I love fun facts like that.”

His face lit up; his head was full of fun facts.

As he continued to explain how the Russian author had settled on the name Leo and began his writing career, Sarah listened intently, taking it all in. She was utterly fascinated, not only by the wealth of knowledge, but by the excitement in his voice as he spoke. He was clearly passionate, and she understood that feeling of desperately wanting to share the things that brought her joy with the people closest to her.

“And what are you reading?” she inquired, motioning towards the book in his hands. As he turned the cover of the book slightly so she could see it, he was about to go into detail about the first 20 pages he’d already skimmed, but she cut his train of thought short, “WAIT. Have you already read THAT much?!” Her eyes were trained on how far into the book his finger was holding his place.

The blush that crept onto his face was clear as day, as he mumbled, “oh, yeah I uh, I can read 20,000 words per minute.”

Sarah’s mouth dropped open, “wow! That’s, umm, that’s really impressive!” He blushed yet again, that smile of his growing even wider, and her heart swelled at the breathtaking sight. “So are you some kind of genius, or what?” she asked playfully, a smile plastered across her face as well.

“Well,” he hesitated slightly, not from embarrassment, but from the nerves he felt welling in his chest any time he looked at her, “I do have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, so I’d say that’s an accurate assessment.”

Almost unable to contain the thrill she felt while talking to him, she just had to know his name. “I’m Sarah.” Her voice was quiet but firm, confidence rushing through her veins after the brief interaction.

“Spencer.” His voice was just as smooth and confident, even through the flustered smile on his face.

“Well Spencer, it’s nice to meet you.” The blush in her cheeks matched the one that consumed his at the sound of his name falling off her lips.

Logic told her she should be wary of him. The sad reality of meeting new people, especially men, was that their intentions were never clear. But with him, something just felt right. Like they’d known each other for ages. Like she could sit down with him and talk for hours on end. Like no harm could possibly come her way if he was around.

“Likewise.. Sarah..” He involuntarily hesitated when saying her name, his voice catching in his throat as fireworks lit up every corner of his mind.

She giggled softly, half from the butterflies that came to life in her stomach, and half from the flustered smile on his face.

It wasn’t long before she recalled the message from you, and the fact that he’d mentioned another book earlier. If only she’d actually been paying attention, instead of getting lost in his eyes. Now was her opportunity, and she couldn’t pass it up. “I’m sorry, but the, the other book,” she mumbled, “by Tolstoy, that you said you’d recommend over this one?” She lifted her hand, War and Peace still in her grasp.

“Oh! Yes!” He was clearly excited that she’d taken an interest in his opinion, and was eager to tell her more about it. Stepping closer to her, she couldn’t help but take note of the fact that he smelled amazing. And she couldn’t help but stare as his long fingers trailed across the spines of the books in front of her, the same way they had when he was picking out his own book. “Here!” With an excited smile, he pulled the book off the shelf and handed it to her.

Thanking him, she replaced the book she’d picked up earlier, and grasped the new one in her hands. Turning it over to the back, she skimming the synopsis. The story, based on the Russian author’s own experiences, was about two soldiers held prisoner by their enemy. Breathing deep, she looked up at him, “sounds intense.”

Spencer nodded, “it is. But the historical accuracy, based on the fact that Tolstoy was writing about his own trials and tribulations, makes it an intriguing read.”

She couldn’t get enough. Of his enthusiasm. Of his smile. Of his warmth. Now would be the natural time in a conversation with a stranger to thank them and bid each other farewell. But the thrill in her chest just wouldn’t allow her to move past it. With what she felt was bravery that could rival a gladiator preparing for battle, she spoke without a second thought, “I’d love to hear more about it, if you’d, maybe, want to join me for coffee?” She gazed over his shoulder in the direction of the small café in the front corner of the bookstore.

The true cause of the expression on his face was hard to read at first, as his mouth dropped open slightly and his eyebrows raised. She worried that she’d been a little too forward, and was trying to prepare herself for the conversation to come to an end.

Meanwhile, Spencer felt like his mind was short-circuiting, because it was so rare to find a person who didn’t try to stop his ramblings. Never mind a beautiful girl who enjoyed hearing him talk so much that she was voluntarily asking him to continue talking.

Just as Sarah was about to speak up, the slight shake in her head a dead giveaway that she was unsure of her request, Spencer broke the silence. “Would I ever! That would be great!” Glancing back up at him, the huge smile spread across his face was infectious, and soon they were walking side by side through the bookstore.

“So,” he inquired, “you didn’t have anywhere better to be on a Friday night?”

Giggling, she teased playfully, “I could ask you the same thing!”

Smiling bashfully, he glanced down at her, “you’ve got me there.”

Deciding he deserved a proper answer, she continued, “but no, not tonight. My best friend is back home visiting family for the holidays. The two of us love spending hours just wandering through bookstores, so I found my way here. I think it makes me feel a little closer to her.”

His warm smile tugged at her heart, “yeah, I get that. I don’t get to see my mom as often as I’d like to, so I’m always looking for things to keep her near me.”

The way his voice trembled slightly told her it was a touchy subject, so she simply nodded in understanding, not wanting to pry and ask for details. That was a conversation for another time, if there was ever going to be another time, and she hoped desperately that there would be.

After ordering their drinks, they made their way to the cozy seating area and chose a table for two. As they sat down across from each other, she couldn’t help but note the ease she felt with him. Any other day, talking to new people made her a little anxious, but there was an air of certainty around him that just made her feel safe.

She would come to find out later that he was thinking the exact same thing in that moment. Not one who usually put himself out there in social situations, there was just something about her, the warmth in her smile, and the comfort he felt in talking to her, that made him want to open up.

Diving straight into the book, he explained everything from Tolstoy’s childhood, to the history of the location where he was held hostage. Through it all she sat and listened intently, even chiming in every once in a while with her own tidbits of knowledge, and asking questions for him to expand on.

It didn’t take long for their conversation to shift to work and personal life. She found out that he worked for the FBI, in their Behavioural Analysis Unit, and that his title was Dr. Spencer Reid. Something about how official that sounded had her mind reeling. It also explained the comfort she felt around him; he made his living helping people, and protecting them from harm.

She filled him in on how it had only been a few months since you two had moved to the city, and how you hadn’t met many new people yet. His face lit up, “I don’t mean to be.. too forward.. but one of my coworkers is hosting a Thanksgiving get-together, and I think it’d be great if you would go. It’d be a good place to get to know more people. My team is amazing.”

Her initial excitement soon turned to hesitation for a couple reasons. She was unsure about meeting a large group of new people, in a new city, without you by her side. But she was grateful enough as it was that he had even asked, that she didn’t want to suggest bringing a plus one and overstepping his invite.

The delay in her response made it clear she was hesitant, and it didn’t take much for Spencer to figure out what the cause was. Speaking up once more, he extended the offer to you as well, “if your friend will be home by then, she’d be more than welcome to join, too!”

Her eyes smiled back at him, clearly surprised at how easily he’d been able to figure out exactly what she was thinking. “Profiler.. right.” she reminded herself; that was going to take some getting used to. “Okay!” She accepted the offer eagerly, “thank you so much, Spencer.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he cooed, that blush spreading across his face yet again.

They sat there and talked for well over an hour, until the speakers throughout the bookstore informed them that it would be closing in a short 10 minutes. Looking back at each other, Sarah was the one to take the first step, “let me give you my number. You can give me more details about that supper.”

Nodding his head excitedly, Spencer pulled out a small notepad and pen from his bag, and slid them across the table. It wasn’t what she’d expected, but the giddy feeling that gripped her chest made her feel like she was on cloud nine. How could anyone be so pure, so innocent, so genuine?

Picking up the pen, she scrawled her name and number across one of the pages, before sliding it back to him. As he glanced down, Spencer smiled wide at the tiny heart she’d added beside her name.

Standing from the table, they slowly made their way to the front doors, as Spencer offered, “can I walk you to your vehicle?”

Laughing softly, she admitted, “oh no, I walked here.” The surprise on his face made her laugh, as he looked from her, out to the still blizzarding weather, then back at her again. “A little snow never hurt no one,” she teased.

Shaking his head, a soft smile finally pulled at his lips at her joke, but he insisted, “well, then let me give you a ride home? I’d feel much better knowing you got home safe.” Not one who typically drove either, rather he avoided it when he could, something inside him earlier had told him that he should drive tonight. He’d never been so thankful for this stormy weather in his life.

Her eyes locked with his, a thrill running through her as they simply gazed at each other for what felt like an eternity. “Okay,” she finally agreed, her voice soft.

“Okay,” he repeated, equally as flustered.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

That night, after Spencer had dropped Sarah off at home, you two had spent an hour or more on a video call discussing everything that had happened. The thrill in your chest knowing your best friend had not only met a cute guy, but things had easily clicked, had your mind racing; you couldn’t contain the joy you felt for her.

“Yes!!” she squealed excitedly, “I could hardly believe it myself!! But he wants me, US, to go!!”

“The second I get home we’re planning our outfits,” you admitted.

“Oh don’t you worry, I’ve already got ideas. SO many ideas. It’s going to be difficult to pick just one,” she joked.

You laughed, “why does that not surprise me?"

Time flew by, and before you knew it you were back home and at your apartment, wrapping Sarah in a big hug. “I missed you!”

She squeezed you even tighter, “I missed you, too!”

As you filled her in on your eventful thanksgiving with your family, you both dug through your closets in an attempt to piece together outfits to impress. Sarah wanted something to catch Spencer’s eye, draw him in even more than she already had. And you just wanted something that you felt comfortable in; no ulterior motives in mind, but simply wanting to feel good in your body.

The couple outfit choices Sarah’d had in mind weren’t quite working out the way she’d envisioned, so you chimed in with a suggestion of, “maybe we’ll have better luck at the mall?”

She smiled wide at that, and in a matter of minutes you were browsing the aisles of the various stores. Each of you had a few options thrown over your arms and were making your way towards the change rooms when Sarah saw it; it was a simple dress really, the spaghetti straps sewn into the shimmery silver material that glittered beautifully under the display lights. Typically you’d have thought that dress might be too formal for a thanksgiving dinner, but Spencer had informed Sarah that it was semi-formal attire, and the home it was being hosted at was “a mansion.”

“A mansion?!” You could remember being shocked by that detail of the invite. That’s what ultimately lead you both to the mall, rather than choosing something you already owned; nothing felt right for that setting.

“Ooo you definitely have to try that on!” you encouraged.

She didn’t need to be asked twice, flipping through to find her size and adding it to her pile. Too excited to wait, it was the first thing she tried on, and the second she stepped out of the change room, your jaw dropped to the floor. “YES. That’s the one!!”

“You think so?” You could tell she was a little uncertain, the dress was tighter than ones she typically wore, and barely reached her knees. She wasn’t sure if it was too much.

Nodding your head profusely, you repeated, “yes! Absolutely.” With your hands on either side of her arms, you stepped behind her to look at her in the mirror, “you look stunning! Spencer won’t know what hit him.”

That finally got a smile out of her, and she nodded her head in shy agreement. “Okay.. Now it’s your turn!”

You laughed softly before slipping into a change room of your own. You went through a couple different combinations of the things you’d picked out until you found the perfect set. “I think this might be it,” you stated, somewhat nervously, as you stepped out from behind the curtain.

Sarah’s face lit up as she took in the way the maroon bodysuit-style top, patterned with subtle lacy flowers, was complimented perfectly by the high-waisted black pants. “1000% YES. It’s totally you!!”

Turning slightly, you glanced in that same mirror and couldn’t help the pride you felt at how you looked. You’d never been the kind of girl who got excited dressing up and going out somewhere, but something about this felt different. You felt hopeful, like maybe if you put yourself out there, especially knowing you’d have your best friend by your side, things might finally start looking up.

“Besides,” she added cheekily, “Spencer can’t be the only cutie the FBI employs. Maybe stepping out of your comfort zone will catch the attention of one of his friends.” She nudged your arm slightly, causing heat to rise in your face, and hope to swell in your chest.

Making your way to the front of the store, new outfits in hand, you made your purchases and walked arm-in-arm back to your vehicle. The excitement both of you felt at getting all dolled up and going for a fancy dinner was overwhelming, and you both willed time to move faster.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Before you knew it, the day had arrived. It was a brisk, but sunny day, and neither of you could contain your excitement. As luck would have it, you’d both had the opportunity to leave your jobs early, so you took full advantage of it, racing home to get ready.

After helping each other with the final touches on your outfits, assisting with the taming of a stray hair, or straightening out of eyeliner, or choosing between two sets of jewelry, you were finally ready to take on the evening. Glancing at yourselves in the mirror once more, you couldn’t help the smiles that creased your eyes, confidence rushing through your veins. You felt like no matter what, you could take on the world, as long as you had each other.

Pulling up in front of the address Spencer had sent to Sarah, both of your eyes grew wide, and as you looked at each other, laughter erupted inside the vehicle. You couldn’t believe just how gorgeous the house was.

“And suddenly I feel very under-dressed,” you teased, watching a couple walking hand-in-hand up to the front door, dressed to the nines.

“Hey, we look hot, okay?” she encouraged.

Nodding your head, you smiled, “you’re right.”

With that, you both hooked your arms in each others like you always did, and made your way up the front steps, and through the massive doors of the stunning home. You’d been told to just let yourself in, and as you stepped into the large entry way, you both looked around in awe, your arms dropping to your sides. Glancing at each other, you couldn’t hide the smiles that spread across your faces.

While you were busy taking in your breathtaking surroundings, you were completely oblivious to the fact that you’d caught the attention of a man in the next room. His dark hair was styled simply, pushed back from his face with a small amount of styling gel and his fingers. The button up shirt he’d tucked into his dress pants hugged his chest flawlessly, and the tie that hung around his neck pulled everything together.

Aaron hadn’t been invested in the conversation happening around him, as his eyes travelled across the room. That’s when you’d walked in, and immediately captivated him. The wonder and awe on your face brought a smile to his, and he couldn’t quite pull his eyes away from you. The way your hair fell across your shoulders, the way your shirt accentuated your curves, and the way your smile lit up the room.

He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to know your name. But he was unsure of how to approach you. He’d never seen you at any of these gatherings before, and he didn’t think he recognized your friend either. “Who is she? Where did she come from? Where has she been hiding all this time?” These questions plagued his mind; he needed to find a way to introduce himself.

He watched intently as Morgan made his way up to both of you. It didn’t take a profiler to see that he’d never met either of you before, but he was making his interest known. It wasn’t until Spencer made his way through the crowd towards you, his interest in your friend clear as day, that Aaron knew he’d found his way in.

Across the room, you and Sarah stood side by side, as a handsome man with a flashy smile walked up beside you. “Well hello ladies! I don’t think we’ve met. I know I would remember those beautiful faces.”

You were almost flattered, but you could both tell by the bravado in his voice, and the confidence in his words, that he’d probably used that exact line on other girls who’d arrived before you, and you were sure you wouldn’t be the last.

“I don’t think we have, no,” Sarah was the first to respond, reaching her hand out. “I’m Sarah.”

You extended your hand in greeting, “and I’m Y/N.”

Shaking both of your hands, he asked, “so what brings you here this evening?”

Before either of you could answer, Spencer appeared and Sarah’s eyes locked with his. “Sarah! I’m so glad you made it!” There was no ignoring the smile that spread like wildfire across her face at his greeting.

The excitement in his voice made your heart swell. Sarah had told you all about him, but actually seeing him in person, hearing how he spoke to her, and seeing the way he looked at her, solidified your approval of him.

Morgan snapped his head in Reid’s direction, eyes wide; of all the reasons he expected you two to be there, Spencer was nowhere near the top of that list. But it didn’t take long for the shock on his face to shift to one of pride. “Play on, player,” he teased, slapping his hand against Spencer’s shoulder. “Sarah, it’s been lovely meeting you.” He shook her hand once more. “And Y/N, maybe I’ll see you around later,” he added with a wink.

As Morgan stepped away, Spencer’s face was scrunched up with embarrassment, “I’m sorry about him.”

You both laughed, “he seems harmless,” Sarah admitted.

“That’s a level of confidence I wish I had,” you teased, causing both of them to laugh along with you. “You must be Spencer,” you turned your focus back to him, before adding cheekily, “Sarah has told me a lot about you.” Glancing over at her quickly, you noticed the slight blush in her cheeks.

You saw the way his eyes focused on her, a soft pink rising in his cheeks as well, before taking in the stunning dress she had on. He finally looked back up at you, “likewise, Y/N.”

You laughed at that, “only the good things I hope.”

Nodding his head enthusiastically, not quite picking up on your joke, he looked back and forth between you frantically, “oh yes! It’s all been good!”

Sarah’s smile grew, his boyish innocence made her feel all giddy inside. Laughing softly, she nudged you with her elbow, “she’s just teasing, you can ignore her.”

The relief on his face was evident, finally understanding it was your attempt at making a playful remark, and not purposefully trying to make things awkward.

“Well then,” Spencer spoke once more, reaching out his arm to Sarah, “let me show you two around, I’ll introduce you to the team.”

Graciously accepting his offer, Sarah tucked her arm under his. As they took a step forward, she turned her head back to look at you momentarily and you shared a knowing look; one that effortlessly conveyed her excitement, and in return showed her how impressed you were with his kind and gentle nature. Smiling at each other one last time, she finally turned her attention back to where he was leading her, and you followed close behind.

It wasn’t long before you’d seen the entire first floor of the house, and most importantly the kitchen, where rows of warming trays were set up, and would soon be filled with delicious catered food. You’d also been introduced to just about everyone on the team. Morgan said hello again, this time with Garcia glued to his side; you could tell she brought so much light to any room she was in. Rossi graciously welcomed you to his home, and Prentiss and JJ immediately made you feel at home in their BAU family.

“The only person I haven’t introduced you to yet is our Unit Chief, Hotch,” Spencer stated as he glanced around the large living room, “he’s got to be around here somewhere, he’s hard to miss.”

You and Sarah began glancing around the room as well, even though neither of you knew exactly who you were looking for. In your efforts, a tall man with dark features caught your eye. The way he smiled as he chatted with the person he was talking to made your breath catch in your chest; he was so handsome. Just as you were about to look away, he glanced over at you, and it was almost as if he knew you were there, as if he’d looked over specifically at you. A flustered smile graced your lips, but you were soon pulled from your daydream by Spencer’s voice, “there he is!”

When you looked back at the two of them, Spencer was completely unaware of the moment you’d just shared with the handsome stranger, but Sarah had seen it all play out. “That was some intense eye contact,” she whispered.

Raising your eyebrows at her in agreement, you both glanced up at Spencer who spoke regretfully, “he looks like he’s busy right now, maybe I can introduce you a bit a later.”

Sarah caught on before you did, so she asked her next question not-so-innocently, in an attempt to nudge you in the right direction. “Which one is he?”

Before Spencer could answer, she glanced from you, to the man you’d just been caught staring at, then back at you. Your eyes grew wide with realization, just as Spencer confirmed, “the tall one with the blue tie, and dark hair.”

“Noted,” was all you could muster.

This time, Spencer caught on to your flustered mannerisms. “Or we could go say hi right now, if you’d like.”

You shook your head in an attempt to brush it off, “oh no, no it’s okay. I’m sure we’ll run into him later.”

Spencer and Sarah glanced at each other knowingly, before agreeing to leave it alone, and for that you were thankful.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

As the evening went on, you mingled some more, meeting new people every few minutes in the large crowd. At one point in time, after the meal had been served and everyone had filled up on the phenomenal food, Sarah and Spencer had made their way to a quiet corner in the back of the house. You’d encouraged it, knowing she was there to get to know him better, and you weren’t about to stand in her way.

Thankfully, you’d bumped into a few now-familiar faces in your travels. Garcia had such a warmth about her, and you immediately felt yourself drawn towards her. She welcomed you with open arms and you found yourself spending most of the evening with her. At one point in time, she’d been talking to Morgan and JJ, when Morgan asked, “has anyone seen the boss man tonight? He’s got to be here somewhere.”

You waited, hoping someone who actually knew him would chime in, but no one did. Your voice was quiet as you spoke, “I.. I think Spencer said he’d seen him in the front room earlier.”

Everyone’s eyes were trained on you, and you immediately felt your face flush. You were sure you hadn’t said too much, after all it was Spencer who had pointed him out, and yet you still felt as if the gaze you’d shared with the handsome man earlier was written across your forehead.

Morgan spoke up again, “ohhh so you’ve met Mr. Large And In Charge have you?”

You were starting to get the sense that he loved saying things just to get a reaction out of people, and judging by the look on everyone’s faces, you were right. Apparently being new to the group didn't mean you were free and clear of his playful remarks.

“Derek..” JJ warned.

“What??” he feigned innocence, “you know he’s single, right?”

“Very subtle,” you thought to yourself, as a flustered laugh escaped, “and why are you telling me this?”

JJ stepped in again, elbowing Morgan in the side as she spoke, “no reason. Derek needs to learn to stop meddling in other people’s personal lives. Especially someone he's JUST met.”

You smiled at her in thanks. You weren’t overly bothered by his teasing, but it was a little awkward when you took into consideration the fact that you hardly knew these people. Not to mention the fact that you hadn’t even officially met him yet. But you decided not to let it bother you. If anything, it made you want to find him and get to know him even more.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Meanwhile, in a quiet corner at the back of the house, Sarah and Spencer had found a spot where they could simply enjoy each other's company. As he'd lead her through the crowd, her arm still tucked under his, he slowly lowered his hand and she followed his lead. In a matter of seconds, their palms were pressed together, fingers intertwined effortlessly.

The seconds their hands connected, Spencer’s mind went blank. Quiet. Calm. The most at peace he’d felt in years. There were no more nagging anxieties. No more fears of being seen for who he truly was. No more worries about whether he was too much, and yet not enough at the same time.

Sarah felt it, too. She immediately knew she’d never feel alone again. She’d no longer have to worry about past what-ifs, because none of them mattered anymore. None of them would ever be able to hold a candle to the safety and security she felt with him.

But was it too soon to feel this way? If you’d asked either of them mere weeks earlier, they would have told you you were crazy. Love at first sight wasn’t real. That was a thing of fairytales and Hollywood movies. Yet here they were, both feeling as if they held the entire world in the palm of their hand, and not being afraid to take that leap.

Standing next to the patio windows, the brilliant moon shining through the sheer curtains, her hand never left his. With their fingers intertwined, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “I’m glad you came tonight.”

Looking up into his kind eyes, a flustered smile pulled at the corner of her lips, as she admitted, “I’m glad you asked.”

Sharing a soft smile, unable to pull their eyes away from each other, time seemed to stand still. Knowing the evening would be coming to an end soon, Spencer knew he couldn’t just let her walk away; he couldn’t stand the thought of pushing his feelings down the way he usually did, risking another man sweeping her off her feet before he built up the nerves to. With his mind clear, he knew what he needed to do.

Gazing back at him, she wasn’t sure if she was afraid her emotions were written across her face too clearly, or if she was afraid it wouldn’t be clear enough. The fact that she felt such a deep pull towards him this soon was terrifying, but it was strangely refreshing. She felt like her mind and body were finally awake, after having hidden herself away from the world, in the bustle of moving to a new place and attempting to get settled.

Uncertain of whether anyone was watching, but uncaring if they were, Spencer slowly lifted his free hand to the side of her face. Gently brushing his knuckles against her cheek, he tucked her hair behind her ear, before gazing down at her parted lips. His eyes lingered momentarily, before he finally looked her in the eyes once again.

The slight nod of her head, combined with the fact that she’d moved her free hand to his waist, fingers grasping the soft material of his cardigan, was all the confirmation he needed. Slowly, patiently, he leaned down, anticipation building with every second that passed. With one final tug on his shirt, he finally connected his lips to hers, tender, and soft.

The first to deepen the kiss, Sarah let go of his hand, wrapping both of her arms around his waist and pulling him close. His hands both found their way to her cheeks, cradling her face gently, as he pressed his lips against hers with even more passion.

Spencer hardly recognized himself, how bold and confident he had been all evening, and now in this moment. She brought out the best in him, made him feel unafraid of being seen or judged; she made him feel alive.

Finally pulling away, not wanting to get too carried away to the point of being unable to stop, he exhaled deep, their lips only inches apart. He placed one more kiss against her lips, then one on the tip of her nose, and one last one against her forehead.

Sarah couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips. As their surroundings slowly faded back in, she gazed up at him through a bashful grin, wondering if anyone had witnessed their exchange, but ultimately being unfazed by the thought.

She spoke softly once more, “I’m really glad you asked..”

That caused a laugh to rumble in Spencer’s chest as well, as they gleefully pulled each other into their warm embrace, his chin resting flawlessly on top of her head.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Across the house, you stood alone not far from the entryway. You’d excused yourself from the conversation earlier, although thankful to be included, you didn’t want to intrude on the bond they all had with each other. You’d made your way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, your mouth was strangely dry after your nerves had got the better of you.

Glass in hand, you took small sips as you made your way towards the back of the house. Your eyes immediately recognized the sparkle of Sarah’s dress through the sea of people, and you couldn’t help but smile as you came to realize you’d caught the tail end of what was surely their first kiss. Your heart swelled as you saw him kiss her nose, then her forehead, before pulling her into his chest.

The joy you felt for your best friend left you with a strange mix of emotions swirling through your mind. You felt guilty for seeing their happiness and secretly yearning for your own. As you stood there alone, heart full of both happiness and longing, you were unaware of the man approaching you.

It was a strong, yet gentle voice that pulled you out of your daydream. “So you’re a friend of Spencer’s?”

Glancing up to the side, you were shocked to find the tall man with dark hair and blue tie standing next to you; the infamous Unit Chief of the FBI’s BAU. You’d needed a second to collect your thoughts, but you responded through a light laugh, “oh, uhm, well technically he invited me, but I don’t really know him that well. The invite was more for my friend.” You spoke as you motioned in their direction.

He nodded his head in understanding, “ahh I see. So how long have you two known each other?”

Smiling softly, you glanced from him back at Sarah and Reid deep in conversation. “It’s been, oh, 12 years now? But it feels like forever. She’s my person.”

A smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he followed your line of sight to where they stood. “It’s pretty clear Spencer sees something in her. She must be a great girl.”

Nodding your head proudly, your smile grew, “she is.” Turning your attention back to him, you inquired, “and him?”

A content sigh hugged Aaron's chest as he spoke, “he’s as genuine as they get. A little quirky, but it’s endearing.”

“I think we’re all a little quirky in our own way,” you added playfully.

Smiling down at you, his eyes scanned your face, and you couldn’t help the feeling that welled up inside you. That same eye contact you'd shared earlier was back, only this time you felt it in your bones, the proximity of your body to his making it hard to deny your attraction to him any longer. You could tell he was thinking the same thing, as his eyes lingered on yours a moment longer before he admitted, “you’ve got a point there.”

You couldn’t help the curiosity you felt towards him. The couple people you’d talked to said he was a great boss, but he was stern, and joked that he didn’t smile. You’d already seen him smile twice within a matter of minutes. Maybe these people just hadn’t taken the time to get to know him outside of work.

“So, Spencer said your name was.. Hotch?” you hesitated, unsure if you’d remembered correctly.

He laughed softly, “Hotchner, that’s my last name. But everyone just calls me Hotch.”

“Ahhh,” you sighed, “makes sense. No one ever calls you by your first name?!”

He could hear the surprise in your voice, but also detected the hint of curiosity in the way your pupils dilated as you asked the question. “Not often, no,” he laughed softly. “Let’s try this introduction again,” he spoke as he reached a hand out to you, “hi, I’m Aaron.”

A flustered grin spread across your face as you grasped his hand in yours. You felt electricity rush through your veins from the point of contact, as it coursed all the way through your body. His warm palm against yours, his fingers wrapped firmly around your hand, and his eyes trained on you, made you weak in the knees.

“Y/N..” you spoke softly, “it’s nice to meet you, Aaron.”

He couldn’t deny the thrill he felt at hearing his name fall off your lips. He was already so far in the deep end there was no use in even trying to swim back to safety. With his eyes locked on yours, he finally let go of your hand as he repeated, "Y/N.." his voice trailing off slightly, "well I hope my team has treated you well this evening."

A comforting feeling washed over you as you recalled the interactions you'd had. Yes, even the ones with Derek. "Everyone has been very welcoming."

"Good, that's good," he stumbled over his words slightly, and you could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he was holding himself back. He wanted to tell you that he thought you were stunning; effortlessly captivating. That he'd noticed you the second you walked through the door. That no one in the room compared to the beauty and grace you radiated.

Just as you were about to speak again, you were interrupted by the addition of two people to your conversation, “I see you’ve finally met Hotch!” Spencer’s voice rang in your ears.

Glancing over, you immediately made eye contact with Sarah, the smile on her face clear as day as she looked from you, up at him, then back at you. Biting your bottom lip to hide a smile of your own, you gave her a look of “not now..” and she rolled her eyes playfully.

The interaction between you wasn’t lost on the two men, as they both shared a knowing glance. That’s when you finally spoke up, “yeah, yes, I’ve officially met your whole team now.” You’d referenced the rest of the team in an attempt to not draw any more attention to the heat rushing through your veins.

“I can’t say the same quite yet,” Sarah added, reaching her hand out to Hotch, “I’m Sarah.”

Shaking her hand graciously, he nodded as he spoke through a smile, “pleasure to meet you.”

You all stood there and talked for what felt like an eternity, with the comfort of people who had known each other for years. You took note of how right it felt to be standing there, just the 4 of you, talking about life. It was all very natural, like fate had brought you together. Younger you would have laughed at such a preposterous thought, but you couldn’t ignore that the gut feeling you’d had in that store a week earlier, the one that told you to put yourself out there, had maybe been right.

As the conversation slowly died down, Sarah finally admitted, “I think we should maybe get going, don’t you think Y/N? I know you have to work early in the morning.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall that you’d been oblivious to until now, you were thankful Sarah had been paying attention. “You’re right, it is getting a bit late.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed that the evening was coming to an end; you’d truly enjoyed meeting new people in a city you were still growing into. You could only hope that this wasn’t the last time you would see everyone, and the way Spencer rested his hand on the small of Sarah’s back as you all made your way towards the door washed those worries away. This was only the beginning.

“Well thank you, Spencer, for inviting us to join you all tonight. We had a wonderful time.” Sarah glanced at you, and you nodded in agreement, before she looked back up at the boyish grin that creased his features.

“Thank you for coming! Both of you!” The excitement in his voice was clear as day.

Smiling at Spencer once more, you finally turned your attention back to Aaron, who had joined in the venture towards the front door. The way he looked at you told you that the connection you’d felt wasn’t one sided, and the thought made your stomach jump into your throat. You found yourself unable to speak, so he did first, “it was great meeting you.”

Your voice was shaky as you responded with a simple, “you too.”

Only a couple feet away, Spencer had both of Sarah’s hands held tight in his grasp, “you have my number. Please let me know when you get home safe.”

A soft, “I will,” was all she could muster.

With one final look shared between them, Spencer brought one of her hands up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss against her knuckles. You and Aaron, who had both caught the tender moment out of the corner of your eyes, smiled wide.

With your final goodbyes being shared, Spencer gave both of you a little wave, before you turned and pushed open one of the large doors, immediately linking your arms together. What neither of you had seen before the door closed, was the look that Spencer and Aaron shared; pride welling in Aaron’s chest at the confidence Spencer was finally showing, and Spencer smiling slyly at the sight of his strong, private, boss all flustered.

“Soooo..” you prompted, “how was the kiss?!”

Sarah blushed immediately, “oh my God, you saw that?!”

You laughed, “you were in the middle of a crowded room! Lots of people saw it.”

Bringing her hand up to cover her face, she let out a tiny shriek of excitement, “I might almost be embarrassed, except it was SO GOOD.”

Grasping her hand that was tucked around your arm, you squeezed it tight, “better than you imagined?”

Groaning dramatically, she admitted, “SO much better.”

You giggled along with her, the excitement you felt for her consuming your mind. “Good!! I’m so happy for you!!”

You’d reached your vehicle by now, and as you both climbed into your seats and you started the engine, Sarah turned to face you. She leaned on the center console eagerly, “and..” she teased, “you and Hotch?” a cheeky grin plastered across her face.

Heat rose in your cheeks as you thought back to the interaction. Swallowing around the tightness in your throat, you informed her, “Aaron..”

“WAIT. You got his first name?!” she squealed.

All you could do was nod, still unsure if you were ready to let yourself dive deep into this new crush.

“I told you,” she added, “the FBI was bound to have a cutie for you, too.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Tag List: @ssamorganhotchner ; @ccristata ; @anlin2058 ; @sannunah28 ; @hotchgirlsummer ; @red-red-rogue ; @chibsytelford ; @hannahufflepuff ; @mrs-ssa-hotch ; @ivyflowers13 ; @rousethemouse ; @emobabeyy

[flower-seeks-the-moon]

fandom: love bullet

relationships: tamaki aki/sakurada koharu

characters: tamaki aki, sakurada koharu

words: 4026

Read on AO3 or below this cut.

It's been a month since the accident. She still can't taste anything, makes her mother weep after she shovels her favorite hamburger steak in her mouth without a word.

The first year is always the hardest, the school-mandated therapist tells her. Tamaki Aki hardly hears it, kicking her legs back and forth as she stares at the clock on the wall. Tick, tock, tick, tock it goes. Time is cruel, she realizes, on one of her sessions as she continues to fixate on that piece of cogs and wheels and batteries. Tick, tock, tick, tock, it goes. Every single second carries her farther and farther away from Koharu.

One day, Tamaki Aki will wake up and see an adult woman in the mirror. Will she see Sakurada Koharu beside her, fifteen forever?

Millions of seconds later, she's supposed to have moved on with her life, her father tells her over breakfast. Someday, you won't even be able to remember the specifics of your conversations. This is supposed to be a well-meaning comment, but what do grown-ups know about grief? They can hardly even bring themselves to talk about bringing her to a doctor. Aki leaves the table and is sick all over the toilet.

Her mother yells at her father, but the thought has taken root in Aki. It grows into a thorn, one that's lodged deeper and deeper inside her chest the more she holds on to Koharu.

Approximately 157 million seconds, she calculates over neglected math homework, remembering study sessions spent well into the night; scattered snacks lie abandoned across her desk for her mother to yell at her about later, Koharu's lashes fanning across her cheeks as Aki watches her friend drool all over her notebook.

Her homework has piled up so much that her parents fret that she will be held back for a year. Maybe that's a good thing, remaining first year because Koharu will be always be first year and every year that Aki moves up she'll share less and less things with her best friend-

She had so much time. Why did she wait for so long?

White chrysanthemums turned up on her best friend's desk for three months.

Flowers left by the grateful couples, those who Koharu gave so much of her time and effort to. Asaka and Hiroshi, holding hands in front of her. Asking her to place the vase for them, as if Tamaki Aki is the protector of Sakurada Koharu's memory.

She tries not to look at their interlocked fingers. Under the numbness, the grey that overtook her everyday life and seeped out all the color - the soft pink of cherry blossoms, the fresh pale green of spring; Koharu, ah you took the season with you and left nothing for me - there is an ugly red feeling that she couldn't dare name.

Why these people?

“Place them there yourself,” she says to the most recent pair to walk up to her. Aki has never been the nice one between the two of them. She grabs her belongings off her desk, shoves them into her bag. “I'm not her keeper.”

Koharu had been more the class's than she had ever been Aki's. This is the truth. Giving so much of herself to these juvenile crushes and their silly little relationships. Puppy love that probably wouldn't even last past high school. And for what?

These guys probably won't even grieve for you the way I will. They'll move on to the next best thing, give or take a few months.

Koharu would be disappointed in her, Aki knows. But she's not here to be dismayed at her best friend's lack of empathy, is the problem, isn't it?

That girl is more in love with the concept of love than interested in being loved herself. Isn't it grand, that she didn't even get a slice of the pie she set out for everyone else? Because Aki is too slow, with her horrible timing and lack of consideration for time and place and she's truly the one at fault but it's easier to hate others, to lay the blame at their feet, than to confront that she's the problem-

Easier to be mad at Koharu. Easier to look at the world and spurn her best friend's idealism than to reach inside herself and yank out that ugly pulsating mass of rage, and grief, and regret, and realize that the world will keep fucking turning! The sun will rise every morning and Aki will go to sleep every night, asking herself: why did she choose that moment to tell her?

Why did Koharu look more at these other kids than look at her?

“What are you doing,” she says, flat and monotone. She doesn't recognize this girl with the fluffy hair, standing alone in front of the desk.

The girl smiles faintly at her, inscrutable dark eyes unmoved by her stare. What was her name, again? Some transfer student. Aki can't tell if it was before the accident or after. Time doesn't mean shit to her lately.

“Placing flowers?”

They're not chrysanthemums this time. The delicate white camellias are something new.

Aki scrambles for the meaning, never having been one for hanakotoba, before she gives up. What's more interesting to her is that this girl is all by herself. No starry-eyed girl or boy by her side, no shallow gratitude in those sleepy eyes.

“She was more than just her matchmaking skills,” the nameless classmate says again as she caresses the petals. “Sensei said that she'll remove any new vases soon, since the class needs to move forwards." She eyes Aki's white-knuckled grip on the edge of her desk with mild curiosity. There is no pity in her face, and that's the only thing that keeps Aki from snapping out. "I thought I'd take the opportunity before that happens. You should too, Tamaki-san.”

The next day, the entire class is abuzz over the riot of colors on Sakurada Koharu's desk. Freesias, red spider lilies, yellow tulips, zinnias. One of the girly girls who knows a lot about flower arrangement comments that it's such a bewildering message, as if the sender doesn't know whether they resent or adore Koharu.

Two girls lock eyes across the lively classroom. Kanna, surname unknown, smiles as Aki grips the book of flowers tight under her desk.

In her dreams, it's not blood that stains Koharu's uniform red. In its place are countless red flowers, spilling from the hole left by a piece of rebar. The same bright petals spill from her best friend's lips as she opens her mouth, endless like the grains of sand in the hourglass that Aki took for granted, up until she realized it wasn't so limitless after all.

I can fix this, Aki presses her hands over the hole. Koharu's hand hovers, lonely and ignored in favor of stuffing those red blossoms back where they belong. I can fix this, I can fix this.

Before she died, Koharu had mouthed something to her, lips quickly losing their warmth and color before she even had a chance to experience her first kiss. And Aki doesn't catch it. Doesn't catch it over the static ringing in her ears and the shouts of the useless, useless construction workers and adult bystanders who watch as a high school student's world is torn out from under her feet.

So this time, Aki doesn't take her hands. She presses down on that gaping hole, plucking up the flowers and pushing them back inside. Despite the roughness of her 'first aid', Koharu doesn't wince or cry out.

She simply looks up at Aki with those dreadful kind eyes, lips moving and that same static noise pouring out.

What did she say?

Aki tries to fill in the gaps, to guess, but what's the point of it all, really?

I love you too?

She'd rather that Koharu be alive and with her. Fuck reciprocation, Aki can live with her unrealized and unfulfilled love if it meant waking up to walk to school with Koharu.

If it meant she can watch the sunset paint that face in gold and imagine what it's like to kiss her, if it meant wondering forever, then that's fine? If it gives her more study sessions where she gets to drape a blanket over those small shoulders, sweep those stray locks of hair from that face, and silently shut the study lamp off. If it lets them have more days where she can watch Koharu press an ice-cold can of coffee, fresh from the vending machine, as they both bemoan the heat of summer and Aki watches the stray drops of sweat trickle down that dear face and wonder what it's like to taste the salt of her skin.

I'll take back what I said, okay? You don't have to stand there looking so shocked, now move-!

Or maybe it's something else that Koharu said. Maybe-

I regret pushing you out of the way. Why do only you get to survive, Aki-chan?

Maybe she regrets hearing those words from Aki, being that moment of distraction that cost her everything. This is why Aki needs to fix things, needs to be a better person, needs to stop being so bitter and mad at the rest of the world.

If she becomes as kind as Koharu, to take up the kindness that was snatched from the world before it truly had a chance to shine, would she be forgiven? It's going to be difficult.

She's not a sweet person, she hears that often enough from her father, from her mother's chiding that she needs to temper her personality, be more like Koharu-chan, and she knows that she'll be a shallow substitute.

Six months in, her therapist puts her in art therapy.

To the surprise of many, it actually seems to work. Aki's room quickly fills up with paintings, each canvas a snapshot of their lives before the accident, painted in colors that she chose. Most of the subjects are Koharu, which had her parents murmuring among themselves in consternation more than once until the therapist takes them aside. It wouldn't have stopped Aki, either way: there's a desperation that underlies every brushstroke. A quiet determination to commit that face to a canvas, before her own memory begins to fail her.

Not that it's going to fail easily, since she still has those photos framed on her study desk. But those photos aren't enough, were never enough because Aki remembers better than anyone else what it looks like when Koharu is laughing.

Koharu as she blushes sheepishly under the admiring gazes of their classmates, Koharu in one of her rare pouty moments after her best friend teases her, unaware that Aki is this close to kissing her. Koharu's dark hair and the pink cherry blossoms that fell upon it during hanamatsuri as Aki resolves not to tell her about them. Koharu, Aki's name on her lips as she waits for her after school.

Because her skills are not enough to capture them and give them the justice they deserve, Aki ends up in the afterschool art club.

Hiroshi blinks at her as she introduces herself to the rest of the club members. She feels nothing when Asaka pops up behind him, more surprised than anything that the other girl has taken up painting as a hobby.

It takes weeks before someone approaches her. Despite her new resolve, it's still fresh in everyone's memory that there's an empty spot beside her in the shape of a person. They no longer talk about Koharu, but their eyes still flicker to the side of Aki as if expecting someone there.

"Tamaki-san?"

Her hands still, paintbrush held aloft. "What is it?"

The sound of footsteps, drawing closer to her place in the corner of the classroom. Two familiar faces.

She tenses as they all stand together.

Her canvas as always features their late classmate, this time of Koharu during Tanabata. Aki's having trouble capturing the fireworks just right, making the colors pop against the dark of night while making Koharu stand out just as noticeably. She needs it to be right, needs to remember all those times every year where they walked hand-in-hand, stall to stall.

Didn't Koharu suck at the goldfish catching game? Aki decides that's something for her to paint, later, but first she needs to get better-

"I know what you can do with this," Hiroshi says, soft-spoken as always. He smiles at Aki. "Would you like to paint together with us, Tamaki-san?"

It gets easier to respond, when she has an example to live by. "I'd like that."

She's forgotten what it's like to be held. Her mother and father have done their best, it's not their fault; Aki never takes them up on their offers, looks away from her mother's spread arms to hurry into the silence of her room where her brushes and paints wait for her. After his out-of-touch comments, she hurries past her father rather than sit down with him in the living room to watch TV together.

Her paintings have only grown in number since she joined the club, but no one sees past Aki's growing skill. If they do, they take it as inspirational, as if it's not just Aki vomiting all her feelings onto a canvas and hoping that everything will be okay sooner.

For a while, it works.

And then springtime rolls around, bringing with it all the cherry blossoms and the discussions of hanamatsuri. The shallow, patchwork job she's done with her heart falls apart again. It's worse this time. She stumbles into the new school year with bags under her eyes, barely hidden with a touch of concealer, her lips only having life to them due to a dab of colored gloss.

Why did she call all of Koharu's customers shallow?

Asaka's a surprisingly comfy hugger. She doesn't move when her winter uniform grows damp on one shoulder, her arms a solid anchor around Aki. "We've got you," the taller girl says. "We've got you, Aki-chan."

No one's called her that, since Koharu. But has she ever allowed anyone to get close enough to her for endearments? Aki doesn't know.

Better for them not to be close to her, after the horrid job she's done with Koharu.

Later, as Hiroshi walks into the classroom and presses a ramune bottle into her hands and her eyes have somewhat stopped leaking like a damn faucet, Aki asks a question.

"Why are you so nice to me? I acted like you were nuisances around Ko-" Her throat closes up. She pops the bottle, looking down at the marble floating inside. Once, they had tried to remove it. One marble still remains in Koharu's room, somewhere on her desk, unless it's been thrown out.

Aki hurriedly abandons that train of thought. Taking a long swig of her drink, she savors the cold soda, the faint sweetness on her tongue. Summer's just around the corner. Her first summer without… "Around her."

"Tch, you weren't that bad," Asaka leans forward against the back of her chair. "I kinda was able to tell that everyone was taking away your time with her." She pops her own ramune open.

"I didn't own her time." She can accept this now. "Koharu's time was her own."

Hiroshi adjusts his glasses. "Aki-san. After everything that Koharu-san did for us, we wanted to repay her kindness with kindness. And you needed it more than anyone else."

No one's surprised when she bawls again, moments later. Asaka holds her tight, a solid warmth. It's nothing in comparison to the feeling in her chest, enough to make her dizzy as a mix of love and grief and joy and relief pours out of her eyes and tumbles through her blubbering mouth.

"I can't go on without her…!"

But is there really a without?

Koharu touched people's lives. She's not gone. She's there in the kindness that people pay forward, like the cherry blossoms that spread through the wind in spring. In Asaka and Hiroshi's gentle gazes, the touch of her best friend lingers, only two among the many that got a chance to experience love thanks to a certain girl.

And that's fine. She'll reach far away places, scattered into so many pieces that Aki will see her everywhere. In the wind and in the water, in the freshly fallen snow of winter as people huddle close together for warmth and survive each brand new day together.

"Hamburger steak in the morning? Mother, you're spoiling me." Aki grins as she sits at the table, hearing her mother's laughter spill like golden sunlight and warm honey. She breathes it all in, holding the feeling close to her chest to bolster her for what's to come next.

The first bite of her favorite tastes amazing on her tongue. For the next few minutes, she takes her time to savor her breakfast.

Reaching out to ruffle her hair, her mother crinkles her eyes at the corners. "It's a big day for you, isn't it?" There's a hint of worry in the lines of her face. "You'll call us if you need anything, right, Aki?"

Aki swallows, before she replies. "Yeah, I will." She understands why her mother is worried, but it's going to be fine. Taking one hand into hers, she presses her cheek against her mother's palm. She holds it there for a heartbeat before she lets go. "Thanks, Mom."

After finishing her meal, Aki heads out. Summer break is time to be outside, to complain about the heat as she breaks a twin popsicle and holds out the other half to a friend. But first, she has an agenda. At a certain waiting shed near an intersection, a tall and athletic girl and her bespectacled boyfriend wait. She mustn't take too long, a pep in her step as she passes by other people her age.

No one is alone today, people clustered in groups or pairs. Neither is Aki.

"Ready?" Asaka asks. She's grown even taller, if possible. One would almost think she didn't, since Hiroshi hit a growth spurt recently. The two of them stand at almost the same height, nowadays. "Our first stop's a flower shop, yeah?"

"Yeah." Aki pats her shoulder bag. "I've got the money for a good bouquet."

Hiroshi sighs. It's real weird to see her nerdy classmate out of school uniform. "What do you take us for, Aki-chan? We're pitching in, too." He nudges her shoulder gently. "It's got to be from all three of us."

Chuckling, Aki shakes her head. "About that…"

The bouquet is even more outrageous than the vase Aki once left on Koharu's desk. She had heeded her classmate's requests, but it results in an arrangement without any sense or cohesion to it. Only once she's chosen all of their suggestions does she pick anything out for herself. Violet, zinnia, white egret, forget-me-not.

As she lets Hiroshi pay at the cashier's, she caresses the petals, reminiscing on the year she's had.

"Our classmates can be pretty cool, huh?" Asaka murmurs, not expecting a reply. "Didn't think the class pres and treasurer saved up for this."

Aki laughs, shaking her head. "We couldn't have afforded the out-of-season flowers without their help."

"True, that. Though Mirai probably would have wanted us to be pickier." They both snatch a look at the riot of color between them, and snort. "Yeah, I thought not."

"Koharu would like this better," Aki says. Clumsy earnestness would catch her more than a curated image ever could - Koharu's always been sharper when it comes to understanding the subtleties of other's feelings.

A ridiculous bouquet with everyone's feelings smushed together?

She can imagine the reaction. The blushing, the stuttering, the flustered glimmer in those eyes that would have tempted Aki to tease her more. Or, well, kiss her. What face would Koharu make? She would never know, she could only guess.

A year later, and the torch she carries still hasn't died. It burns, slow and steady, a lighthouse in the dark for Aki to find her way back to.

It still stings sometimes, thinking these thoughts. The what-ifs, all those could-haves. But that's just how it is. You learn to grow around the empty space that someone leaves, you learn to make it a part of you. Maybe she could have timed her confession better, maybe she could have done it sooner.

But these are questions that aren't meant to be answered, and Koharu would fuss over her in the afterlife if she knew the circles that Aki's thoughts would run in - if there is any afterlife.

These are simply the truths that she's learned to live with.

They hit the convenience store next, leaving with cold barley tea, an assortment of snacks comprised of riceballs and shortcake and some of Koharu's favorites. It is a simple trek to the cemetery, afterwards.

Asaka brings the incense. They light three sticks up first.

"Hey, Koharu. I'm sorry I wasn't able to make it for your birthday," Aki begins. "Spring had been… Rough." She feels a weight fall upon her shoulder, Asaka's hand squeezing briefly, and smiles. "You don't have to worry, though. I can imagine the face you're making at me right now. Well, don't."

Her gaze flickers to Asaka, on her right. And then to Hiroshi, on her left. "Do you remember Asaka and Hiroshi? They're here with me, right now."

It's almost nostalgic to watch Hiroshi execute a perfect 90-degree bow. Didn't he bow like that last year, to thank Koharu? "Hello, Sakurada-san. We came with Tamaki-san today to talk to you and hang out. I hope that we're not intruding…"

That night, she dreams of Koharu. For once, there's no red petals fluttering in droves from her stomach and her mouth. Her mind has stopped trying to bargain; blood drips freely from the corner of that chin, spreads and unfurls like flowers in the fabric of that uniform. With how many times Aki has run the scene through in her head, this hardly fazes her.

"I like you," Aki says again, more than a year later since she first said those words. They still ring true. She doesn't know if there's an end to it. "I have, for a long time now."

Since middle school, or perhaps even earlier, she's been in love. It occurs to Aki that she'll love Koharu for far longer than they'll ever know each other. "You had no idea, but I could have said something instead of relying on your intuition. I'm sorry for teasing you about that." She laughs, warmth suffusing her cheeks. "But you were just so cute even when you had no idea."

Koharu takes a step closer. Aki meets her halfway, hand coming up to grasp hers. She entwines their fingers the way she's seen Asaka and Hiroshi do, draws her ever nearer.

"I think I was afraid," Aki confesses, lowering her lips by Koharu's ear. Despite the blood that flows ever on and on from Koharu's wound, the dream is kind and lets her cheeks and ears flush red like she never bled out on that afternoon back in 2019. "I'm a pretty lame and selfish person, Koharu. It didn't seem fair to put all that on you."

She watches those lips move. Even now, she can't guess at Koharu's last words.

So Aki doesn't try. She instead tilts Koharu's face up, drinks in her blushing cheeks and shining eyes. The blood on her lips tastes more like salty tears than copper, her shocked breath mingling with the sob half-caught in Aki's throat. It takes a moment, but shaking fingers reach up to tangle in her hair, far bolder than Koharu would have been.

Their first kiss happens in the land of dreams, where all the could-haves and what-ifs are allowed to flourish in a world much kinder than reality.

Tamaki Aki wakes up.

She rises with the sun, grabbing her paints and her brushes first thing in the morning, and gets right to work. And for the first time, the subject of her painting isn't Sakurada Koharu.

Author's Note:

The meanings of the flowers, according to hanakotoba:

white chrysanthemum - truth, but in this situation they were used for mourning/grief

white camellia - waiting

freesia - childish, immature

red spider lily - we will never meet again

yellow tulip - one-sided love

zinnia - loyalty

violet - honesty

white egret - known as sagiso in Japan, means I'll think of you even in my dreams

forget-me-not - true love

Anyway. I'm not sure if this will remain canon-compliant as more volumes of Love Bullet come out, since Inee-sensei might have more in store for Aki and Koharu. But I hope that you enjoyed, if you read through all the way to the end.

First posted on AO3 on November 13, 2024.

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Pride Month Character Sexuality Headcanon Moodboards 1. Yasmine - Lesbian 2. Demetri Alexopoulos - Gay 3. Moon - Bisexual 4. Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz - Bisexual

Next up is everyone's favorite Demetri Alexopoulos-obsessed slightly evil predatory bird boy, Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz! Unlike with Demetri, I am fully aboard the Bisexual Eli Express. Justice for bi guys!!! We need more in media because it is in fact sexy and valid to like dick AND boobs!!!

Now, quick disclaimer that there is not a single mlw Eli ship that I personally fuck with in the least. I've been pretty loud about the reasons for my immense distaste of H*wkM**n, and could in fact write a 20 or so page essay on why they're one of my all-time NoTPs if prompted. Furthermore, my first impulse upon seeing any other female character paired with Eli (or...really, any character who isn't Demetri, or possibly Miguel in extremely specific circumstances) is to keep said pairing approximately 491263844976 feet away from me. BUT, despite my personal feelings of revulsion upon seeing Eli paired with anyone who isn't his soulmate Demetri Alexopoulos, I fully believe Eli is bisexual and that there's plenty of textual evidence to support this!

So let's dive in!

The first thing that comes to mind is how Eli vents to his mom in the 2x05 flashback about how he's "never going to get a girlfriend." Granted, as I've mentioned in some other posts, high school dating is often more about social status (i.e. being seen as "desirable" enough to get an SO makes you more popular) than genuine romantic attraction. BUT Eli voicing his concerns to someone he clearly trusts more than most people indicates to me that he wants a girlfriend more than just for show--he's attracted to girls.

I have a friend who since moved on from the fandom who did autistic analyses of Eli, and pointed out that he's often uncomfortable with eye contact. Pre-Hawk, the only two people we see him make consistent eye contact with are Demetri and his mom. This seems like a pretty good indication that these are the two people he trusts the most, and can most honestly "bare his soul" and be himself around. Another reason I think his vent to his mom about worrying he's never going to have the experience of dating a girl has authenticity to it. I can't compare this to Demetri's interactions with his mom, unfortunately (and it's a damn shame!!! I demand to see Ms. Alexopoulos in S6!!!), but I can say for certain that Eli has expressed wanting a girlfriend from a (presumably) vulnerable and honest place, while S1 Demetri only ever seems to do so performatively.

As previously established, there is no bigger H*wkM**n loather than I. I make no secret of this. HOWEVER!!! I feel like it'd be naive--and maybe even dumb--to pretend that there isn't at least some physical attraction there. Granted, they're definitely emotionally incompatible in a way I wish the show had the balls to actually address (like how the fuck is a pacifist gonna last in a relationship with a dude who loves fighting more than just about everything else lmao), but I can buy they find each other physically (and probably sexually) attractive. Moon basically says as much when she's dumping Eli in S2! They very much strike me as one of those teenage couples who are all over each other 90% because of hormones. I'd say the main difference between them and Dem and Yas is that the performative aspect doesn't seem to be there. While Dem and Yas feel like they're putting on a show, it seems like Hawk and Moon really were just that horny.

So throughout S2, we see Hawk treat Moon in kind of a possessive way, and more as arm candy to make him look good than as her own person (yet another reason I am such a Hater lmao). Despite this, he spends so much time in S3 and S4 moping over her and pining for her that I do think they had somewhat of an emotional connection, even if it was pretty surface-level. I still think their relationship was mostly based on looks and social status, but him being that hung up on winning her back (a frankly unhealthy thing that should not have been narratively rewarded btw) instead of just moving on to some other hot girl who'd give him the time of day indicates that Moon was more than just a beard.

So like. I feel like if you weren't convinced that Eli has feelings for Demetri, you wouldn't be reading a post written by tumblr user demetriandelibinaryboyfriends XD But to briefly summarize: Eli spends much of the show shooting Demetri Yearning Looks and being the only one amused by his antics. Even when they're falling out, Eli is borderline obsessive about harassing Demetri when he could just ignore him and focus on his Cool New Karate Friends. He often seeks Demetri out in fights in a way that feels pretty damn fruity. He's pretty physically affectionate with Demetri, and never seems to mind when Dem is physically affectionate with him (to the point of near cuddling in S4). This is...unusual for teenage boys, to say the least! Oftentimes even the straight ones are so terrified of being perceived as gay that they're super stingy about all but the most "no homo" type of physical affection. The fact that Dem and Eli pretty liberally put their arms around each other and give each other little gestures of physical affection makes me think that they've been in a homoerotic friendship so long that they like. Don't even realize it comes across as kinda gay??? Like Miguel and Demetri are physically affectionate too, but it's much more casual and doesn't feel as intense.

Also worth a mention that Eli is literally simping for Demetri so hard that he joins Demetri's karate dojo right after being terribly traumatized and deciding to quit karate. Why??? Because Demetri said some encouraging things to him, cuddled him on a couch, and basically confessed his love by being like "hey I'll always care about you no matter how you wear your hair or what name you go by." This man is whipped as fuck. His actor basically confirmed he won the championship for Demetri! And lest we forget, the final push that got him to betray the dojo he'd previously devoted his entire life to--also led by a dangerous war criminal sure not to take betrayal lightly, might I mention--was seeing Demetri in danger. Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz is in fact Down Bad.

So I'm not a big fan of the migu/eli ship for reasons I don't want to get into here, but imo it's completely possible Eli had feelings for Miguel at some point (I just don't think they were ever reciprocated because Miguel is in love with Sam!). He definitely idolizes Miguel and puts him on a kind of "coolness" pedestal that feels like it could easily be romantic. He also gets so obsessed with avenging Miguel that he breaks the arm of the other guy he has a crush on, so...there's also that!

Come to think of it, there are actually some really interesting parallels between the Miguel/Eli and Moon/Eli relationships. Both are kind of a case of Eli getting really enamored with this idealized idea/concept he has of a person and getting so wrapped up in that that he has a fundamental misunderstanding of and neglects the actual person's wants and needs. Hence why he's so confused when Moon and Miguel tell him they don't want him in their lives if he's going to be an ass--this isn't how the doe-eyed ever-adoring hot girlfriend and stone-cold, super aggressive badass bestie he built up in his head were supposed to react! Why are they acting like independent people with agency who don't conform to the versions of themselves in Eli's fantasies???

(This is also why I think Demetri's the healthiest and most sensible romantic partner for Eli btw. Eli doesn't idealize and borderline deify Demetri the way he does for other people he has feelings for/seems to have feelings for. He's known Dem so long that we can reasonably extrapolate any feelings that developed were based in the Demetri that was actually there, and not a fictional version he built up in his mind. In fact, it almost seems like Demetri knows Eli has a tendency to do this and won't let Eli project an untrue version of Demetri onto the real guy. That might be why Demetri staunchly refused to change himself to go along with Eli's karate shenanigans in early S2--he was basically saying "I am who I am, and I refuse to become this impossibly glorified image you're projecting onto me." And I can't blame him--I actually get really annoyed when people try to put me on a pedestal, and will often go out of my way to break their illusion that I'm whatever perfect, wholesome box they try to shove me in XD Bottom line being that between Moon, Miguel, and Demetri, I think Demetri has the healthiest relationship with Eli because it's, at the end of the day, the most honest and doesn't hinge on any untrue and unfair projections.)

At the end of the day though!!! The fact that Eli is able to separately idealize both a guy and a girl and both in a pretty romantic or romantic-coded way is pretty damning proof to me that he is in fact bisexual! Look, not all bisexuals process their feelings in healthy ways okay aiksjuuhfkdhg

He dyes his hair ALL THE DAMN BISEXUAL FLAG COLORS. And on the order they're on the flag, too??? Red (S2 - S3) to purple (S4) to dark blue (S5)??? Fucking wild. If this was a fanfiction I would joke about it being too on-the-nose, BUT NO. THIS IS CANON MATERIAL IN THE SHOW.

Okay, I'm sorry, but. NO non-queer dude dyes his hair bright-ass colors like that. Red or blue maaaaybe, but PURPLE??? NO. Straight men simply do not dye their hair purple. Like speaking as an LGBT I'm here to tell you that in the community, brightly colored hair (but especially more "flamboyant," girly colors like purple or pink) basically a signal that says "hey, I am also queer!" ESPECIALLY if you're a dude. Straight girls dyeing their hair bright-ass colors is more common, but I have never known a single straight guy to. And that's because it's associated with being gay af.

Also I can't tell you the amount of times they've put this dude in bisexual lighting. The ones I can think of off the top of my head are S2 Valley Fest and the S3 arm break, but I'm sure there are more I'm forgetting. Demetri is there both the times I mentioned. Hmmmm.

Took some liberties with the bisexual flag in this moodboard to better fit Eli's vibe...and also like. These are literally the three colors he dyes his hair in canon. I had to XD

I'm still not over that btw aksjdkhuef like it's so bisexual it's PAINFUL

I really like how this one came out <3 Hopefully I was able to capture the full scope of technonerd, avian motifs, and that one S3 angerboi I-want-to-punch-everything-and-everyone arc!

Btw the top middle picture is just supposed to be neon fire because our boi is Fiery™️, but then I realized it...kind of also looks like a mohawk??? So kudos to me for the accidental character accuracy XD

Okay so. Would you believe I have several more of these that I didn't have the chance to post? ^^; I uh. Guess I'll have to make July Pride Month 2.0 and post them then XD This is what happens when I'm too overambitious in my shitposts, eh?

As always, pic credits available upon request!

[saiilorstars]

Ch. 20: One’s History

[Story Masterlist] // [Aitana’s Masterlist]

Fandom: Criminal Minds // Pairing: Spencer Reid x OFC

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​​​ @arrthurpendragon​​​ @anotherunreadblog​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​ @averyhotchner​​​​ @foxesandmagic​​​​

If you’d like to be a part of Aitana’s taglist, please let me know!

Aitana peered out the conference door and quickly whirled away when she saw the last of the team coming through, her wide eyes a sign that she'd nearly been caught.

"Who you see, spicy sprinkles?" Morgan was smiling with bemusement as the brunette hurriedly made her way to her seat beside Penelope.

"Just Prentiss, Hotch and Rossi," Aitana said, "And, uh, I don't know about anyone else but does it seem like Prentiss is a bit...unusual?" She had tried her best to ignore the subtle signs, mind her own business as she often said to others. She didn't know Emily enough to know if what she was seeing was truly unusual for her but in the end, her concern got the best of her.

While nobody answered her straightaway, Aitana was skilled enough to notice the subtle shifts in the others' faces. Penelope was the only one who didn't know how to hide her agreement. Seaver being the only one who was completely in the dark, looked around much like Aitana had. Before anybody could answer her, because Aitana was sure that Morgan had a thing or two to say, Hotch strode into the room with the others.

"Let's get started," he quickly said as they gathered around.

"Alright," Aitana cleared her throat, slightly flustered when she saw Emily. Her last intention was to talk behind people's backs-that was so high school and Emily didn't even deserve that. "Okay, so Molly Grandin, 25 years old, has been missing approximately 24 hours." Penelope flicked on the television behind them. "Her car was found abandoned in a strip mall parking lot."

"Syracuse police chief just called me to tell me that 4 months ago another woman, Gail Langston, also 25, went missing," Hotch remarked, letting everyone know how the case truly landed on them.

Penelope switched the pictures around to show the first victim. "Gail's body washed up 3 days later in Onondaga Lake. She'd been held captive, her hands and feet smashed, and then she was stabbed to death."

"Her car was found in the same parking lot as Molly Grandin's," Hotch said.

"Other than abandoned cars, what makes them think it's the same offender?" asked Emily.

"Umm, both women packed a bag with enough clothes and toiletries to last them for the weekend, and in both cases, the bags were found in the car along with their purses and cell phones," Aitana explained. "Which means that if the unsub is sticking to the same M. O., Molly only has 36 hours left."

"Let's go. The plane awaits," Hotch said, prompting the others to start gathering their things to leave.

~ 0 ~

As soon as the plane took off, the files were opened and discussions began. As far as they knew, and that Penelope knew, there was no connection between Molly Grandin and Gail Langston.

"But that doesn't mean they didn't have much in common," remarked Aitana. Her file remained closed on the table between her, Emily, Spencer and Seaver. She'd already gone over it extensively after Hotch presented the case to her. "Take a look at their school records." Spencer hummed in agreement beside her. He was already doing that.

"It's in their way of being too," Seaver remarked, though it appeared she hadn't meant to based on her widened eyes.

Emily, who sat beside her, nudged her to keep going. "What's the first thing that jumps out at you?" she prompted.

Seaver took another look at the photographs in front of her. She knew it wasn't Emily's intention to put her on the spot. She had to learn and Emily had been kind enough to make herself her overseer. "Um, their body types are both small, but it's not just physical. They both shy away from the camera and clearly don't enjoy being photographed. Both easily overpowered and controlled." Everyone around them seemed to agree with the comments which made it easier for Seaver to breathe again.

From her seat, Aitana half-smiled at her. She understood the feeling.

"Well, at 25 they'd be much older than most undergrads at S. U," said Rossi, roping the subject back to what Aitana had originally mentioned.

"Aitana was right, their college transcripts are littered with incompletes and missed semesters," Spencer said, closing his copy of the file.

"It can tie back to their backgrounds," Aitana said, leading Morgan to speak up about that.

"They're both from blue-collar backgrounds with no scholarship. Must be hard to keep up while working a full-time job. So going to a private school could have been worth it for appearances' sake."

"If the unsub met them on campus, he could be another student," Seaver tried her hand at another deduction.

"He may not be a student. He might be an employee," Hotch said. "Janitorial staff, security. Uses a similar background to bond with the victims."

"They both packed bags to go away with him for the weekend. That trip's romantic," Rossi pointed out. "Yeah, he's not just getting to know them, he's dating them."

"Well…" Aitana sheepishly cocked her head to the side, soon earning all eyes on her. "I've done my fair share of road trips in the past. It's not always romantic, Rossi. Based on what was found in those bags, there's nothing really that screamed 'romantic getaway'," she made a gesture with her hands. "To me, it looked more like a casual roadtrip with a friend."

The others took in her perspective with nods, definitely leaving that up in the air as they went further through the case.

~ 0 ~

While the others went off in their respective assignments, Aitana was left to handle the sorting of which family members to contact from the two victims.

"Hey," she heard Seaver come into the conference room. She brought coffee for the two of them. She was a little embarrassed to admit that she didn't really know how to help in these moments. She wasn't yet equipped to go out in the field and moments like right now where Hotch instructed her to stay put left her feeling even more like an outcast.

"Oh, thank you," Aitana grabbed her cup and took a sip. It was slightly stronger than what she was used to but, not wanting to make Seaver feel bad, she said nothing about it.

"Is there anything you need?" Seaver asked, cautiously slipping into the seat beside her.

"Umm, not really," Aitana shrugged her shoulders. "I'm just going through the victims family members, deciding who to give a call."

"They're interviewing Molly's ex-boyfriend right now," Seaver said.

"Yeah, but I don't really think he's the guy. I've read the reports," Aitana leaned back in her chair for a moment. "His whole lifestyle reads incompetent to pull off such an elaborate scheme here."

Seaver nodded. "You seem really good at this for someone who's kind of new," she remarked, eyes widening slightly when she realized how her comment could be taken. "I mean...not that I would expect you not to—"

Aitana chuckled. "Don't worry. I have my moments, bad ones too. If you'd been here right at the start, you would've seen how I was during my first press release."

"But it ended well," Seaver said, remembering the story that Morgan had told her not too long ago. "How you made everybody see that the unsub might not have been dating them was really good, especially when you suggested that the romantic getaway could've just been a regular road trip."

"Honestly, stuff like that just comes to me sometimes," Aitana shrugged, almost flustered with the praise. She was really still learning and she was always honest about it, perhaps too much sometimes. "It really is just experiences and believe me when I say that my experiences haven't always been the best."

Seaver's smile was wry when she responded, "You know what my experiences were like."

Aitana nodded, her smile saddening when she remembered the flashing headlines she would read back in her college days. "As dark as those times were, use them to make something good now. I mean, they hurt you so you might as well find something useful about them."

Seaver's expression said she had already tried that. "It doesn't always work. I feel like what I went through is just my pity story, you know? It's why I changed my name. Nobody would take me seriously if I had my father's last name. My experiences would be disregarded."

"Not here," Aitana said plainly. She looked around and of course there was no one else in the room with them. "You know, before I came here, I was in Witness Protection. I actually met these guys 6 months into the program. That whole case ended up with me being kidnapped because I was stupid and I wasn't even able to thank them for saving me afterwards. Everything that I had to go through in that case, everything that I went through that got me into WPP in the first place, was all swept under the carpet when I was shipped out to another location. It had to be for my own survival."

Seaver's eyebrows knitted together as the shock of the story fully etched over her face. "How long were you in the program?"

"Almost 3 years. You know the massacre in D.C.? The lot of D.A.s and judges? I was there, and I saw things…" Aitana shuddered, "All of that was terrible and I had to live like I wasn't always thinking about it? Like it never happened, because I had to think about myself and my survival. The criminals who were responsible knew that I was a witness and they wanted to kill me. I had to live for almost 3 years always looking over my shoulder."

"That must have been terrible," Seaver said. She couldn't decide what was worse then, living in paranoia or living with the entire truth out for everyone to judge and ridicule you.

"It was," Aitana nodded. "It messed me up, it's still messing me up, but I am taking baby steps." She smiled lightly. "Just ask the others. Baby steps to reconstruct my life, to...become a good liaison and a good profiler. I'm learning and understanding that I won't always get things but I'm also learning to be proud of myself when I get things right...just like I did in the plane."

"That's a really good mentality," Seaver remarked. "I really hope I can learn some of that."

"Baby steps," Aitana reminded, making Seaver smile.

"Right…"

"Baby steps. It works," Aitana promised. Seaver would have to take her word for it in the meantime.

As it turned out, Hotch returned from the interview with a clear opinion that Molly's ex-boyfriend was absolutely not their unsub.

"But he was abusing her," Seaver said, still holding onto Molly's file that she'd reread several times that afternoon.

"He's not sophisticated enough for this," Hotch stood in front of the evidence board they were beginning to build. Aitana had already posted the two victim's cases, of course Molly's was more extensive. "Rossi's interviewing Molly's father as we speak just to cover our bases but there's very little chance that Lyle Donaldson is the unsub."

"So where does that leave us?" Aitana gestured to the evidence board that didn't exactly contain as much as they would need.

"We'll need to be more extensive, starting with the familial interviews."

"I've already lined up Gale's family for tomorrow," Aitana moved back to where Seaver sat to gather up a few of her notes she left. "As far as the records say, Gale's mother and brother seem to live perfectly normal lives. Father died a long time ago. If they answer me, it'll most likely be honest."

"Hopefully," Hotch said, making her repeat the word in a sigh.

Spencer and Morgan were the only ones who had a major breakthrough in the case. The unsub was most likely a woman.

"So that getaway really wasn't really romantic," Seaver glanced at Aitana with an even more impressed face than before.

"There weren't any romantic clues left inside the bag," Aitana shrugged. She'd read over the items found in the two bags and nothing spoke of a date.

"It would also explain why there was no sign of sexual assault," Morgan said, "With an unsub this obsessed with control and power, it's usually part of the territory."

"It also coincides with what Gale's house had," Emily pointed her pen towards the evidence board that now held the pictures of Molly's home. "It looked like there was a female living in the other bedroom in Molly's apartment."

"But there was no record of her having a roommate," Hotch said. That was something they would've been told in the preliminary details. "So Molly must have wanted to keep it a secret for a reason."

"And she left in a hurry," Emily said, describing the state of the second room she'd looked around in.

Spencer strolled into the room with the details of their findings tumbling from his lips. "So, neighbors did see a woman coming and going from Molly's apartment over the last few months, but nobody saw her close enough to get a sketch."

"And let me guess, no one met her?" Rossi smiled out of sheer unsurprise.

Spencer agreed. "The best description we got was white female, mid-20s, light-brown hair, plain."

"All right, so we need to start over, go back over both Gail and Molly's cases and look at everything from the perspective of a female unsub," Hotch declared when all seemed lost. "Serrano, bring in Gail's family and ask about the women in her life. Prentiss, you and Seaver go back over to Molly's apartment. Find out what else she's hiding."

"Uh, actually," Aitana awkwardly raised a finger, a matching nervous smile resting on her face, "If it's not too much of a problem...I kinda want to visit Molly's apartment. Emily said there was a motto on the mirror?" She glanced at Emily for some affirmation.

The woman nodded her head. "Today I do, tomorrow I will," she repeated the bubbly note she'd found on the mirror in Molly's room.

"That's an affirmation and, uh, it's not a stranger to me...if you understand…" Aitana deliberately looked away from everyone until somebody would get what she was trying to say. Sometime after leaving WPP, she may have tried affirmations herself. The only question was if she'd done it on her own or with professional help.

~ 0 ~

The next morning, Aitana, Emily and Seaver headed for Molly's apartment to recanvass it. Aitana worked her way into Molly's bedroom and was surprised by how many affirmations covered the walls. She drifted towards the vanity desk, its mirror's frame completely covered in affirmations.

"She really was overdosing on daily affirmations," Seaver's remark startled Aitana into turning around. Seaver immediately flashed her an apologetic smile.

"Yeah, saying you're happy isn't the same as being happy," Aitana mumbled and turned back to the mirror, a big mistake given how Seaver could see Aitana's face through the mirror. She saw the grimace that fell over Aitana's features.

Even Emily saw it when she came into the bedroom. "There's nothing personal in the other room," she said, half intending on getting Aitana to look away from the mirror. She got the feeling that the more Aitana studied the affirmations, the lower her mood would be for the rest of the day. "Whoever she was, she left nothing of hers in the room."

"But not Molly's," Seaver pointed out as the room was very much intact. Most of the clothes were around, personal items…

"What if the Unsub turned the tables and asked Molly to come with her?" Aitana suddenly asked. She walked towards the bookshelf that was pretty much stuffed with books. "Like a-a getaway from home?"

"That's possible," Emily shrugged, "But then why would the unsub take her own things? That would've tipped Molly off."

"Not if she came back for everything else after actually kidnapping Molly," Aitana plucked a few books from the spine to catch sight of the titles. So far, each of them had been some sort of self-help guide.

"Hey, look at this," Seaver said from the foot of the bed. She'd found a journal underneath, one that was deliberately stashed away. "It's a diet journal."

Emily neared her side to skim over the pages. It was very detailed with what Molly ate each day. "Let me call Garcia," she whipped out her phone. "See if her spending reflects a disorder."

"Good morning my cherries!" Penelope exclaimed.

"Hey Garcia, can you look up how much money did Molly spend on food every week?"

Penelope popped the answer straight away. "30 bucks a week at the grocery store. Thai food every Friday. Yikes, she is worse than me! $8.00 a day for coffee."

"Can you go back a couple months?"

"Yeah. Back then the spending tells an entirely different story of the unhealthy sort. Lots of drugstore purchases, fast food places. Only a few dollars a week at the grocery."

"Carrots and hot sauce," Seaver remarked.

"And then 17 bucks at McDonald's."

"Binge night."

"Anything else in the journal?" Emily asked from Seaver.

The blonde shrugged. "It's intense. She recorded not only what she put into her body but what came out. Calories expended during exercise, and she weighed her bowel movements."

"Anorexia/bulimia," Aitana concluded with them and checked the shelves of books again. They made a lot more sense...as did the affirmations on the mirror.

"The last entry is 10 weeks before she disappeared," Seaver said, then called upon Penelope, "When did her spending change?"

"About 3 months ago. She got a membership at a yoga studio and started paying for cooking classes."

"A guide," Aitana said suddenly, heading back for the mirror. She cocked her head as she reread every affirmation again.

"What's that?" called Emily, having half a mind to pull the agent away from the mirror.

"A-a life coach," Aitana snapped her fingers. "We should find out if Gail Langston had a similar pattern before she was killed." She started plucking the daily affirmations from the frame, knowing that they'd already been pictured before, and headed out of the room leaving behind two puzzled agents.

~ 0 ~

As soon as Gail's family had been interviewed, Aitana made sure to bring the information over to the conference room. Unlike Spencer who had covered a white board with endless lists of potential origins of the affirmations, Aitana preferred to lay the actual affirmations on the conference table along with the titles of the books she'd found in Molly's room. She'd mixed in the affirmations that Gail would use as well.

"I'm still thinking it's a life coach," she murmured, though it was unclear if she was just speaking to herself. "A fake or not, but they could've believed it…"

Spencer glanced over his shoulder to see her rounding the table. She'd been doing it all afternoon as well as talking to herself which was why he didn't comment. He of all people knew that everybody had a different way of thinking so he wanted to give Aitana the same consideration he expected from others. Plus, she was always helping him out during his thought processes.

And it may have been nice to have someone around doing relatively the same things he was. Usually it was just him doing the puzzle breakdown. Aitana did love puzzles, after all.

"They weren't seeing a therapist," she was talking to herself again, "But Gail's family said she only spoke about expelling negative thoughts or visualizing her truth." She raised her head then, catching Spencer looking at her. She paused her train of thought. "What?"

He blinked and quickly shifted his gaze to the white board where he should have been staring at in the first. He felt a heat rush up the back of his neck out of embarrassment. "Nothing, sorry, you were just…"

"Was I talking out loud?" She scrunched her face. "I do that a lot when I think...like this…" She made a gesture towards the table covered in 'puzzle pieces'. She stuck a fingernail between her teeth. "I do it all the time with my puzzles at home. Angel doesn't like it very much."

Spencer awkwardly cleared his throat. "He, uh, doesn't?" He turned around to see her shaking her head.

"He says it's annoying," she shrugged, looking unperturbed like she was used to it. "And weird."

"It's not," Spencer assured her, leaving behind the whiteboard for a second. "There's actually a misconception when it comes to the idea of talking to yourself. It's mostly because of how it's portrayed in the media. Usually it's always the weird characters talking to themselves but there's plenty of studies that proves self-talk actually helps the brain perform better."

"Really?" Aitana eyes him suspiciously. "Or are you just saying that so I don't feel like I'm weird."

Spencer nearly rolled his eyes. "You are not weird." She should leave that to him. He was always called weird. "There was one study that had participants reading instructions following through with them. Those who read the instructions out loud had a higher concentration and better task performance in the end. They were able to focus better and their end result was much better than those who didn't read out loud." Aitana's eyebrows raised with curiosity. Spencer came around the table to stand beside her, now gazing at everything she'd set up. It was well organized with even her own notes on the side. She had perfect handwriting in comparison to his chicken-scratch on the board (and every other paper he wrote on). "Talking out loud is a sign of high cognitive functioning."

Aitana side-glanced him with a teasing smile. "Are you saying I'm super smart? Because I would definitely take that to heart coming from you," she chuckled.

Spencer should know better than to take that remark as anything beyond what it was, a simple remark, yet his face felt incredibly warm again. Aitana's soft laugh helped ground him again—when did he leave the ground again?

"Hey," Emily's call helped solidify his grounding. She and Rossi were coming into the room. "How's it going?"

Spencer strung back into action, taking a stride back to the white board. "Today I do, tomorrow I will" doesn't seem to have a particular source or author. It's found in pretty much every self-help book—I read 22 of them today—all touting the same basic 3-part plan."

Emily folded her arms over her chest. "Let me guess, phase one is positive thinking, visualizing goals."

"That's to work up the courage to get to phase 2—taking real steps to achieve said goal," Rossi took his own guess which was perfectly correct.

"Gail committed to school, got grades like never before and Molly gave up her obsessive food journal and started eating better," Aitana remarked, "That had to be done with more than just motivational sayings. I would know. I didn't read those 22 books Reid did this morning but I did over the course of the last 2 years." She purposely avoided their looks at her revelation. When she felt at her lowest after leaving WPP, she sought out every possible solution to help pick herself up. That included some mediocre self help books. "Some people can benefit from a book alone but others-" maybe like her, "-need more."

Emily agreed there. "Maybe that's why the unsub moved in with them. She could offer support and encouragement day and night. She'd be around to watch Molly's diet or Gail's study habits."

Rossi nodded. "At first her methods worked. She gets to be the hero, the savior. She's a pure narcissist, so helping her victims is only about gaining their appreciation and dependence. The more her victims gain confidence, the less they need a full-time cheerleader. And that's when her motivational plan goes completely off the rails."

"Phase 3 is normally about maintaining the tenets of the program independently," Spencer tapped against the white board, right over the 'Phase 3' title. "But her program doesn't end. She holds them captive, destroys them physically."

"She's the motivational speaker from hell," Aitana gazed down at her table. This woman was a psychopath in the making.

~ 0 ~

The profile to be delivered was one of those rare types that held more exact information. Every detective in the room took dutiful notes while the team described who they would be looking for.

"We're looking for a white woman in her mid-20s, most likely blue collar and local to the Syracuse area," Hotch said. "She probably has a job that puts her in the role of caretaker, such as a masseuse, a nail or hair stylist, personal trainer."

"Women feel comfortable opening up to her about their personal lives, revealing details about their insecurities that she later uses to manipulate them," Aitana spoke just a bit strained. It was hard not to feel a special type of anger towards this woman taking advantage of people who were at their lowest.

"Do you think she tries to pass herself off as a therapist or a counselor of some sort?" One of the detectives inquired.

"That's doubtful," Rossi answered. "Her narcissistic personality wouldn't allow her to listen to anything that didn't revolve around her for more than a few minutes at a time."

"It's hard to learn anything when you always need to be the expert," remarked Morgan.

"We don't think she's capable of getting a degree of any kind," Spencer clarified.

"Wouldn't she need some kind of certification for the jobs you're talking about?" The same detective rightfully wondered.

"She would, but she's a master manipulator. She probably talked her way into many jobs before they realized her credentials were fake."

"So check gyms and spas, salons, yoga studios for employees fired in the last 2 years," instructed Hotch. "We need to I. D. this woman as fast as possible if we want any chance of finding Molly Grandin alive."

~ 0 ~

When Rossi took another go at Molly's father, it was revealed that both women had been to the same hospital for treatment.

"Garcia, both families released their daughters' medical records. Have you gotten access to those yet?" Emily asked as soon Penelope had answered their call. Aitana, Spencer and Seaver all crowded around the phone on the table.

"Yes!" Penelope exclaimed. "Both women went to the same hospital but for different programs and at different times."

"Maybe the unsub works at the hospital?" Seaver suggested, thinking it was one of the few logical reasons.

Aitana had to shake her head. She didn't think the woman would go in that route, much less be able to. "Even if she conned her way into a job, I doubt she'd last long enough to get close to patient files."

"We were off on our profile," Spencer decided the more he thought things over. "She doesn't find her victims by chance like we thought. She hunts them."

That was a game changer, leading Emily to ask, "Garcia, does Syracuse General keep their surveillance footage of the entrances and exits?"

"Oh, in this age of black market pharmaceutical drug trade, you betcha. I can get you that!"

Emily's cellphone rang in her pocket. "Excuse me," she said very quickly when she saw the ID on her screen. Her leave was almost a sprint.

Aitana and Spencer watched her leave with similar looks of concern and curiosity. They could see her through the window (not a very good hideout for her) having a conversation that somehow involved her checking her phone screen for a second. She was all types of fidgety which wasn't like Emily at all. As soon as Emily was done, she happened to glance at the window. Aitana and Spencer quickly dove their attention to the same desk. When she returned, they only focused on the incoming security feed that Penelope had for them.

"Now, Molly and Gail had different doctors, but both went to Syracuse General pharmacy. Assuming they were stalked, you know, 10 to 14 weeks before their disappearance, I went ahead and started with footage from when they went to get refills, which falls right into that time window. " Penelope explained as they saw the first victim, Gail, walking down the pharmacy hallway. "Behold-Gail Langston, July 3rd. See that woman a few steps behind her with the large cup of coffee?" Indeed there was a brunette woman following not too far from Gail, the latter completely in the dark about it. "Check this out. A few weeks later, there she is again. The same woman is following her. Creepy."

"Wait a second…" Aitana leaned closer to the screen, eyes squinting as she got a better look at the woman, "Is she...is she wearing the same—"

"Scar as Gail?" Penelope finished for her. "Yup!"

"Did this woman follow a similar pattern when she was stalking Molly?" asked Emily.

Penelope dramatically groaned. "You guys are ruining the ending! Here's Molly and the stalker on November 8th." Sure enough, the same woman was right behind Molly...with the same handbags. "What do you know? She went shopping. They're carrying identical purses. And then 15 minutes later on their way out…" Molly and her stalker walked side by side in conversation.

"So she stalks them, copies them, and uses it to strike up a conversation," Spencer concluded.

"We need to ask the families if they recognize her," Seaver said, glancing specifically at Aitana. The brunette agreed and went to start that task before they would leave the precinct.

~ 0 ~

Later on, when Hotch practically ordered them to go to their hotel and rest, Aitana and Emily decided to take the first shift.

"The families are going to be coming in tomorrow morning," Aitana was saying as their elevator opened up to leave them on their room floor. "Hopefully one of them will recognize the woman."

"Wouldn't stop us if they didn't," Emily offered her an encouraging smile. She'd been doing this for far too long.

"I hope we catch her soon," Aitana's jaw tightened the more she thought about the unsub. "It sickens me that she's been manipulating these women. As someone who went through something similar…"

"It makes things personal," Emily nodded, understanding her completely. She'd had her own cases like that, perhaps even right now.

Aitana stopped by her room door, eyes falling for a second. "I tried that whole daily affirmation thing for a while," she confessed. "I thought maybe repeating them to myself each day would make a difference but...it didn't. All those self-help books...nothing worked."

"Everybody has to try their own solutions," Emily said, resting a hand on Aitana's arm. "Not everything is going to work for everybody. The important thing is that you found something that worked."

"Did I?" Aitana laughed lightly, and quite humorlessly. "Because every now and then I have my moments…"

"That's normal," Emily assured.

Aitana had to remember that constantly. She met Emily's gaze, the latter seemingly becoming distant even in the middle of a conversation. It certainly wasn't Emily. "Are you alright?" Aitana found herself asking. She'd already tried that once and it didn't work out. Time was passing and nothing seemed to be getting better with Emily which only made Aitana even more concerned. She needed to ask because maybe, just maybe, Emily might confide in her and she would be able to help.

Emily, however, nodded her head. "Of course, just tired."

"But—"

"Have a good night," Emily was quick on her toes and left before Aitana could even finish her question.

With a sigh, Aitana had no choice but to go into her own room and forget about whatever was troubling her friend.

~ 0 ~

By morning, Molly's ex-boyfriend had gone missing with only his car left to be found in a parking lot where both victims' cars had been found. Neither family of the victims had recognized the potential unsub, leaving the team with little to work with again.

"She's got Lyle too," Emily said, having no doubt about it. "She's too obsessed with power and control to work with anyone, especially somebody like Lyle."

"He's dominating and violent, just like her," agreed Morgan. "If anything, she sees him as a threat. But why take him now, with all this heat?"

"She's not done with Molly yet," Hotch concluded, moving around the conference table and using the landline to get ahold of Penelope. "Garcia, Dr. Weingold at Syracuse General sent us an extensive list of female patients in their mid-20s that match our profile. She's most likely local, raised by a single parent or in foster care."

Penelope was right on it. "Ok, narrowing it down!"

"This unsub likes familiar places. Look for extended family or previous addresses," added Spencer. "Did any of them grow up near Onondaga Lake?"

"Ok. Wait, wait. Here's one that might fit. Jane Gould!" Penelope said, leaving a slight pause to follow as she no doubt pulled up the woman's record. "Her grandparents had a house near Maple Bay, which is where Gail's body was found."

"Are they still alive?" asked Rossi.

"No. They died when Jane was in middle school."

"There's a possible trigger that could've manifested throughout the years," remarked Aitana. "Are the grandparents' house currently occupied, Garcia?"

"Yeah. Water and power all paid up."

"That's the one place she got attention from a parental figure. She feels at home and in charge there," Aitana deduced and judging by the looks from the others, she wasn't that far off.

"I'll send you an address. I'm calling up her photo right now," Penelope said but a few moments later, she was panicking. "Oh, lord. Oh, lord. This is her! This is the creepy stalker woman from the surveillance video!"

"Bingo," Seaver mumbled under her breath. At least now they were sure of who they were going for.

In a short amount of time, the team had gotten ahold of Jane's files from her doctor.

"So Dr. Weingold opened Jane's files. She can't release details, but she said there honestly aren't many," Penelope started going through the file, "Jane never admitted to being a cutter, let alone what triggered it. She started acting out after she lost her grandparents. Arrested for vandalism, removed from 2 foster homes for destruction of property."

"Desperate attempts to get attention," Seaver concluded, "Is that why she started cutting, another cry for help?"

"Cutting is about control, similar to anorexia. It's common in teenage girls who feel like they have no control over their lives," Aitana said, once again going back to her original deduction, "Her grandparents' deaths were probably the trigger. The loss of parental figures at such a young age turns your world upside down."

"There's a lot of pain, but no outlet," Morgan agreed. "No one's in charge."

"And both Molly and Gail can relate to that," Aitana once again felt the sickly feeling in her stomach. Jane manipulated both of them. "Jane used them to convince herself she's important. More than that, she thinks she's a selfless savior. What a b—"

"Serrano," Hotch cut in, startling Aitana.

The woman quickly looked down, face flushed with embarrassment. She couldn't let the case be that type of personal for her. For that matter, she would watch herself as they went to Jane's home.

It was a cabin-like home that was empty of anybody except for Lyle's corpse. Jane killed him not too long ago."

"After a confrontation like that, she'll want to go someplace familiar, someplace she feels in control," Emily said as the group left the cabin.

"What was around here again?" Morgan asked, and Aitana headed for the car to gather their map again only for Spencer to know the answer on the spot.

"A lake!"

Aitana stopped in her tracks and turned sideways, playfully rolling her eyes at him. "How about I call Hotch to let them know we're going to the lake?"

Spencer, none the wiser about her, merely nodded his head. "Yeah, thanks!"

They piled into the SUV and drove for the lake as quickly as they could. On the way there, Aitana called in the precinct for more backup. If they weren't fast enough, they might end up searching for another corpse.

"There, there!" Emily was suddenly shouting in the passenger's seat, pointing ahead as they were coming up to a bridge.

Morgan came to an unceremonious stop, barely avoiding an officer's car in the process. They quickly scrambled out of the car and looked below to the lake. Jane was holding Molly's body in her arms, about to let her body drop into the lake. Hotch and Rossi were already on the scene below trying to coax Jane into letting Molly go.

Suddenly, Molly whacked Jane and made an attempt to swim for it. Two officers went for the water and managed to grab Jane before she could reach for Molly.

"We need to get Molly to the hospital now," Aitana said, not waiting to hear anything else and simply rushing down for the lake. She saw to it personally that Molly was taken care of and brought to the hospital. Only then would she be able to call it a day.

[pursuingheavenonearth]

Is it time for a 'radical' change? Maybe not.

by 

David Lewis Brooks

My bare feet, photo taken June 2023 on the steps of Hostal Casa de Huespedes San Fernando, Playa del Ingles, Gran Canaria (Canary Islands), Spain

PREFACE:  This article was written over several weeks from August 18 until September 20, 2023, after I returned from my second overseas trip that summer.     

When one comes to end of his/her professional career, it is not always easy to decide what to do or where or how to find an avocation or a new vocation to keep oneself occupied productively in the last Third of One's (Current) Lifespan.  Over the approximately three and a half years since I officially retired from work (university teaching and research job), I have dabbled a bit in several possible Third Life career moves, but none of them has panned out into any satisfying work or job offers.  

Basically, I am staying at home and being the wise, but quiet, granddad to the Brooks-Yamaguchi family. Our older son, also an Associate Professor,but at Asia University (not too far from our home) lives with his Japanese wife and two daughters, aged 7 and 5 years old).  His wife, Yuki, works as a student affairs officer (foreign student admissions) at KUFS (Kanda University of Foreign Studies), located a short bicycle ride from our homes. I say 'homes' since we live just a block away from our son's and his family's residence. 

I had first joined the teaching staff at Kitasato’s Sagamihara campus in April, 1996, as an emergency teacher recruited by Prof. Yukio Seya in March of that year to fill a sudden part-time English teacher vacancy.  

Photo taken August 2023 at the circular roundabout road, about 400 meters from the East Side entrance to Tama Bochi Cemetery, Fuchu, Tokyo. These are crepe myrtle trees in full bloom from July to October annually. It's a bit rare to have two large crepe myrtle growing side-by-side in the cemetery, so they are a favorite sight on our daily dog walks into the Tama Bochi (cemetery). 

I was subsequently employed as a full-time teacher member of the English Language Unit a month into  the school following year, and has continued in the position of Associate Professor until my mandatory retirement in March 2019. Why a month later start? Actually, I was a part-time teacher with 6 weekly classes, which was the same as a full-time teacher's workload. By then asking that I be made a full-timer (once I was already employed), then they didn't have to open the 'new' position up to public applications from both presently employed part-timers as well as outsider. It was a strategic political employment move. I continue for three years as a contract (full-time) employee, before being made full-fledged faculty member (Assistant Professor), and eventually attained Associate Professorship in approximately 10 years further.  I never considered even asking to be a Full Professor because I considered that my Japanese language skills were not sufficient to complete all of the duties required a full professor.  However, I will never actually know if I was considered qualified to seek that promotion or not, because my own Department Head retired and I had several other colleagues that I would have had to compete with to become Professor Brooks.  More money, but more work and many ore headaches (if you ask me). Therefore, I happily remained an Associate Professor until I retired in March 2019.  Retirement became mandatory at the age of 65 year-of-age for all, but esteemed Professor Emeritus, of which there were one appointed every couple of years. 

After my official retirement, I was asked to teach one further year as an Adjunct Professor under a part-time teacher's salary for five courses on three days a week (Mondays - one class, Tuesday - 2 classes and Thursday - 2 classes). This arrangement, by the way, was how I started teaching part-time at Kitasato University first in the 1996-97 academic year.  

Photo taken at sunset in August 2022 Diamond Head Beach, Honolulu, Hawaii       

          After his retirement,  David L. Brooks had intended to remain as an adjunct professor at Kitasato University for one or two days a week,  he'd likely be teaching part-time as well at Aoyama Gakuin University for two graduate or undergraduate courses, and may also be working on a volunteer basis in the part-time position at the University’s Office of International Affairs from April, 2019, until the 2024.  In addition, Mr. Brooks would be managing director of a new travel company based in Hawaii that specializes in edutrekking, travel expeditions for small teams that combine travel with eco-tourism and humanitarian endeavors for potential customers in Japan, the USA, and Europe.   

The LAST PLANS in the above paragraph DID NOT actually  MATERIALIZE, and when COVID-19 hit the world, my Third Life Career is was then put on hold and is, therefore, being reconsidered. That is purpose of this entry: To review those three years of dormancy (rather like hibernation) would probably be a helpful move at this juncture of my existence.   I can either decide what I want/need to do next, or will come to some other kind of resolution.

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

Part I

January 2020 - June 2021

Photo taken February 2022 at the Diamond Head Road leading into Kapiolani Park, Honolulu, Hawaii

A)      From January 2020 until June 2021, I was involved in the Harvard Kennedy School of Government's Public Leadership Credential, where I completed six different six-week long graduate courses in an online coursework format that included weekly group work (for one of weeks of each course I was the group leader and completing a personally focused individualized weekly assignment, plus completing a challenging final written exam.  Along the way, I had three very distinguished, challenging, and interesting professors and got to work in detail with dozens of highly qualified and tenacious graduate students, who were also pursuing the same Harvard graduate credential.

Seated at the Jackie O's restaurant / bar at Super Paradise Beach on the Greek island of Mykonos. It was a warm afternoon in June, 2023, and I was one of just a few customers at 4:00pm that day.

          To be honest, taking the coursework (actually 2/5ths of a Master's Degree in Public Administration from Harvard's Kennedy School of Government) was the fulfillment of a personal challenge that I had envisioned pursuing more than a decade ago. At that time, after designating Harvard KSG as my first choice for a graduate institution at the time of taking the GRE, I received a letter of invitation from Harvard Kennedy School asking me to complete the necessary steps to apply for admission. Probably the main reason was because I had scored a perfect 6 on the then newly instigated GRE Writing Test, which had only just begun the very year that I had re-taken the GRE. There is no doubt that I found the six courses in the Public Leadership Credential at Harvard KSG to be academically challenging, but they were not impossible and I found the course content, the professors, and working with my fellow course-mates to be highly interesting, personally rewarding and a great learning experience (almost without exception). However, I believe that I came to realize that simply cooperating and competing with my other Harvard online classmates was not the activity that really excited my intellectual interests or challenged my internal soul-searching to find a meaningful post-retirement career.

A bee in the weeds: Photo taken May 2022 at the Tama River side park, not far from Tokyo Parkway Bridge at Inagi, Fuchu, Tokyo

Most of my own personally-meaningful assignments for those six courses were related to my current passion at the time: Finding or creating an organization (or group) that can assist impoverished families in Hawaii, particularly those living under stark economic realities of today's world (who can absolutely be categorized a 'poor' families and individuals who are economically disadvantaged, to find affordable housing (either by buying, renting, or sharing a portion of a group-owned lodging).

Eating at a nice (and expensive) restaurant near the Beach Boardwalk at Sitges, Spain in June, 2023

        Actually, that leads me to my July 2021 - January 2023 phase, which involved trying to set up both a non-profit, called Philantropical.org, and a for-profit travel-related business, called Rainbow Travel Network, Inc., both of which I have now closed.  

Let me explain more in the next section.

Part II

July 2021 - January 2023

B)  My Entrepreneurial Phase -- Starting Two Business that I closed even before they could actually start. 

Part II-A   From January 2021 through January 2023, I was busy trying to set up both a non-profit, called Philantropical.org, and also a for-profit travel-related business, called Rainbow Travel Network, Inc., both of which I subsequently have now closed. 

Photo taken June 2023 at the Old Windmills Strand located near the main port / harbor of Choros Town on Mykonos Island, Greece

Setting up Philantropical.org (a non-profit organization) was not too difficult. In fact, inside the State of Hawaii, it was painless and virtually easy-peasy-Japanesy (as we often say in the Brooks household). Even when I decided to make the non-profit be recognized nationwide (in the US), it was not very difficult to secure the paperwork and to get registered and verified as a US nationwide non-profit organization by the United States Internal Revenue Service (IRS). The difficulty arose when it came to the actual details of the non-profit tax designation and assigned levels of tax compliance as a non-profit organization.  While it was still recognized as a non-profit, for tax purposes, it was designated as a XXXXXX non-taxed organization and the paperwork and tax forms required were just too laborious and time-consuming to be acceptable (at least for me alone).  

I quickly realized that I could not sustain that level of complicated book-keeping and convoluted tax reporting that such a designation required. I subsequently decided to dissolve the non-profit organization, thus appearing to 'officially' abandon its mission:  helping disadvantaged and underprivileged families to cope with the regulations and restrictions needed in order to live in a house on the Big Island of Hawaii. 

To be continued.....

Part II-B Rainbow Travel Network, Inc.

Photo taken March 2012 at the Marine Park located near Arinaga Marine Preserve on the island of Gran Canaria, The Canary Islands, Spain (taken by my own underwater photography with my own camera).

The second part of my plan was to establish a travel services company that acted as an 'arranger' for travel services to be provided to small (3-7) or  medium-sized (8-24) people.  The 'trips' are not actually solely for the purpose of travel, but have the ultimate goal of providing 'free' assistance to people, organizations (such as non-profits and public corporations), to help animal and plant life in a specific region, and (or) to improve the environmental conditions in a specific locale in order to reach their fullest (and highest) potentials. The eco-trips or 'edutreking' sojourns would be in my current home country (Japan) or abroad; they could be free (if a sponsor will pay expenses) or their costs could be reduced by donations and payments from  the beneficiary groups, or they could be totally self-supported (paid for my the volunteers own monetary contributions). 

                Examples of such 'trips' could include any or a combination of the following eco-trips  or 'edutreking' experiences:a) Volunteer to teach life-skill English conversation to home healthcare workers who are assisting disaster relief for an Australian state;  b)Lead a workshop on polish one's job search and employer attractiveness skills for low-level, poorly educated individuals seeking jobs as migrant workers in a South American country;  

c) Conduct an environmental clean-up workday in specific area needing human labor of volunteers (in Florida after the last major hurricane damage), 

and 

d - z) there are countless more examples, etc... But hopefully, you get the idea:  human volunteers helping our planet and its environment, its peoples and the animal & plant livelihoods.

Photo taken  February 2022 at the Beach 67 not far from Spencer Beach, near Kawaihae, Big Island, Hawaii

Part III February 2023 - September 2023 C)   My own travels overseas

Photos were taken August 2023 at the Hellabrunn Zoo outside Munich, Germany. Of course, there are hundreds of species of birds, fish, reptiles, and other animals at the zoo, but the birds and fish are easiest to photograph because you're allowed to be so close to them in an enclosed cage  (bird cage in huge) or space (the aquarium). 

From January 2023 until the present (Sept 2023), I was mostly at my home in Tokyo, helping with the chores of grand-child minding, cooking and cleaning house.  I did find the time and resources (money) to travel abroad twice during that time. Both times,  I visited Europe; actually, I visited Spain and Germany twice as my favorite European cities are Munich and Barcelona. 

Many years ago, I practiced the art (martial) of Aikido. Once we held a public exhibition of our 'sensei's' students at a public hall in Gotanda, Tokyo. Here I am finishing a defensive move on my co-combattant.

So it is time for a radical change in my lifestyle or vocation (or avocation)? Well, after considering what's happening now in my world and in our societies, I'd have to say that things in my life will likely just remain as they are, without any huge changes. I'm enjoying what I'm doing now: being a partner to my wife, and a father and grandfather to my sons and spouses and offspring. Attempting to conflate my raison d'etre into some grand scheme of a new life is probably only my own wishful thinking as my mortality lies more concretely ahead of me. I'll most likely be happy to simply live my life as it is being played out now. I'm loved by family, and enjoy the hobbies and pastimes that 'apparently' keep me busy and productive as I enter my seventh decade of life. I can only hope that I will have at least two more decades to enjoy my life on Earth and hope to gain the satisfaction of having spent my remaining time alive in the best ways possible.

Thank for reading.

Playing with the Djohong Village children around New Year's Eve, 2000 in Cameroon, West Africa, while participating the one of EarthWatch.org research expeditions to assist Phyllis Jansyn, a former Peace Corps volunteer, who had stayed in rural Cameroon to help the villagers of Djohong find clean water, safeguard against disease, give birth, and learn healthy childcare to the women (and men) of the surrounding villages.

[blanketburritoofshame]

Long post, feel free to scroll past. Just venting emotions.

My husband got his final rejection letter from the social security office for disability. On one hand, this is devastating- I had already spent a bunch of the money in my mind on things like fixing my teeth, getting my eyes checked and glasses, etc. And it would have been a significant amount of money given that we have been pursuing this course of action for over two years. Just the back pay could have paid off all our debts and then some.

I feel this deep impending seense of doom because this is only the start of what will be a long hard battle with him.

A little background. I've had clinical major depression since I was approximately 15. Anxiety came later, after life had rolled me around a bit. When I met him, I was very upfront with my diagnosis- I learned a long time ago that if they run at the beginning, it's easier. And he admitted to having had some of the same problems. A kindred spirit. Someone who could understand if I just...couldn't...some days. Fell in love, hard.

Now, he's four years younger than me, which only matters in some contexts- like this one. I'd been out of high school for a while when we met, and hadn't been able to do the collage thing but he had. He got his associates shortly after we got together. However, this meant that when I desperately needed a change and posited moving together 700 miles away...I took him basically from the warmth of his mother's womb into the cold harshness of the real world. His mother did everything for him (including washing his clothes, cooking, and picking up after him when she couldn't stand the mess anymore), so he never bothered to learn to do these things on his own. Never came into his own rythyms with chores and basic living. But that's a whole other story, and I married him.

So. When we were 700 miles away from anyone to fall back on, my depression started getting worse. I struggled along for three more years before having a big breakdown and coming to some conclusions, finally admitting some things and making a very big decision. I needed to begin the process of getting disability payments. I kind of knew this would change a lot of things for us, because it wasn't going ro be very much and we had been scraping by before. But I did it. And because of my long history, multiple medical professionals diagnosing me, and reliance for many years on medication, I was approved in six months. The happiness that came from not having a long drag out battle didn't last long. Before the ink could dry on my first check, he lost his job.

Through no fault of his, though they never told him why. They implied something like downsizing.

He had loved that job. Loved the fairly good (if not ideal for his qualifications) pay, the people he got to work with, and the work itself was adjacent to his field of study. He took its loss pretty hard. And I mean hard. Began displaying classic depression symptoms like listlessness, fatigue, suicidal ideation, and general hopelessness. I understood, and Covid hit like a freight train about two weeks later, so I didn't push him. That was probably my first big mistake, not forcing him to face the world and try to get back on his feet.

He didn't even try for another job for six months. Fine, he needed to recoup and rebuild the confidence that had shattered. Pandemic was an excuse also, because nowhere was hiring. When he finally found a fast food job (which was actually pretty cushy, and astonishingly offered him more than the previous job in his field had), he lasted two days. Broke down third morning with a panic attack. Panic attacks are unreasonable and irrational, and his situation was not all that dissimilar to mine when I decided I couldn't work anymore. This pattern of him copying me would become apparent later, but at the time I just sympathized.

He started two more jobs, but didn't last more than two weeks at either of them. He was hired for a small, relatively stress free job and never brought himself to even show up for training. I floated the idea of him trying for disability to get acess to some of the resources that I was given when I was approved. We (by which I mean mostly me. It stressed him out to much) did the paperwork and got him in to see my psychiatrist. She agreed that he had generalized anxiety disorder and some general depression. He got on meds.

Big things happened soon after, and we were obliged to move back the 700 miles to stay with his mother (you know, the one who does everything for him). We are sitting with his brother one day, and he gets on the topic of mental health- says he's been diagnosed with clinical major depression, recurrent severe and major anxiety. Red. Flag. 'Major anxiety' is not a valid diagnosis, and I had seen his depression results. There was no mention of major depression- mild, single episode, somewhat recurrant. He tacked on 'psychosis symptoms' in another conversation, which had been a diagnosis I had gotten when one of my meds started making me paranoid. He hadn't been back to see a provider yet to be rediagnosed (y'all, moving with medicaid is hard), so I had no idea where these were coming from. I wait until we're alone, and tell him I think he's misremembering my diagnosis as his own, and he tries to convince me otherwise. I drop it- second major boo boo. Third conversation where he pulls out those bombs, and I call him out. He walks back to a middle ground, and I reiterate that I don't like him doing that when we're alone.

We finally see a provider, and I just KNOW he told the guy he'd been diagnosed with major depression. Suddenly, he's on most of the same meds as me. Whatever, maybe I'm seeing things that aren't there. They start a workup to try to continue the application for him to be on disability. He gets two rejection letters. We decide to get a disability lawyer, and together we convince my husband to go into therapy. The lawyer stressed that he needed to show as much medical opinion as possible. He starts therapy, and I ask him one day how it's going. He's totally fine telling me that the therapist mostly lets him just talk about general stresses like the state of the world at the moment, etc. Which, granted, he can be very hard to steer a conversation around and he was working with students on psych rotation, not actual doctors. But thats...not what therapy is for...

The last appeal comes, and it's an in person hearing. Alone. I have no idea what he said. Immediately after, he starts flaking hard on his therapy, not even wanting to go. He ends up having to change therapists to this old man who is an established psychologist. He goes to one session and immediately hates the man. When I ask him why, he says it's because the guy kept interrupting him and asking things like what he's doing to improve his day to day functioning. Decides he's never seeing him again. -_-

A few days ago, he starts talking about starting a side business buying and flipping electronics like game consoles. He'd found some auction site that apparently sells things like returns and overstock as pallets. He wants to buy a pallet, 'something small at first, a couple hundred bucks', fix anything that needs to be fixed (I forgot to mention his degree is in IT, so he could reasonably be able to fix them) and sell them for a profit. Where is he gonna get the money, the space to store the stuff, the space to work on them, and how is he realistically expecting to sell them? He'll figure it out.

That brings us to today, when the letter of room arrives. He's supremely unbothered, like I didn't just let him waste two plus years of our lives playing video games and watching youtube all day. Like...I had dreams of maybe moving out of his mother's hell house (it has structural issues and a bitch in the shape of her boyfriend. Four people in this place is a nightmare). I dared to hope for independence again.

And that's not even the thing I'm really conflicted about. I have that deep need to cry for what now can't be, but I also have the bottomless put of dread of how I'm going to convince him to stand up and start acting like a 30 year old man. I expect absolutely no help from my mother in law.

She's the kindest, sweetest person, but also a hopeless enabler. She ACTIVELY goes out of her way to do things -things that as grown ass human beings, we should be doing for ourselves. She washes my panties, for cripes sake!! You cannot talk her out of it. I had to fight her to let me do the weekly trash so I'd feel like I was contributing to the household. There's no hope in the world that she's going to tell him to get off his ass and get a job. After all, we've been getting by on just my social security payment and his mother's insane generosity for two years now, why would he change it?

And the bitch of it is, I now have to tell my therapist. See, I've been going to my therapy an working on trying to be better (I know I'll never be normal, and that there's really no 'cure' for depression. I've long since accepted that). Trying to not just be a bump on a log all day, working on my social issues and putting in the effort to learn how to marginally function. And the last few sessions, we've been focusing on my husband (which is, honestly why I can point to where I went wrong). Trying to work out a way for me to get past my fear of conflict and lay some things out for my husband. And now I have to tell him this.

WHY do I feel like I am the one who failed?

[jungshookz]

hwayoung’s two now and y/n’s allowed to be emotional about it, okay?

➺ genre; ceo!yoongiverse!! a little bit of yoongi and y/n being mushy for each other!! fluff!! cutest drabble for the cutest girl!! jungkook and jimin bickering like an old married couple as per usual!! 

➺ wordcount; 3.2k

➺ p.s. this drabble is approximately five months overdue and it’s basically been collecting dust in my drafts so i figured i’d finally release it into the wild since it’s mother’s day today and i thought it’d be nice to read something sweet on this special day!!!! happy mother’s day!!! give ur mom a big ol hug and a kiss on the cheek :-) and if u don’t celebrate mother’s day that’s okay you can still read this for a small boost of serotonin wahoo :D 

                                       »»————-　🍰　————-««

“i’d just like to inform you that if it wasn’t for the fact that today is hwayoung’s birthday, the idea of having cake as part of breakfast would definitely be off the table.” yoongi pauses before turning his head to look at you pointedly, “in fact, it wouldn’t even had made it to the table in the first place.”

“trust me, you’ve made that clear multiple times-” you roll your eyes playfully before offering yoongi a half-hearted shrug, “it’s not a big deal! we’ll just give her a tiny little chunk that’ll fit in her tiny little hand and then we’ll save the rest for later!”

“yeah, right-” yoongi snorts, making his way over to you to hand you a balloon, “you’re probably going to sneak an entire slice of cake into her mouth while i’m not watching-” he teases, digging his fingers into your sides playfully before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest, “you think you’re so sneaky-”

“hey-!” you giggle, squirming in his grip when you feel him starting to nip at the side of your neck, “this is not a very productive use of our time, boss-”

“hey, you two! are you just going to stand there making out all day or are you actually going to help me with the decorations?”

both you and yoongi peer over the edge to see jimin standing by the bottom of the spiral staircase looking very unimpressed and you flash him a sheepish smile 

“we’re not making out-” 

“yeah, well you might as well be-”

“we’re helping! we’re almost done tying balloons to the banisters-” you argue, holding the balloon in your hand up before flopping it around enthusiastically, “we-” you jolt when you accidentally let go of it, watching with wide eyes as it rockets around the ceiling before poot-poot-pooting pathetically and landing on the ground by jimin’s feet

whoops

“…yes, that’s very helpful, thank you.” jimin mutters to himself, shaking his head as he bends down to pick up the sad, spitty balloon up off the ground with a grimace, “when you’re done, come down and help me because this balloon arch isn’t going to make itself! chop-chop, people-” he claps his hands together as he wanders back to the living room to the half-constructed balloon arch

“you know, you’d think that hwayoung was his daughter-” yoongi murmurs lowly, twisting his neck to give your cheek a quick kiss before pulling away

“mm, tell me about i-”

“she’s mine when the two of you drop dead!”

you jump in surprise at the sound of jimin’s voice snapping at you from below and you and yoongi exchange glances before bursting into quiet giggles

“i feel like i should be more concerned that jimin seems to be very eagerly waiting for our deaths.” you joke, reaching for the bag of balloons and pulling out a handful of them

as much as you love your daughter you weren’t planning on having a super big birthday party for her just because..,., well, she’s probably not going to remember most of it considering she’s two and also it’s just the five of you celebrating at home, so you thought that a cake and a bunch of presents would be good enough of a celebration

of course, when you told jimin about these plans he looked like he was ready to bury you alive which is why he insisted that he’d take care of the food and the drinks and basically the entirety of hwayoung’s birthday party and told you that all you and yoongi had to do was sit back, relax, blow up a couple of balloons and also choose a cute birthday outfit for hwayoung

(jimin actually ended up taking over that part as well. he bought her a new birthday dress and a brand new pair of shoes to go with it.)

“everyone can relax! the star of the show has now arrived!”

the sound of the front door slamming shut suddenly shatters the silence and you smile lightly when you see jungkook sauntering in as if he owns the place

“good morning, kook.” you hum, jungkook looking up at you before offering you a lopsided grin, “actually, the star of the show is still fast asleep in her room.”

“oh, right-” jungkook snorts, dismissing you with a flick of his wrist, “i mean, yeah, of course this is hwayoung’s special day- but check it out! i picked up her birthday cake and brought it back here and i didn’t accidentally ruin it somehow!” he raises the big blue box in his hand with a beam, “i’m incredible!”

“that thing looks huge, jungkook!” you frown lightly, “i told you not to go crazy-”

“please tell me you didn’t max out my credit card buying a giant cake for hwayoung.” yoongi chimes in, leaning over and folding his arms atop the banister, “i hope you realise it’s just going to be the three of you having to eat it all-”

“it’s hwayoung’s birthday, i had to splurge! you know that ‘everything is cake’ trend? i ordered a custom cake and asked them to make it look like a giant cookie! but i also ordered a dozen chocolate chip cookies just in case she’s not into the cake.” jungkook smiles proudly before pausing, “…of course, knowing hwayoung, she’s going to love the cookies and the cake, so i’m not too worried. i’m going to see if i can shove these into the fridge-”

“what’s wrong?” yoongi nudges your side to get you to look at him, “you look like you’re thinking, which is never really a good thing-”

“hwayoung’s two now.” you blink twice before turning to look at yoongi, “she’s two.”

“yes. you’re very good at keeping track of our daughter’s age.” yoongi coos, reaching up to pinch your cheek playfully, “good job, baby.”

“two years old!” you gasp, turning around to lean back against the railing before shaking your head, “my god, she’s aged.”

“oh my god, you’re right. the ripe old age of two.” yoongi teases before gasping dramatically and reaching over to grip onto your forearm, “soon, we’ll be thinking about what elementary school to send her off to... and then the next thing you know, we’ll be helping her look for her own apartment when she’s off at university... and then you’ll be going wedding dress shopping with h-”

“stOP stop stop stop-” you wave your hands before covering them over your ears, yoongi laughing lightly when you frown at him, “i don’t want her to turn two! because that means she’s going to turn three… and then she’s going to turn four… and then five, six, seven, eight-” you pause and your eyes suddenly widen in horror, “she’s going to be a sixteen year old one day- what if she turns into a bratty sixteen year old?? because i was a really bratty sixteen year old and i don’t want her to turn out like me! do you know how hard it’s going to be if she turns into me? i used to sneak home at four in the morning-”

“let’s keep in mind that hwayoung is also my daughter and i was not a bratty sixteen year old,” yoongi interrupts calmly before giving your arm a reassuring squeeze, “she’s gonna be fine! and you turned out great, so give yourself a little bit of credit-”

“i just want her to stay two forever.” you pout, crossing your arms stubbornly as you look down the hallway towards her room, “is that too much to ask for??”

“when the terrible twos hit, i guarantee you’re probably going to feel a little different.” yoongi teases, pushing himself up off the banister before gesturing for you to go and join jimin and jungkook downstairs, “why don’t you help jimin out with the balloon arch while i go and wake our little miss two year old up?”

                                      »»————-　🍰　————-««

yoongi presses his lips together tightly as he twists the doorknob, being careful not to make too loud of a sound to accidentally shock hwayoung awake

the last thing he wants is for to burst into tears at the start of her special day

he peers into the bedroom, smiling fondly when he sees a little lump under the covers shuffling a little 

a chubby sock-clad foot pokes out for a second before it disappears again

“이게 누굴까요? [hm… who’s that]?” yoongi asks quietly, the lump suddenly freezing in place, “드디어 일어나셨네요… [i think someone’s finally awake…]”

he tilts his head when a messy head of hair pops out from under the covers, the corners of hwayoung’s mouth immediately lifting in a bright smile when she spots him, “우리 공주 좋은 아침입니다! [oh! good morning, miss min!]”

he lets himself into the room and reaches over to click the white noise machine off before starting to quietly pad his way over to her, his heart melting in his chest when her mouth opens up in a quiet little yawn

“잘 주무떠뜹니까… [gub moming…]” hwayoung murmurs, eyelids fluttering slightly as yoongi reaches down to push some of her hair out of her face

“잘 잤어? [hi, baby… did you sleep well?]” yoongi asks, leaning down to scoop her up, “우리 화영이 생일 축하해… 밑에서 다 기다리고 있어... [happy birthday, my darling… we’re all waiting for you downstairs...]” he whispers, rubbing circles into her warm back when she immediately clings to him, “머리에 물 좀 묻히고 내려갈까? 머리가 아주 산발이네. [why don’t we freshen up a little, hm? the birthday girl can’t take pictures with a bird’s nest on her head.]”

“딴바. [birb’s ness.]”

                                      »»————-　🍰　————-««

“i hope she likes the present i got for her.” jungkook mutters, his foot tapping anxiously against the ground as he looks up towards the top of the stairs in anticipation of hwayoung’s arrival, “i mean, if she doesn’t like it, there’s a receipt in the box so i can return it and get something else for her… but i really hope she likes it.”

“jungkook, she’s two. i gave her a wooden spoon to play with the other day and she was ecstatic.” you snort, peeling an eye open to look at him from where you’re lying on the couch before shutting it again, “i’m sure she’ll love whatever you got for her.”

“what’s the matter with you?” jimin hums, glancing at you for a second before focusing his attention back on sticking the bright pink ‘2’ candle onto the cake, “you look a little out of it today.”

“gee, thanks.” you snort, blindly grabbing one of the throw pillows before hugging it to your chest, “no, i’m fine, i just- i was feeling a little mopey this morning about hwa turning two and now i’m just thinking about how time has just flown by…”

“mm. it seems like it was only yesterday that i was holding your hair back while you violently puked your guts out into the toilet bowl.” jimin jokes, holding a hand to his chest before spinning around to face you and jungkook, “ah… fond memories that i’ll look back on for the rest of my life.”

“you know, i should’ve told yoongi i was pregnant in another way.” you suddenly change the subject, propping yourself up onto your elbows with a frown, “all i did was give him a tiny cookie. how lame is that?!”

“to be fair, you didn’t know how he was going to react, so maybe it was a good thing you went for something so simple!” jimin shrugs, making his way over to you before sticking his hand out for you to take, “c’mon, miss mopey. hwayoung probably doesn’t want to see you throwing yourself a pity party on her special day when she comes down here.”

                                     »»————-　🍰　————-««

“-화영이가 엄마한테가서 이쁜짓 해주는 거 어떨까? [-now, mama is feeling very emotional today, so i think it’d be a really good idea to act extra cute, okay?]” yoongi whispers to hwayoung, planting a quick kiss on her cheek while slowly making his way down the stairs, “of course, that probably isn’t going to be a problem for you, seeing that you’re adorable 24/7-”

“i adowbo.” hwayoung murmurs, leaning down and squishing her cheek against yoongi’s shoulder, “졸려. [i seepy.]”

“졸리다고? [sleepy?]” yoongi pauses on the steps, reaching up to adjust one of her pigtails with a smile, “이거 큰일났네, 졸리면 어떡해! [you can’t be sleepy for your morning conference. look alive!]”

“is that the sleepy little birthday girl?” 

yoongi looks down to see you waiting eagerly at the bottom of the stairs, your hands clasped together and your eyes glued on hwayoung, “good morning!”

“mama!” hwayoung immediately twists around in yoongi’s arms at the sound of your voice, reaching out for you with a teethy grin as soon as yoongi gets close enough to you

“oh, happy birthday, my sweet little baby!“ you coo as you take her into your arms, squishing multiple kisses to her chubby cheek as you hold her close, “happy happy birthday, my beautiful girl…”

“ahppa bouday!” hwayoung giggles, little hands patting against your face

she leans in and smushes her nose against yours before giving you a drooly kiss on the cheek and you can’t help but laugh at how affectionate she’s being with you

see??

you want to keep her like this forever and it sucks to think about the fact that one day you’re going to set her down on the ground after carrying her and you’ll never pick her up again because she won’t need you to pick her up again

:-(

“oh…” you sniffle, suddenly feeling your nose prickle and your eyes starting to get a little tingly, “i love you so much…”

you don’t get much of a chance to say anything else before hwayoung’s suddenly being plucked from your arms, both jimin and jungkook immediately starting to fawn over her as per usual

“우리 화영이, 공주님이 따로 없네! [look at how beautiful you are in your dress!]” jimin exclaims animatedly, hwayoung clapping her hands together in response

her dress is sage green and gingham and it even came with matching ribbons for her hair and you have to admit that jimin made a pretty good choice with this birthday outfit

you probably would’ve stuck her in a pair of overalls or something

“see, what’d i say?” jimin smiles proudly, smoothing down the back of hwayoung’s dress before looking over at jungkook, “i told you the sage green was cuter- 아니 빨간 걸 왜 입혀 뭐 애를 도마로 만들 생각이니- [the red one that you wanted to go with would’ve made her look like a picnic blanket-]”

“아니 도마라니! [red gingham is classy!]” jungkook argues, trailing behind jimin while making faces at hwayoung to get her to laugh, “입혀보지도 않고- [you didn’t even give it a chance-]”

“난 그딴 거 염두에 두지 않는다 정국아- [i don’t need to give tacky garbage a chance, jungkook-]”

“hey, are you okay?” yoongi gives you a quick hug and kiss on the side of your head when he suddenly notices a tear running down your cheek, “she’s just turning two, y/n... she’s not moving out of the country-”

“i know, i know-“ you sniffle, reaching up to quickly wipe at your tears before chuckling, “i guess i’m just feeling extra emotional today-”

“c’mon, parents!” jimin calls out for you two while setting hwayoung down in her high chair, “the candle is melting and this cake is too expensive to get any wax dripped on it-”

“gookee!” hwayoung points to the cake and claps her hands as she bounces up and down on her seat, “gookee, mama!”

“yeah! cookie!” you mimic enthusiastically, smiling widely when she suddenly lets out a high-pitched squeal of excitement, her nose scrunching particularly cutely, “i’m glad to see that you inherited my love for cookies and not appa’s love for muesli.”

yoongi immediately scoffs and reaches down to give your bum a quick swat

“i know she’s saying cookie, but i’m just going to go ahead and say that she’s actually saying the name of her favourite uncle-” jungkook sighs, reaching down to pinch hwayoung’s cheek, “화영이는 꾹이 삼촌 제일 좋아하- [uncle gookee is your forever favourite-]”

“어 응 뉘에- [yeah, okay, whatever helps you sleep at night-]” jimin snorts, shoving the camera into his hands as the four of you stand in front of hwayoung, “okay, don’t touch the cake yet! let’s get some pretty pictures of the birthday girl first!”

“hwa, look into the camera!” jungkook coos, snapping his fingers to get her to look up at him, “그래 삼촌 한 번만 봐 봐- [look at uncle goo- yeah, there we go-]”  

you watch hwayoung fondly as she continues to ham it up for the camera, her little legs kicking in anticipation under the tray

“good girl, you’re being so patient.” you hum before reaching over to pluck a cookie from the open box, “ooh, i’ve been dying to sink my teeth into one of these-” 

“i had one earlier, they’re pretty good!” jimin nods, brushing past jungkook to get to you, “the bakery i ordered them from has, like five out of five stars one google review- hey, what’s that face for?”

“eugh- do the cookies taste a little funky to you?” you face screws up as you swallow the bite before holding the cookie up to take a closer look at it, “it’s just chocolate chip, right?”

“yeah- hold on, lemme try-” jimin frowns, reaching over to steal your cookie before taking a bite of it and chewing thoughtfully

“maybe you just got a weird one?” yoongi suggests, peering into the box with a frown, “all cookies taste funky to me, so my opinion probably isn’t valid here-”

“it’s fine, i’ll try another one later-” you dust your fingers off before perking up and clapping your hands together, “hey, should yoongi and i hop in for some pictures before hwa completely destroys the entire cake?”

“yeah, it… might be a little too late for that.” jungkook clears his throat and the three of you look over to see hwayoung’s tubby arms shoved elbow deep into the cake, “i gave her the green light to go ahead and eat. she just looked so sad and hungry, i’m sorry!”

hwayoung cackles in glee as she continues slapping her hand against the cake, her grubby little hands now sticky and her new dress stained with globs of frosting chocolate

“oh my god.” you stifle a laugh and reach up to cover your mouth so that you don’t burst out laughing at the fact that both jimin and yoongi look absolutely appalled

“i spent, like, ten minutes doing her hair-” yoongi whines, gently nudging you aside so he can hurry over to hwayoung and try to salvage the neat little pigtails he spent forever working on, “and now there’s frosting everywhere!”

“that dress was expensive, jungkook!” jimin snaps, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was about to burst into tears, “and i didn’t even get any nice pictures with her before she- come on, man-”

“i’m sorry!”

“ahppy bodday!” hwayoung shrieks in delight and flings her arms up, chunks of cake and specks of frosting flicking out from her hands, “i adowbo!”

👔click here for more ceo!yoongi content (+ hwayoung!)

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[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (4): Equality Statement (Fem!Reader x Naoya Zenin, 7.5k)

series synopsis: you are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. gojo, unfortunately, does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: you make the mistake of crossing naoya zenin at a sports festival and are forced to apologise. but as you well know by now, nothing ever seems to go to plan where any of your student’s fathers are concerned. 

NSFW. MINORS DNI. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. misogyny, weird power dynamics, hate-sex, piv sex, blowjobs. naoya.  

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)   ♡  (jujutsu kaisen masterlist)

1.

The Saturday morning that your first ever undokai is scheduled for dawns bright and early, and you can’t help the little thrill that goes through you at the golden fingers of dawn lighting up your room. There’d been talk of the weekend bringing rain, and things needing to be rescheduled – but it’s perfect weather, as you put on a comfortable tank top and shorts instead of your neat pencil skirt and suit jacket combination.

This will be your first event of the kind, and you’re excited about it. The kids in the class have been practising all of their cheers and routines and the like constantly, whilst the ones involved in the competitive sports have been cheering one another on and snatching time when they can to race against one another in preparation. It’s been nice to see all of the camaraderie between them – even some of the quieter ones have seemed to come a little bit out of their shell, with so much team spirit in the air.

Well. Most of them have. You’ve noticed Junpei still hanging back, face sad, uncomfortable when other boys crowd him and tug him off to who knows where – probably to get him involved in their own practises or rehearsals.

It’s been long and hard preparing for it, but even Gojo has been focused on something for once.

“There’s just something about events like this!” Gojo chirped to you, once, as he’d held up a megaphone he did not really need and called his class back into formation in front of him. “You know! The joy of youth! I want them to have the best time possible! They deserve it.”

Seeing Gojo’s mischievous eyes sparkle with determination instead of humour had made you smile at him, and you’d felt a strange pull in your chest when he’d smiled back, needing to pull your gaze away to ask Yuuji to stop poking Megumi in the back to get him to look at a weird caterpillar he’d found on the ground.

As a junior high undokai, things are a little more competitive than they might be if this were an elementary school or even a middle school event, but there’s still a big emphasis on the teamwork and the cheering on portion of the day. You’ve watched and applauded what feels like a hundred practises for the cheering section, confiscating whistles when they’re sneakily blown whilst you’re trying to teach a mathematics lesson.

Still, you’re not surprised to see that Gojo’s class have been corralled into his classroom whilst your vivacious teacher and mentor gives them a rallying encouragement that seems to contain a lot of bigging up the fact that they are, in fact, his class.

“I thought the pep talk was for them,” you say, as heads turn to you when you walk into the room. It’s strange to see all of the faces dressed in their gym uniforms instead of their school uniforms – and it’s even stranger to be wearing an approximation of it yourself.

“You look nice!” Yuji pipes up, and you smile at him.

“It is for them,” Gojo brings a hand to his sunglasses to push them down a little, giving you a charming smile and the full force of the galaxies swirling in his eyes. “I’m just reminding them that as Satoru Gojo’s class, of course they’re going to do well! We’re going to be the strongest, and win!” He looks at all of them – bright shining faces turned to him, all lit up with the excitement of competition. There’s something in him that you rarely see right now – something encouraging and bright and compassionate. He genuinely seems to want them to do well. “I believe in all of you!”

The warmth spreading through your chest at Gojo’s words is a new experience. You’re far more used to exasperation and frustration where he’s concerned.

But now, you can’t help the infectious smiles of the children and the determination in their face to do well enough for everyone to be proud of. Maybe Gojo isn’t so bad after all, you think, as he bids the children in the class farewell and tells them to go and join everyone else outside in preparation for the day’s events.

“What d’you think?” He asks you, as Junpei leaves the room, still dragging his feet a little. You can’t blame him. He’s involved in the cheering section, as so many of the less athletic kids are, but the undokai is not optional and you think that Junpei is the kind of boy who hates being looked at. “Are we gonna win?”

“I don’t think that’s quite the point of the exercise,” you say, eventually. “We’re supposed to be fostering team spirit and co-operation--”

“Yeah,” Gojo wrinkles his nose and grins. “But we’re still gonna win, right?”

You sigh.

“With Yuji and Maki? Probably. But that’s not the point!”

Gojo stands up and stretches his arms out above him. He’s in a shirt that clings tight to a surprisingly muscled abdomen,  and dark grey sweatpants. He’s never been the ‘formal wear’ kind of teacher, but it’s still jarring to see him dressed so casually – and even more jarring to realise that he’s handsome, despite the fact you’ve spent most of the last few months rolling your eyes and sighing and cursing the world that you’ve ended up having to endure Satoru Gojo so much.

“I know, I know – but it’s nice to think about, right?” His grin is infectious. “Did you have time to have breakfast this morning? I know it’s an earlier start than usual, I’ve got a spare blueberry muffin in my bag – hope it didn’t get crushed too badly by my stretches--”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, already dreading the idea of him pressing a crumbled muffin into your hand. “I had a healthy, nutritious breakfast.”

“So did I!” He says, hotly. “The blueberry muffin had fruit in it, croissants are glazed with egg so that’s protein, and I had a slice of honey on toast too just because I felt like I’d have to keep my energy up today--”

You are constantly impressed by how he manages to consume all of this sugar without going into overdrive – then again, maybe that does explain a lot about him.

“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing today,” you admit to him. “I mean, I know I’m here to cheer on the kids and stuff, but I don’t know what my role’s supposed to be--”

“Oh!” He comes around and begins to walk out of the classroom, beckoning you to follow him. “Didn’t I tell you? They told me ages ago--” He did not tell you. You don’t know why you find this a surprise. “You’re gonna be in charge of the refreshments table for the first half of the morning – Yuta, you know, the other teacher’s aid, he’ll relieve you for the second half so you can cheer us on and help me a bit. Not that I’ll need it! It’s not a hard job, just be polite to anyone who needs to use it, most of ‘em bring their own lunches and snacks but we find that it’s always good to have a table with some extras – especially when it’s so hot outside!”

“You didn’t,” you say, but you follow him anyway. You have learnt by now that the most you’ll get from Gojo is a shrug and an airy ‘sorry’. And you suppose, in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t so bad. It’s not like you needed to have time to stop and prepare yourself to give people a polite smile and ask them if they’d like you to pour them a glass of water.

The two of you spill out into the grounds of the school, which is already full of excited students and proud parents. You recognise a few of them – your face heats up as you see Nanami forcibly pressing a bottle of sunscreen into Yuji’s hands, and as the two of you walk past Geto who is tying back Mimiko and Nanako’s hair, ensuring the team hats that the students are all wearing sit neatly on their heads.

There’s a man stood with Maki and Mai who you assume is their father; a blond with a sneering face and a presence that makes you feel like you shouldn’t even be looking at him. Maki has her arms crossed, her chin jutting forward – the two of them are clearly involved in some kind of argument. Even as you watch, some other men are walking towards him with their heads bowed, like he’s something special.

You vaguely recall that you’ve heard some tell about the Zenins being a very rich, very old, very respected family. Judging from the way he carries himself and the way people keep looking at him, you think that must be it.

“Is that Maki and Mai’s dad?” You ask, curiously, as you’re pushed past him towards a collection of tables beneath a bright yellow awning. Gojo makes a noise that sounds like a sigh.

“Yep,” he says, sounding short. There’s some kind of history there, you think. “That’s Naoya Zenin. Better for you to avoid him, if you can – he’s not the kind of guy you want to cross, y’know?”

“But Maki’s--”

“Absolutely nothing like him,” Gojo deposits you in front of a table heaped with water jugs, ice cubes and plastic cups. “Really.”

You wrinkle your nose as you look around. At least everyone else seems happy – excited, buzzing with energy and the promise of an exciting day ahead. You can’t help but worry about Maki’s expression, though. She had looked like her and her father were having an argument that had been going on for months--

Gojo waves at you as he jogs across the field, moving surprisingly quickly for a man who ate nothing but sugar for his breakfast. You watch him go, unable to stop a smile forming on your face as he pauses by Maki and Mai. He slaps a hand onto Maki’s shoulder and says something with a bright grin that she seems to respond to with a smile, turning to follow him. Her father’s eyes narrow, as he spits something that even you can work out is venomous at the retreating backs of one of his daughters. He sighs as he says something else to Mai, a smile almost tugging at the corners of his mouth as his attention shifts back to her.

It’s clear who the golden child is there, then.

You try and shake your thoughts away from Naoya Zenin and his two girls and concentrate on the place that you’ve been given, reminding yourself that even if it doesn’t seem like a big role, you all have to work hard to make sure that today is a success. Your students have been practising and getting excited for this event for weeks, and you want all of the parents to be as proud of their students as you are.

You have a good view from the refreshments table of everything that’s going on. You watch a few of the races, a few cheering displays from the other classes to the beat of the drums – and when kids run up to you, sweaty and panting, you hand them a plastic cup full of cool water and they thank you as if you harvested it from a spring yourself instead of merely pouring it out.

Some parents ask you politely who you are, and you tell them with a smile and a bright look, hoping that you being friendly and polite will get back to other people. A few of them exchange looks when they hear that you’re attached to Gojo’s class; the man has a reputation that follows him everywhere. You give out oranges and other pieces of fruit to some of the students who need an extra sugar boost, or the ones who have a bandage wrapped around their knee or grazes from falls that have recently been cleaned. Shoko is busy today, and you often see her direct these injured children to you as a rest stop, and so their parents can find them easily.

You pause for a moment as the names are called for a relay race, and you hear Maki and Mai being summoned. This is the first race that they’re taking part in – if their team wins this one, they’ll qualify for the final this afternoon. You can see Gojo lifting his arms and hollering and hear his loud, excited voice even with all of the other people crowding into the school grounds to watch, and despite yourself you feel a smile spread over your face.

You’re still smiling when you hear a scoff.

You turn around to see what the fuss is – only to see Naoya Zenin, holding a plastic cup of water as if it’s offended him mortally. Seeing you looking at him, his lip curls.

“Is this tap water?” He asks you. He has a curious accent; slow, drawling, and clearly much superior to your own. It’s not an accent that Maki and Mai have inherited – and as he raises one eyebrow, the sun catching the rings in his ears, you find yourself glad of it. “Well?”

“I think so,” you say. You are on edge. He peers into it, and sighs.

“Don’t you have anything better? Cell-gen or Tennensui or even I LOHAS, at least?” He speaks to you slowly, like you’re a child, or as if he’s not sure whether a peasant like you would even know the names of any bottled water brands. You can’t stand being talked down to, and you curl your hand into a fist as you say, trying to keep yourself polite;

“I’m sorry, Sir. There’s just this.”

“You’d think with the money pumped in-- fine.” He sighs, taking a sip of the water, his face scrunching in displeasure at – you don’t know. The disgusting taste of tap water, you suppose. You try not to look at the bob of his throat as he swallows. Everything about this man seems to be unpleasant except the way he looks.

You take your own cup of water, just to quell some of the dryness that has made itself known in your throat at interacting with him.

The cheering gets a little quieter, and you turn to see what’s happened. As it turns out, all that’s actually happened is Gojo has stopped putting forth his own shouts to the fray, his eyes focussed on you and Naoya, a look that you think is almost sympathy spread across his face. You see that the race is about to begin, and you don’t look at Naoya as you say;

“You’re Maki and Mai’s father, aren’t you? Their first race is about to start. Maki’s been training really hard, I think she’ll pip it for us—”

A dark presence at your shoulder, and a sneering, uppity drawl.

“I gather you’re the teaching aid I’ve been hearing so much about from everyone.” he says. It does not sound like a compliment. “Maki has really found you . . . encouraging.” He says it like it’s a dirty word.

You force yourself to remain cheerful, and not ask him what the fuck his problem is.

“Maki’s really talented,” you say. “Mai’s fast, too – they’re both really good representatives for the class--”

Naoya snorts.

“They should be on the sidelines,” he says, coolly. “Supporting the men. Not running. Not getting all sweaty and hot and messing up their hair and their pretty faces.” He shakes his head. “It’s unwomanly, and if Maki listened to a word I’d said, she wouldn’t be doing it.”

“Mai is doing it too,” you point out, hating yourself for getting involved in this. But you just can’t let him stand there and be such an asshole, spewing his narrow-minded ideas when there are impressionable girls around.

“Mai’s already agreed that if they win this race, she’ll ask one of the boys to switch in for her. I’ve sorted it with the principal. It’s not ladylike for her to do any more than she has to. She’s not going to get a husband in good standing based on her athletic prowess--”

Oh, this is too far. You’re seething, though you’re trying to keep your respectable face on. You’re at work, you’re at work, you’re at work--

“Perhaps there are some other things they consider more important than finding a husband, at the age of twelve?”

Naoya’s laugh is nasty, mocking – and you hate that there’s something in it that sends a curl of heat right through you, blooming between your thighs.

“The younger a girl learns her place,” he says, his voice very slow. “The better it is and easier it is for a man to be assured she’ll do her duties. I don’t see a ring on your finger, Miss – I’d hate for them to end up working some dead-end little job just because they don’t have anyone to cook and clean for--”

Nope.

You can’t take it any longer.

You turn and you throw the cup of ‘shitty tap water’ in your hand right over Naoya Zenin’s stupid, smug, asshole face.

2.

Gojo, for what you think must be one of the first time in his life, looks uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know you were going to throw water on him,” he tries to say, weakly. “Look, we all hate him, but . . . ugh. This is so frustrating! I hate all of this bureaucracy bullshit--”

It turns out that Naoya Zenin’s family – and Naoya Zenin himself – donate rather a lot of money to the school for such functions as the one you’re all currently attending. It turns out that nobody wants to piss off the bank-roll that’s keeping their gym maintained, their events fancy and expensive, the library well-stocked – and you get that! You really do! You know that school budgets are overstretched already, and that donors like the Zenin family are something to be gently courted and kept around for as long as humanly possible.

You just wish that the big donor for this school was anybody else.

“I didn’t know all of this,” you say, reasonably. “I know I shouldn’t have thrown a drink over him, but Mr. Gojo--”

“How many times? You can call me Satoru.”

“If you’d heard the way he was talking--”

“Oh, believe me,” Gojo’s full lips press into a thin line. “I know exactly what Naoya Zenin’s modus operandi is. Let me guess: he was all on at you about how Maki’s not a proper young lady, how the boys should be doing the hard work, how he’s trying to make sure his daughters get a proper start and a rich husband – ugh.” Gojo tugs at his shirt, clearly frustrated. “I’ve had it way too much.”

“Yeah,” you say. You find yourself sighing too.

“The Vice Principal’s in his back pocket,” Gojo says, taking a seat on top of the desk that you’re currently sat behind, cooling off some of your anger – Principal Masamichi had sent you inside to calm you down, and Naoya himself had been escorted into the building by Vice Principal Gakuganji to dry off, all the while saying placating things to calm down the school’s meal ticket. “They want you to apologise to him.”

“I suppose I should,” you say miserably. “But it’s gonna feel like swallowing gravel.”

“I certainly don’t blame you,” Gojo says, with a smile, trying to cheer you up. “Hell, I know some of the other staff members have been dying to do it--”

“Ugh,” you bury your face in your hands. “This is a horrible impression in front of the whole school.”

He pats you gently on the shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, “when this is all over, I’ll take you out for ice cream. I know the best places in the city, and they all know me too!”

You summon a smile for him. He’s not so bad, really – sure, he’s chaotic and thinks too highly of himself for his own good, but . . . at least he’s nothing like Naoya. You stand up and pull down your shorts, wriggling your tank top down to cover you as much as you possibly can. You feel a bit exposed, not in heels and stockings and a blouse.

“I should get this over with, then.”

Gojo has too much to do back on the field to escort you to Naoya himself, so he tells you that Naoya’s in the Vice Principal’s office and gives you another friendly squeeze on the shoulder.

“Good luck,” he tells you. “Remember: ice cream at the end of this!”

“Ice cream at the end of this,” you repeat, as you watch him jog out of the corridor. You’re almost tempted to tell him off for running in the halls – Gojo moves so fast that sometimes you lose track of him entirely – but you push back the urge. Gojo is being decent today. You’re thankful to him for sitting with you and helping you calm – and also, evidently, for being one of the things that keeps Maki’s fighting spirit inflamed.

You stand there for a moment, in front of the door to the office, balling up your courage tight and hot in your stomach. You do not want to have to apologise to Naoya, but you know it’s for the best. The sooner you can put this sorry incident behind you and try and avoid Naoya at every single function from herein, the better – so you tap hard on the door and wait until you hear his slow, drawling voice.

“You can come in.”

At first, you’re surprised to see that he’s alone in there – sitting in front of the desk in a comfortable chair, clearly at ease with everything. His arms are sprawled over the back of it, his legs wide apart. You chastise yourself for thinking it immediately – of course the vice principal is busy right now, of course he trusts someone as well-known to the school as Naoya to be alone in his office.

It’s hard not to think about every other time you’ve found yourself alone with the parents of your students, though. A heat crawls onto your face at the very thought of it. You find Naoya repellent, disgusting – but then again, he’s also (and you’re not being glib about it) handsome. You’d be lying if you’d said you sometimes hadn’t ignored a man’s personality for a night in favour of a face and a body that had drawn you in.

Not now.

You close the door behind you, clasping your hands together so you don’t clench your fists, and bow your head so that Naoya can’t tell that you’re grinding your teeth.

“I’m sorry for letting my emotions get the better of me, Sir,” you say, though it really does feel like you are gnashing ice to get the words out. “I should have been more polite. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

“Mmm,” Naoya says, and you peek up at him through your lashes to see that he’s clearly enjoying having you at his mercy, his lips tilted into a smirk. His hair is still a little wet at the ends, but all that you throwing the water over him seems to have actually done is made his shirt cling tight to a surprisingly chiselled chest and stomach. Asshole. Fuck him. “Yes. I should hope not.”

You straighten yourself up, still a little stiff.

“I hope you can forgive me,” you say. “I . . . I am still learning my place in the establishment.”

He laughs, low and soft.

“Your place?” He asks, the words dangerously sweet on his tongue. “Yes. I can see you still need some help on that one.”

His eyes crawl over you slowly, dragging up and down the length of you, lingering over where your shorts cling to your hips and the tank top hugs your chest. You resist the urge to shift – you don’t want to let him know that he’s making you uncomfortable. You know, though, that he can sense that you have gone hot and prickly all over. He has that smug air; the one men who know what they do to people always seem to have cultivated. The knowledge that they are good-looking.

You suppose for Naoya, it’s the heady combination of knowing he is good-looking and powerful and rich, and you breathe through the force of all of his attention concentrated on you.

“Seeing as you’re still . . . new to all of this,” he says, bringing an arm forward to tap his long fingers on the desk. “And you did apologise prettily, I suppose I can forgive this transgression – just this once, darling.”

The pet name crawls up your spine like ice. He’s still staring at you, enjoying the view like you’re a piece of meat on a market stall he’s considering purchasing.

“Th-thank you, Sir,” you say, hating yourself a little bit but hating him all the more.

“You know,” he says. “You’re not exactly bad-looking.” He stands, rising to his full height, stretching out, frustratingly comfortable in this environment when you feel like a deer who’s about to turn tail and flee at any moment. “You’d be much better off at home raising children than here.” He wrinkles his nose. “Working for a living.” The way that he says the words makes it clear that he considers this a task far beneath the likes of him.

He’s moving towards you now, and your breath seems to get stuck in your throat as he’s suddenly in front of you, stalking elegantly. You want to snap back something about how you’d rather work for a living than have to rely on the whims of a man, much less a man like him – but as he grabs your chin to tilt it up to the light, you find that the words seem to die in your throat.

“Hmm,” he says. “Not bad at all.” He makes an approving noise that sends a flutter right through you, making you dully aware of a pounding ache between your thighs. He leans a little further in, until he’s so close that you can see the pale colours dancing in his eyes, the way the light hits his high cheekbones. “You’re trembling with rage, you know. It’s adorable.”

“You’re very easy to be angry at,” you half-breathe, half-hiss, and Naoya’s smirk is going to be burnt into your memory forever and ever.

“If you’re so angry,” he murmurs, “I can certainly think of a way I wouldn’t mind helping you work out your aggression.”

You shouldn’t do it. But your heart is beating a frantic rhythm against your ribcage and your breath is short, and part of you wants to wrestle him to the ground and dominate him so that he can have a taste of his own medicine. You grab a handful of his hair and drag him down into a bruising kiss.

3.

Oh, and he kisses back. His mouth is soft against yours, but the kiss itself is rough – both of your tongues fighting for dominance, both of you trying to nip at one another’s bottom lip and seize the victory. You’re practically shoved backwards so that your ass catches the edge of the Vice Principal’s desk, even as you tug hard on Naoya’s hair to tell him that you’re not going to be overpowered by him so easily. You feel the feral curve of his grin as he pulls back just enough to whisper;

“Oh? You really think you’re going to get the better of me? You’re cute--” and then you push his shoulders hard, and he stumbles and falls back onto the chair he started this whole escapade sat in. You reach down to tug off your shirt, dropping it onto the floor beside you – Naoya looks for a moment like he’s going to stand back up and resume trying to wrest back the situation into his favour, but as he sees the slight bounce of your breasts in your bra he seems to decide it would be more interesting and beneficial for him to stay exactly where he is and watch you disrobe.

So you do, wriggling your shorts down past your hips – he lets out a low groan at that, as you stand before him in nothing but your underwear with your fists clenched on your hips.

You feel surprisingly powerful like this. It definitely makes a difference from all of the other ways you’ve felt when you’ve been alone with somebody’s father--

“Take off your shirt,” you tell him, and you’re almost surprised at the imperious tone in your own voice. “It’s your turn--”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but he does as you ask. Long fingers curling around the hem of his shirt, taking his sweet time pulling it off his body – and yes, it’s a nice one. Nice, too, are his thighs as he undoes his trousers that probably cost more than you make in a year and pushes them down, sitting before you in nothing but his equally as expensive-looking underwear – an impressive looking bulge outline pressed against the fabric. Even as he looks at you, he takes hold of himself through it and squeezes it, his grin crooked.

Your body does a throb of need.

“Oh,” you say, feigning surprise. “I didn’t realise you were so needy already--”

“Like you’re not dripping,” he says sharply, his eyes zeroing in on the space between your thighs. “Don’t flatter yourself. I can see the damp patch from here.”

“Who’s to say that’s for you?” You walk towards him. You can’t help but feel powerful and in control at how his eyes follow you with rapt attention, how his tongue darts out to swipe across his bottom lip as he drinks in your form in front of him.

“Please,” he says. “As if there’s anyone here more deserving.”

He reaches forward and his hands settle on your hips, dragging you closer to him – hot fingertips brushing your waist, the bare skin beneath your bra before he’s unclipping that too and your breasts are bare. He breathes in deeply.

“Pity,” he says, though his voice is thick with his own arousal. “You’re such a cute little thing, if only you didn’t open your mouth--”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me opening my mouth to do something else,” you breathe, and you reach down to ghost your fingers over his cock through the tent in his underwear. He hisses through his teeth, his eyes half-lidded.

“Don’t just say it, princess,” he says. “If you’re going to run your mouth, the least you could do is make it do something useful--”

“I’d rather die than get on my knees for you.” Your mouth is very close to his neck – to punctuate the statement, you give his earlobe a tug with your teeth, and he practically groans. You’re almost straddling him on the chair, and you do not miss, either, the twitch that his cock seems to give at the tug.

It seems like for somebody who really wants to be in control, and wants women to know their place so badly, Naoya actually is rather enjoying somebody giving him a taste of his own medicine.

He grabs your underwear and pulls it down, clicking his tongue as it bunches about your knees.

“Just give into what your body wants,” he says, all saccharine sweetness in that slow, deep voice. “You’ve made a mess.”

You know you have. You can feel slick when your thighs press too close together, hot and wet between your legs. You really are practically dripping. But it’s not just from Naoya, you don’t think – it’s from the sudden power you’re feeling, the rush of being an equal participant in everything, in feeling like you have the upper hand. And not a small part, you think, is because of the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins at the thought of putting Naoya Zenin in his place. You tip your head to the side innocently.

“What about you?” You ask, with a mean shade to the pitch of your voice. “You’re so hard it’s a wonder you’re not in pain--”

He grabs a hank of your hair with one hand whilst spreading your legs further with the other, so strong that the breath’s knocked out of you. The tip of his finger skims the outer lips of your sex, gathering your slick arousal on the pad as he growls;

“I’m still a man, darling. I see a pretty cunt to fuck and a pair of nice tits and I want to bury myself into it until the bitch remembers her place--”

“Good luck,” you breathe. “I think you’ll be the one remembering his place, here.”

He laughs breathlessly.

“Oh,” he purrs. “You’re going to be singing a different song when you’re begging me to fuck you harder.”

You give him a smile with your teeth bared; the challenge is obvious. It’s a smile that says ‘we’ll see’, even as you both tug at his underwear to pull it down and reveal what he’s been hiding beneath it.

You don’t want to admit that he’s got a pretty cock, but he has. He’s not the biggest you’ve seen, but it’s still impressive; a slight curve giving it an elegant angle that you realise with a clench will hit you exactly in the right spot when you take it inside of you.

He’s slick with his own pre-come, bubbling from the reddened slit – and as you shift forward and trap it between your thighs, he groans aloud again.

“That’s right,” he grunts, as the tip catches on your entrance and you begin to sink down upon it. “This is what you were made for, princess--”

“What?” You pant. “That would be disappointing. You barely fill me up--”

He grabs you and pulls you into another kiss as you finish off sheathing his cock inside of you – perhaps to save his pride, perhaps to muffle the noise that comes out of him, transferred into your mouth instead of his own. Whichever it is, you hate that you were right about the angle of his cock – you can feel it pressing snugly against the spongy G-spot even now, threatening you with a better time than you’d like to have.

You break the kiss to pull yourself off of him and sink back down, forcibly taking the lead and setting your own pace. You know it’s fast, you know it’s greedy – but fuck, if you aren’t boiling over with need.

You splay your hands across his shoulders, nails digging into his skin with little care to how you might mark him. You need him for leverage, as you continue to bounce up and down on his cock. Naoya tips his head back and groans, enjoying the feeling, before he remembers that you two are engaged in a battle of wits and attempts to get the better of you once more.

“I-is that,” he groans, coming to cling onto your waist and force you down on him with even more strength, helping you along in the too-fast rhythm of your thrusts and bounces. “The best you’ve got?”

“Come on,” you say breathlessly, as his cock continues to stroke that spot. You can hear the sounds of him sliding in and out of you, shamefully loud – too, you can hear the sounds of your skin slapping against one another, echoing and mixing with the breathless pants and the attempts to trade barbed insults. “Y-you’re making me do all the work?”

“Fucking pity you’ve got such a nice cunt,” Naoya snarls, his hips flexing, somehow managing to hit you deeper even as you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet and straddling him on the chair. His words are starting to sound very far away. “You should be in my fucking bed, keeping it warm, better off than wasting away here--”

Both of you are running your mouths, overwhelmed by how close one another’s bodies are and the intense heat radiating from you. There’s a frisson of electricity in the air, showering sparks, as the two of you continue to snatch words in between moans and groans and pants and whimpers--

“You’re pathetic--”

“You’re so fucking tight, I shouldn’t be surprised when you’re such a bitch--”

“F-fuck, harder, c-can’t you even keep the momentum going? You’re weak--”

“Baby girl, you’re fucking shaking – you gonna come first? Women are so predictable--”

You can feel your release hovering on the edge of your vision, blurring it as your eyes squeeze shut and you feel tears threatening to roll down your cheeks. There’s a heat inside of you that’s close to overspilling – and as you come down on him particularly hard, the head of his cock rolls over your g-spot just right, and you feel a dam inside of you break as your nails dig hard enough into his shoulders to draw blood. You bury your face into his neck so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of hearing you cry out his name, teeth worrying into his neck to leave a love-bite reminder of exactly what transpired between you two in the Vice Principal’s office.

You feel yourself twitch and tighten around him as your orgasm rocks your body, heat running through you like veins of marble. You can’t breathe – all you can do is bite, your hips chasing the final aftershocks.

Naoya is still hard inside of you as you lift yourself off him, letting his cock slip out of you as easily as butter. His own hands clench around your hips.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asks, his voice rough and hungry. Despite that, though, you can hear the thread of some other emotion sewn in to them – and with a shiver of delight, you realise it’s neediness. He’s been left wanting, and you’ve been handed all of the cards. “I haven’t finished.”

“And you won’t finish inside me,” you snap at him, enjoying the longing in his voice. “Ask me very nicely and I’ll finish you off with my hand.”

“Mouth,” he demands – and he grabs your cheeks, squishing them, pulling you down and reminding you of all of the power that he has even though it’s your body that’s got the advantage of the high ground. “You don’t really think I’m going to be satisfied with your hand, princess--”

“You don’t deserve it,” you spit at him, but you sink to your knees anyway.

You’re not entirely lacking in manners. You suppose you did get to come. It would be rude to just leave him like this. Especially when the whole reason you’d ended up in this office in the first place was to apologise to him politely.

“This is the perfect position for you,” he sneers, as you open your mouth and envelope the head of his cock within it. You can taste yourself on his shaft. “Fuck, that’s right – put your mouth to good use for once--”

You give him a mean, slow lick along the slit of his cock head that makes him groan in the back of his throat. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, fingers digging into the nape so he can control you at least a little bit, pushing you a touch too far so you almost choke. You pull off it, drooling.

“Choke me again and I’ll bite,” you snarl, and he pats your cheek like you’re an obedient dog.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he says – and you narrow your eyes at him in a way that says ‘try me’ before you return to sucking at him, hollowing your cheeks. You want to do a good job. A part of you wants to make him come so hard that he regrets being an asshole to you, even though you know that’s ridiculous and not going to happen.

Still. You’re not going to back down from a challenge, so you use your tongue to play along as much of his cock as you can.

“Fuck,” Naoya breathes. “Good . . . good fuckin’ girl—”

You’ve been hearing that low, polite drawl swear and curse for what seems like hours, but that one sends another pulse of heat through you – at your heart, you can’t argue that you love being praised. You whimper against his cock, glad that the fast pace you’ve managed to establish and the wet noises of your mouth around him muffle the noise so Naoya can’t dangle it over your head.

The hand on the nape of your neck jerks, so that you’re forced to look up at him and meet his eyes proper. His hips are slamming to meet your bobs now, the noise of him fucking your mouth filling the room. His teeth dig into his bottom lip and you feel him twitch, his voice pitching--

Salt coats your tongue as he fills your mouth.

But he doesn’t let himself finish there.

He pulls out, and he pumps his cock himself two, three times – coaxing out the other ropes of come, that hit your neck and chest and breasts hot and white and glistening. You’re too surprised by it to do anything – you’d expected him to keep your mouth on him, make you swallow down everything he gave you. He seems the kind of guy who gets off on that sort of thing--

But instead, he’s sighing, relaxing back into the chair as he looks at you with lazy eyes.

“You look cute like that,” he says, his voice low and sated. “I should take a picture.”

“Fuck you,” you breathe, getting off your knees. You are so fucking thankful for the box of tissues on the Vice Principal’s desk, as you reach across and grab some to dab at yourself so you’re not sticky and disgusting for any longer than necessary.

If you leave them in his pedal waste-bin, you hope that the cleaning crew will dispose of them before the Vice Principal is even aware that they’re there. Your lip curls as you wipe your mouth. You wish you had a mint – or at least a glass of water. Even tap water would do.

For what it’s worth, Naoya seems a little agitated as he puts himself to rights too. Evidently he was not expecting you to fight back so much – he places a finger on his shoulders and scowls when he sees that you made him bleed.

“I should sue you for assault,” he says. You tap your own body, at the curve of your hips and waist.

“I’m going to bruise,” you tell him. “So I guess it would be self-defence.”

“You’re too smart for your own good,” he tells you, with narrowed eyes – and you give him another smile, one that is clearly fake, as you pull your tank top and shorts back on and re-tie your shoes.

You’re surprised as you go to leave the room and he sets a hand on the small of your back in a mocking echo of polite manners. As the two of you walk down the corridor towards the exit, he does not remove it. To the assembled crowds, you hope it will look entirely innocent – like the two of you have merely had a little chat and come to an agreement instead of heatedly fucking one another’s brains out.

You blink as you emerge out into the light, your eyes taking a moment to adjust. You see Principal Masamichi give you a sympathetic smile – and there’s Gojo, immediately charging towards you like an overprotective bear. He slows down as he sees the way that Naoya is still touching you.

“I hope everything’s alright,” he says, sounding stiffer and more formal than you usually hear. Naoya’s smile towards him is cold.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, “Perfect. You apologised beautifully, didn’t you, Miss?” Naoya looks down his nose at you, a conceited smile on his mouth. “I’ve decided to overlook this little transgression.” He leaves a pause, and you swallow as you realise what he’s waiting for.

“Thank you so much, Mr Zenin, Sir,” you say. Again, it feels like you have to force the words out through a mouthful of marbles – but they make it out of your mouth.

“Oh, don’t be so formal, Miss,” he smirks. “You can call me Naoya. I look forward to seeing you again – soon, I hope.”

“You’re just in time,” Gojo says coldly. “Maki just won the final race of the day for our team.”

Naoya’s gaze is sharp as he looks at him. His lip curls. You can tell that both of them want to do something – maybe have an out-and-out fist fight on the field. But Naoya manages to get a grip (you’re glad about it; you’re not entirely sure whether Gojo would have been able to hold back) and turns on his heel to stalk away.

He does give your ass one last squeeze, though, that you desperately hope that Gojo doesn’t notice.

Gojo’s shoulders stay set, his chin thrust proudly forward, until Naoya has been swallowed up by the crowd at large – and then, he turns to you. For the first time, you see his normally humorous eyebrows draw in with worry.

“You look upset,” he says. “Sweaty. You smell terrible. Do you need a minute?”

Your shoulders fall. Gojo gives you a sympathetic pat on the back.

“It’s a rite of passage to deal with someone from the Zenin family,” he says. “You’re just unlucky it happened to actually be Naoya today. He usually sends an underling or an uncle or someone to pretend to care about the girls.”

Wow. You sure hope the rite of passage has gone differently for everyone else.

“Why d’you think he came here today, then?” You ask Gojo. He looks at you strangely, a spark of something you can’t quite read in his eyes.

“Well,” he says, “he’s related to the Fushiguros, you know. I heard he and Megumi’s father have met up recently for drinks – it ended in a fight, of course, it always does. But maybe he expected Megumi’s dad to be here too?” He shrugs. “He can never resist an opportunity to relish over someone in his family winning, even if he doesn’t want Maki doing anything unladylike. Megumi’s dad isn’t here, though, so looks like that backfired on him--”

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you think about Megumi’s father fucking you on Gojo’s desk – and the lingering way that Naoya had said that he’d heard so much about you from everyone.

[biboybuckley]

don’t take me tongue tied

buck/eddie | college au - frat party | 2500 words | also on ao3

Listen, Buck is– he’s actually fairly intelligent, most of the time. He’s always gotten decent grades- mostly B’s with a few scattered A’s or C’s. He understands the material in his classes. He’s good at figuring things out. The only problem is- he gets bored. A lot , okay?

So, yes , he’s at UCLA because- hey, his SAT scores were the best in his high school, alright? He’s a good tester. Yes , he’s a civil engineering major. Yes , he has a huge fucking test in two days. And yes, he’s currently upside down on top of a keg practically being waterboarded by beer. It’s like, a law of being in a frat, okay? Besides. He holds the record. He’s got a reputation to uphold.

The blood is rushing to his head and beer is dangerously close to ending up going out his nostrils, but the crowd is screaming chug chug chug! and Buck is nothing if not a people-pleaser. He steels himself and does as the people demand, almost lightheaded now.

Then- he splutters. Chokes. Topples over. But it’s not his fault, okay? It’s the- listen, this guy is really hot, alright? Like, look- like-he-just-stepped-out-of-some-stupid-2010’s-romcom hot. So- maybe Buck chokes on his beer a bit. Sue him.

He quickly jumps to his feet, then grabs his friend’s arm for stability as his head swims. He blinks a few times, laughing as he shakes his head and tries to reorient himself. A few hands clap him on the back and the friend he’s leaning on, Lucy (they’re a gender-inclusive frat, get with the times people), grabs his wrist and holds his hand up with a whoop. Guess he upheld his reputation, despite the whole ‘falling over cause he saw a hot guy’ thing. Which- speaking of…

Buck’s gaze darts around the room, back to where he last saw the guy. He’s still there, leaning against the doorframe with a small, amused smile on his lips. His eyes sparkle even from across the room and his hair looks soft as it spikes in every which way, like an abnormally cuddly hedgehog. Buck gently twists his wrist out of Lucy’s grasp, nodding subtly towards where the guy is standing. Lucy just winks at him and leans in to whisper-yell, “Go get him, tiger!” She also may or may not slap his ass as he walks away.

Buck pushes through the crowd of people, somehow acquiring a beer as he travels, until he’s right in front of the stranger. Which- that in and if itself is enough to pique his interest. Four months into the semester, there’s not a lot of people Buck doesn’t recognize at these parties.

“I’m Buck,” he yells over the music by way of greeting. “Well- Evan Buckley. But friends call me Buck. Hey, you don’t look familiar.”

The guy snorts, rolling his eyes slightly. “There’s 30,000 kids at this school, and you’re surprised I don’t look familiar?”

Buck lets his eyes drag over the other man, from his worn-out red converse to the tips of his hedgehog hair. He grins suggestively and leans back against the doorframe opposite him. “Pretty sure I’d remember you.”

“Wow,” the guy scoffs. “That’s- wow.”

“Speechless already, huh?”

“You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?”

Buck grins, shrugging and taking a sip of his beer. “How about I get you a drink and you decide what I am?”

“Okay, I have to ask, do these lines actually work?”

Buck sighs, thumping his head back against the wood. “See, if you had the courtesy of being party-drunk like I am, then maybe.”

The man lets out a laugh at that- a real one, not mocking. “Alright, how about this: you’ve got approximately three drinks to convince me you’re better than your pickup lines.”

Another grin stretches across Buck’s face and he holds out his hand. The guy takes it and shakes it firmly, his eyes twinkling. “Deal.”

***

Eddie really is not the ‘party’ type. He’s at UCLA for one reason: to get his degree so he can become a licensed psychologist. He’s the first member of his family to get this far, and the only reason he did is because he spent the last two and a half years in the army. So, no, thank you very much, he’s not about to waste the education he almost died for on beer and frat people.

But…

Listen, his roommate Ravi is very convincing. And there’s only so many times that Ravi can call him a “mopey hermit” before Eddie starts to take it to heart. So, when Ravi finds out from his friend Lucy that there’s a party at the Phi Kappa Psi house and insists that Eddie goes with hime, Eddie’s just about out of reasons to say no.

He still tries.

“I’m busy.”

“You’re reading.”

“Yeah, a textbook.”

“For like the third time.”

“I have a test tomorrow.”

“You spent the past three hours studying.”

“Exactly, so I’m tired.”

Ravi throws a red bull at Eddie’s head and that’s the end of that.

So that’s how Eddie ends up at a frat party watching a halfway drunken idiot do a handstand on a keg. Albeit, a very attractive halfway drunken idiot. And yeah, okay, maybe Eddie’s having a hard time tearing his eyes away from the stretch of tan skin exposed by the guy’s ridden up shirt. But that is between him and his fluttering chest as the frat boy locks eyes with him, tries to smile around the valve, and then promptly topples over.

And very, very much despite himself, Eddie finds himself extremely endeared with this sparkly-eyed, curly haired human golden retriever. Endeared enough to agree to let the guy- Buck - get him a drink. Which is how he’s now nursing his second beer on a second floor hallway with the party raging on below him and drunken college students stumbling past every few minutes.

“So,” Buck says, leaning against the wall opposite him and grinning at Eddie. “Buzzed enough to tell me your name yet?”

“Hmm,” Eddie pretends to consider, propping himself up with an elbow on the railing behind him. “I’m considering it.”

“Oh come on,” Buck whines and no that doesn’t send something electric spiking through Eddie, not at all. His pink lips turn down in a pout and Eddie is so fucked. “Please? I can’t keep just calling you Hot Guy in my head.”

“How about you tell me about that first?” Eddie dodges, gesturing with his beer at the discolored mark on Buck’s temple. Buck’s face flushes, his cheeks turning a similar color. He ducks his head down, as if to hide his face, and Eddie feels a strange mixture of guilt and fondness. He pushes off the railing and steps closer to Buck.

“Hey.” His voice comes out low and rough, somewhat surprising himself. He sets a hand on Buck’s shoulder, his thumb pressing into his neck lightly. “That wasn’t meant to be rude. It’s cute- I’m just curious where it came from.”

Buck chuckles quietly, glancing up but not meeting Eddie’s gaze. “Born with it. Birthmark.”

Eddie leans in close enough so his lips brush the shell of Buck’s ear and he feels the other man shiver. “You turn the same color as it when you blush.”

“Alright, seriously,” Buck says when Eddie steps back. “You gotta tell me who you are, man. Anyone that makes me blush this much owes me a name.”

“Eddie,” he grins, lifting his beer bottle to his lips and watching as Buck’s eyes track the movement. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and Eddie clenches his jaw tightly, gripping the railing. “Eddie Diaz.”

“Nice to meet you, Eddie Diaz.” Buck’s lips turn up in a lopsided grin and he nods at Eddie’s beer. “You ready for another?”

“Buckley, are you tryna get me drunk?”

Buck shrugs one shoulder, grin not slipping, eyes twinkling. “Just tryna get you to relax a bit.”

“Hey, I told you from the start that I don’t make a habit of this.”

“More like you’ve never actually done this,” Buck snorts.

Eddie’s gaze slides away and he takes a deep swig of his beer in lieu of answering.

“Oh my god,” Buck says. “You’ve never done this.”

“Listen-”

“You’re a total nerd, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like a stays-in-all-night-studying, doesn’t-go-to-parties, my-best-friend-is-a-textbook nerd.”

“I am not,” Eddie insists. “I just- I don’t get out a lot, okay?”

“You’re a hot guy in college, there’s literally no excuse.”

Eddie feels himself grin. “You think I’m hot?”

“I- well- I mean-” Buck’s face reddens as he stammers. “Have you seen yourself?”

Eddie shrugs. “Once or twice.”

Buck lets out a laugh. “God, you’re not funny, Eddie Diaz.”

“Then why’re you laughing?”

“Because a hot guy told me a bad joke, so the sensible thing to do is laugh.”

“You really are quite a flirt, Buck.”

Buck shrugs, smirking. “Better than my lines though?”

“Maybe just a bit,” Eddie concedes, sipping the last of his beer. Buck lets out a whoop and pumps his fist and Eddie’s so fucking endeared.

“Told you I’d convince you.”

“You did indeed. But you also said you’d get me three drinks and, would you look at that, just finished my second.”

“Then let's go get you a third,” Buck practically giggles, pushing off the wall and heading toward the stairs. He stumbles on the second step and almost pitches down the entire flight before Eddie’s hands dart out and steady him, one hand going to his waist and his other gripping his elbow, fingers curling around his forearm.

“Better idea– let’s get you some fresh air.”

Buck laughs tipsily. “Okay that might not be the worst idea. I’m like…” He holds his hand out in front of him and ticks down fingers, “four ahead of you, not counting the keg stand.”

“Yeah, okay, you definitely need some air.”

“Hey! I’m fun when I’m tipsy!” Buck defends as Eddie steers him down the stairs, still holding onto his waist and elbow. Buck’s arm comes up to sling over Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m a lot bolder.”

“Well, given that you’ve been blatantly hitting on me for the past half hour, I would definitely hope so.”

“Most people call me a flirt no matter what.”

“Are you flirting or are you just hot and talking to them?”

“I-” Eddie risks a glance at Buck and finds him pouting in confusion. “There’s a difference?”

Eddie laughs as they head toward the back of the house, Buck occasionally calling out a greeting to people they pass. His arm doesn’t leave Eddie’s shoulders, sitting comfortably with their height difference and Jesus , this is a big man and why does Eddie find that so fucking attractive?

They push out the back door and into the crisp night air and Buck instinctively takes a deep breath, one Eddie feels against his own ribs. Buck tugs on Eddie’s shoulders, directing them towards a bench in the grass. The backyard is dimly lit with string lights and shockingly empty. There’s only a few students hanging around, and none near the bench.

Buck and Eddie- BuckandEddie, Eddie thinks- sit on the bench, directly beside one another despite there being plenty of space. Eddie is acutely aware of every point of contact between them- Buck’s knee knocking against his, Buck’s warm, solid thigh pressed against his, Buck’s arm still slung over his shoulders.

“So,” Buck huffs out, settling back against the bench. “You like guys right?”

Eddie nearly chokes on his own tongue, spluttering. “I- yeah- I mean- yeah? Why would you-? Huh?”

Buck blinks at him, tilting his head. “Well… I’ve kinda been hitting on you all night, and you just- you don’t seem all that interested?”

“I-”

“I mean- not that you can’t be into guys and not into me- it’s not like- I’m not that conceited I swear- I just meant-”

“Buck,” Eddie interrupts, grabbing his knee and squeezing to cut him off. “Yes I like guys. And yes, I like you. But I, uh… it’s embarrassing okay? But it’s not you.”

“Well now you have to tell me,” Buck insists, shifting so his body is angled towards Eddie, his eyes sparkling.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, otherwise I’m just gonna go on being offended.”

Eddie sighs heavily, tilting his head back. “I’ve never kissed a guy,” Eddie mutters.

Buck coughs beside him, probably choking on his own tongue as Eddie had just minutes before. I’d rather choke on his tongue, Eddie thinks.

“What?” Buck demands.

“I’ve never. Kissed. A guy,” Eddie repeats through gritted teeth.

“I- huh?”

“Listen,” he sighs, “I didn’t come out until Senior year of high school, then I was in the army and had a lot of other things to worry about. Now I’m where and, well, in your words “a total nerd.” Though, I gotta say I prefer my roommate’s term for it, which I never thought I’d say.”

“What’s his term for it?”

“Mopey hermit.”

“Fitting.” Eddie scoffs, shaking his head. “But, seriously, you’ve never kissed a guy?”

“Nope.”

“Like… never ?”

“Nope.”

“Have you kissed anyone?”

Eddie shrugs. “Couple girls in high school but I’m entirely gay, so I don’t totally count them.”

“I am… so sorry. You’re missing out.”

“Oh am I?”

“Yep,” Buck affirms, popping the P, grinning and oh god, his lips are like really, really fucking kissable.

“Interesting,” Eddie murmurs, unashamedly looking at Buck’s lips now.

“I could uh, I could show you, if you’d like,” Buck says as they drift closer. “Just for… practice.”

“For practice,” Eddie echoes. “Of course.”

“Yeah, just for-” and then Eddie’s closing the distance completely, sealing his lips against Buck and holy fuck, yeah Eddie’s been missing out. Buck’s lips are soft- softer than Eddie remembers the girls’ being, and warm and firm and insistent against Eddie’s, and the arm over Eddie’s shoulders wraps around his neck and pulls him closer and Eddie lifts his hand to cup the side of Buck’s face and god, Eddie’s ruined.

Buck’s tongue prods his lower lip, coaxing Eddie’s mouth open and Eddie complies happily, relishing in the slide of their tongues and the press of their mouths, in Buck’s other hand coming up to tangle in his hair and he’s leaning into Eddie and he’s warm and solid and everywhere.

They break apart a few moments later, after what feels like a lifetime and no time at all, and Eddie stares at him, searching blue eyes, panting slightly. Buck looks dazed, his lips redder than usual and his eyes shining as he grins.

“Buck,” Eddie says carefully, “do you wanna come back to my place?”

“Fuck yeah,” Buck breathes, stroking the back of Eddie’s neck. “Thought you’d never ask.”

They pass Ravi on their way out, flirting with a cute guy  and raising an eyebrow at Eddie as Buck briskly pulls him along through the house.

“Don’t come home,” Eddie hisses as they hurry past. In response, he gets a clap on the back and a whoop .

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 1

... I have no self-control do not perceive me

Marinette stared at the pile of bright red, yellow, and green clothes on the ground. It was all she’d done in the five-ish minutes since she’d portaled onto the scene. Just… stared.

It wasn’t like there was much else to do, anyways. Red Robin was currently beating the absolute fuck out of the person that had the audacity to disintegrate his brother right in front of him. It wasn’t like she could even fix it because the witch had been out cold before she had been able to pull Red Robin off to get a hit in so she could use her lucky charm.

So, she stared.

It was weird. She could almost feel a person inside the clothes but… maybe that was the residue or the ashes or whatever gets left behind when you zap a person out of existence? She didn’t really want to check, to be honest. Gross.

Eventually, though, she hesitantly leaned down and brushed her hand over it, trying to find the energy and get rid of it because it was really uncomfortable --.

… oh hell no that pile of clothes did not just fucking giggle at her.

She narrowed her eyes and carefully lifted up the bottom of the shirt, only to yelp and fall back. She scrabbled on the gross Gotham alley ground until her back hit Red Robin’s arm and he was forced to pause or risk hitting a meta (which would not have been good for his health).

“What?” He hissed.

She swallowed thickly. “That’s a child.”

“... what?” Red asked, all the anger bleeding from his tone in his confusion.

“We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby,” she whispered… then, it sunk in more. “We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby.”

He straightened on top of the thing that was really more bloody pulp than person at this point. “What do you mean ‘we let Batman’s kid turn into a baby’?”

But she didn’t really get a chance to answer because the baby chose that exact moment to be sick of being suffocated under all the armor and pushed it off.

Red Robin gulped. Because, yep, that was Robin as a baby. Batman was going to kill them.

Except he wasn’t going to kill them. Because Batman doesn't kill. No, Batman would find something even worse and that would suck.

The baby -- Robin? Should she still call him that mentally? -- giggled at their pain. Like an asshole.

They were so fucked.

~

He’d let B’s favorite kid get turned into a baby. Was there a way to get unadopted? Because if there was it was totally going to happen. Or maybe his dad would just cut him off because he was 19 now and could just get kicked out.

No. Nope! Not going to happen. No. He could fix this.

“Okay. Okay okay okay. We need a plan,” he heard himself saying.

Ladybug scoffed. “We? I was barely even here, this is on you.”

“Leave me alone to deal with this and I swear to god I will tell B that you did it.”

She paled. “You wouldn’t. No way.”

“Yes way. So, help me think of something.”

The baby giggled and started crawling over and both of them averted their eyes because, unfortunately, the child did not get baby clothes to go with his random transformation. Baby Damian didn't seem to care as he reached them and started climbing on Ladybug since she was closest. At least it wasn’t him. He did not want to see his adoptive brother’s… ew.

Ladybug made a gagging sound and then quickly summoned a lucky charm. She kept her face turned away as much as her neck would physically allow as she fumbled her way through swaddling the child in a polka-dotted blanket.

And then her shoulders slumped a little. “Great. Great. This is… great,” she muttered, picking up the bundle o’ baby.

He let himself look down now that it was safe.

“Alright, we need to go to another dimension where time moves faster,” Ladybug said after a few seconds. “And then we wait for him to age… fifteen-ish years. Best way to not make Batman notice.”

“... what about us? We also age.”

“Huh…? Oh. Right. You’re human.” She pulled off the glasses she was wearing and blinked a few times before handing it over. “Congrats on your upgrade. The tiny horse god is named Kaalki. She likes cake.”

“The tiny --?” He let out the world’s manliest screech as his eyes landed on the floating bug horse hybrid thing holy shit no no no no no the sci fi movies didn’t prepare him for this shit.

Kaalki looked a little offended but then her eyes landed on the baby and she gasped. “Aw, baby humans are always so cute.”

“Great, Kaalki, you take it,” said Ladybug.

Kaalki did try, to her credit. It just so happened that the approximately one-year-old baby was a lot bigger than the… whatever she was. Tim was refusing to believe that this was a god. Too many implications. He already had something to have a breakdown over, he didn’t need another thing right now, thank you very much.

Tim rested his head in his hands but he had more things to worry about than the blood that he was accidentally streaking through his hair.

“Okay. Okay. We can go to another dimension and try and raise him. Maybe we can make it have a ratio of one month here for every year there so any differences could be blamed on that.”

“Ya!” Said baby Damian. He probably didn’t actually know what was going on but he sure seemed excited so that was cool.

Ladybug sighed and nodded. “Great. You get food and money and clothes and I’ll take this lady to the cops… and I guess I’ll watch the kid until you get back because your dad cannot know.”

They shook on it.

~

This may be the dumbest idea that she’d ever had, and that was saying something. She didn’t know if she could trust Red Robin on this one, they hardly ever worked together. What if he just left her alone with this kid and let her try and figure this out on her own?

No. He wouldn’t do that. He was the last person known to be with Robin. Robin going missing would be bad for him, too. And, besides, she was pretty sure that he was a duty-driven person based on what she’d heard, she just had to hope that he saw this as his duty, too.

She turned the baby in her arms to get more comfortable as she waited for him to (hopefully) come back.

Part of her wanted to try and find someone from this world to reverse this but she didn’t know any outside of her, Adrien, Alix, and (now) Red Robin. Not on a personal level. Not enough that she knew for sure that they wouldn’t blab to Batman about it.

So, no, this is what she was doing.

But she had things to do. So, she pulled out her yoyo-phone-hybrid-thingy and wedged it against her ear.

“Chaton,” she said the moment he picked up. “You’re alone, right?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Great. I, Ladybug, relinquish the Miracle Box and name Chat Noir the new guardian.”

“WHAT --?!” He didn’t get to finish as a box dropped on his lap and knocked the wind out of him.

“Just for, like, a year and a half. Sorry. Bye!”

“DON’T JUST ‘BYE’ ME WHAT THE --?!”

She hung up and closed the yoyo, hooking it back to her belt and ignoring it when it started buzzing again.

She looked down at Robin, who was squinting up at her. She returned the squint. Why was this baby so quiet? She didn’t get it. Surely, he should have been crying at this point.

“Do you still… remember things?” She asked, hoping against all hope that maybe he had retained his memories at the very least.

Robin smiled at her, but it was the blank-eyed baby smile that meant he wasn’t really understanding her. She bit down a curse.

Great. So, she’d not only gotten a baby but she’d gotten a fucking weird one. Great.

~

Tim left a note for his family saying that he, Damian, and Ladybug were bored and were going dimension hopping. His family would probably be suspicious but, hey, at least it wouldn’t be his problem for a good fifteen years on his end.

And, yeah, he knew this was probably one of his dumber plans but… it wasn’t the dumbest. And he was always one to commit when it came down to it. One time he had faked being shot and dealt with crutches for an entire year just to convince Vicki Vale that he wasn’t Red Robin. He had no fears that he couldn’t see this through.

Ladybug, though? A total mystery. She did nearly everything on a whim as far as he knew. She hopped from city to city fighting crime for absolutely no reason outside of boredom and made up all of her plans on the fly. No, he was a bit concerned about her ability to keep doing it.

So, he went as quickly as he possibly could. There was no rhyme or reason to what he was grabbing. He was just… putting stuff in there. There was money and three watches to help them move between dimensions, yes, but there was also a fanta orange and a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy and exactly seven pairs of socks.

… yeah, he had the necessities. Probably.

He nearly got out the door before he realized he was still in his crime-fighting gear and he quickly shucked it all off and tossed it into the tub so the blood wouldn’t track any more than it already had. He did not need to avoid Batman’s wrath only to end up on the receiving end of Alfred’s.

He pulled on the first hoodie and jeans he could grab and looked around to make sure he hadn’t left anything of importance.

Okay. Now he was ready to go.

~

Marinette was awkwardly bouncing the baby when Red Robin finally showed up.

… not that she would have recognized him if she hadn’t felt Kaalki hovering in his pocket. In her eyes, he was just a random white guy wearing shades in the middle of the night.

She glanced up at him and gave him an awkward smile.

“Ready?”

He smiled back and held out two watches. Neither fit baby Robin so she prepared herself to choke out a literal baby holy fuck what even was her life.

“Which dimension should we go to?”

“Preferably one without miraculi,” Marinette said. “I don’t want to know what happens if there’s two of the same god in a dimension.”

He nodded slowly. “Probably best if Batman doesn’t exist, either, he’d probably notice my existence.”

“... so… no heroes at all?”

“Looks like we’re going cold turkey,” Red Robin said in a tone that was probably supposed to be joking but just came out flat.

She pushed herself to her feet and waited as he scrolled through the millions of dimensions.

Finally, he came upon one and she added the coordinates to her and Robin’s watches.

She readied Robin’s watch against his neck and tried to ignore the kid’s sudden squirminess.

“3… 2… 1…”

They were gone in a whirl of blue light.

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Blind Spot

Spencer Reid x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Word Count: 2640

Warnings: Hair pulling kink! Bucketloads of sexual tension but no actual sex. Gratuitous facts about bird nests. Dorks being oblivious. Lots of fluffy heart-eyed banter. Accusations of intercourse with fictional tree-beasts. 

A/N: I saw a gif that made me want to pull Spencer’s hair. That’s it. I have zero shame. 

For the “friends to lovers” square on my @cmbingo​ card! Proofread by @fangirlxwritesx67​ because she’s the best. 

“You look like you fucked an Ent,” you commented cheerfully, stealing sideways glances at Spencer while you waited for the light to change.  

“Thanks, that’s helpful.” He grimaced, trying to tug another burr out of a snarled curl. 

“Oh my god, you’re just making it worse! I’ll help you when we get back to your place. Leave it, you goober.” 

“Did you just call me a goober?” Spencer asked, trying not to laugh. 

“You’re like the dictionary definition of a goober,” you said fondly. 

“I have three PhDs!”  

“I really wish I’d gotten a video of that tumble, Doctor Goober.” 

Spencer was blushing, grinning down at his lap as he shredded a piece of leaf. It was hard not to stare at him when he smiled like that. 

He’d essentially face-planted into a burr bush earlier, somewhere in the Virginia woods — he’d been so excited about explaining some wonky bit of Star Trek physics theory to you that he just forgot to pay attention to his feet — and he’d floundered out with half a hedge stuck in his hair before picking up exactly where he’d left off. 

In other words, Doctor Spencer Reid was a ridiculous human being. You knew that, objectively. It didn’t stop you from having a massive crush on him. 

Either he was pretending not to notice, to spare your feelings, or he was socially oblivious; you tended to believe the former, considering how well you’d seen him read other people, but you appreciated it. There was a chance you’d make it out of this — if you could just get over it already — with your friendship intact. 

You cleared your throat and told him, “You look like the bastard child of Grandmother Willow and the Wizard of Oz scarecrow.” 

“Even if they were real, the anatomical —” 

“You didn’t mention that when I brought up the Ents. Something you want to tell me about you and Treebeard?” 

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffed, trying to sound exasperated, but he could barely keep a straight face for a second before he was laughing, that scratchy sunny childish giggle that only came out when he was really relaxed and carefree. 

“Close the window before a bird sees you and decides to take up residence.” 

“How about you watch the road?”

“What, no facts about bird nests?” 

“Is that a rhetorical question?” 

“Nope.” 

“Well in that case… gyrfalcon nests are frequently re-used and passed along for generations. The oldest one that’s been discovered was in Greenland, and it was actually estimated to be approximately 2,500 years old.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yes! In fact…” 

You had to remind yourself, yet again, to stop staring. 

Maybe someday you’d get sick of hearing Spencer talk, but you couldn’t really understand the way most of your teammates reacted to his rambling. Even if you didn’t care about what he was saying, there was something amazing about the way his eyes lit up and his hands fluttered around to illustrate his point.

You parked in front of his building and followed him upstairs. His apartment had become comfortingly familiar — ever since you and Spencer bonded over a shared love of sci-fi, you’d taken to driving him home and, if it wasn’t too late, sticking around for an episode or two of Doctor Who.  

He got his ancient little DVD player up and running, and you settled on the couch, fluffing pillows and shoving aside his nest of colorful crocheted blankets, getting cozy. There was something about Spencer’s space that always felt like home; maybe it was the smell of books, or just the general Spencer-ness of the whole place. 

Just being around him had always kinda felt like home, too. Sometimes you forgot you’d only known him for six months. 

He disappeared into his room for a second and came back with a comb. It was cheap plastic, missing a couple teeth, and looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. You looked from him to the comb and back again. 

“That actually explains a lot,” you said, grinning. Spencer rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor in front of you, leaning back against your shins, and after a dismayed glance at his curls, you commented, “We could always just shave it all off.” 

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” he said primly. 

You started with a couple of the less tangled pieces, finger-combing carefully through one soft lock at a time. You half-expected some comment about primates and social grooming, or at least a few facts about the quantum theory behind the TARDIS, but Spencer was uncharacteristically quiet and still, his eyes fixed on the TV. 

You separated out one of the worst knots, and he tilted his head to the side to give you better access. You were being as gentle as possible, but you knew you were hurting him at the first tug — he sucked in a breath, knuckles going white as his fingers clenched on his knees. 

“Sorry, I’m trying,” you sighed. 

With his head tilted like this, you could see the muscle clenching in his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. 

“S’okay,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s not — not your fault.” 

He sat there stiffly as you worked. His hair was silky, where it wasn’t hopelessly knotted, and you were close enough that you could smell whatever clean, sweet shampoo he used. Something about it made you want to hold your breath; it felt like you were too close. Spencer rarely let you inside his little bubble of personal space. 

Maybe that was why he seemed uncomfortable. He was usually so fidgety, tapping out a rhythm or twirling a pen between his long fingers, and it was strange to see him motionless like this. 

You ran your fingers through a de-tangled section, slow and careful, and Spencer shivered, his shoulders trembling for a moment before he went unnaturally still again. 

Spencer blurted out, “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

At the same time, you asked, “Are you cold?” 

You paused for a moment, surprised by the reaction, but after hesitating, Spencer just muttered, “Yeah. Cold.” 

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something. It was too warm, if anything; Spencer had a patchy flush crawling up his neck and over the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones. 

“Here you go, goober,” you said, awkwardly cheerful in an attempt to cover your uncertainty as you grabbed an afghan from the couch and draped it around his shoulders. 

“Thanks.” He pulled the blanket down onto his lap without looking at you. “But maybe I should just do this myself.” 

“You’re never gonna get this loose on your own, not without scissors,” you warned, plucking at the knot around the last burr in his hair. “I’ll just, um — I’ll try to be more gentle.” 

“Maybe just go for it,” he said. “Get it over with.” His voice had gone all high-pitched and strained, like he was on the verge of a panic attack. If this was how much he disliked physical contact, no wonder he always avoided hugging you. 

You tried to go quickly, figuring that one quick moment of pain was better than another ten minutes of making Spencer uncomfortable. In your nervousness, you ended up tugging the burr out much more abruptly than you’d intended, and Spencer let out this rough, low, choked-off sound. Before you could apologize, he was jerking away from you, curled in on himself with his shoulders up around his ears like he was worried you were going to hit him, and — 

“Sorry,” he said, voice cracking. 

— what? 

“Spence?” you said tentatively. “What—”

He was still just curled up on the floor in a ball of gangly limbs, but he half-turned to you, twisting around. He wouldn’t make eye contact, though; he was staring intently at the pillow that was on the couch next to you. It felt weird, looking down at him like this, so you slid down onto the floor, hoping it wouldn’t spook him. He shifted back slightly, but at least he didn’t flinch away. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t — this was a bad idea.” 

The profiler in you couldn’t help but notice a few details. He was blushing, for starters. His lower lip was red where he’d been biting it, and — this was the part that surprised you most — his pupils were huge. 

You knew what Spencer looked like when he was panicking, and this wasn’t it. 

“Oh,” you breathed. “Oh.” 

He looked down at his lap, frowning as he played with the loose thread in the cuff of his sweater. 

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I know you don’t feel the same way, I wasn’t trying to — I didn’t realize it would be like that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and—”

“Wait, what?” 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable! I shouldn’t have asked—”

“I don’t feel the same way about what?” 

“I know you’re not attracted to me,” Spencer said, barely audible. 

“You’re… you…what?” 

He looked up, at that, genuinely startled. There was something sweet and vulnerable shining in his eyes, and your heart was racing. You slid a little bit closer, so that your knees were almost touching Spencer’s as you faced each other, cross-legged. 

“I thought you knew.” His hushed, croaky voice broke on the last word. “I thought I was being obvious.” 

You gaped at him for a second before letting out a sharp, hysterical giggle. 

He ducked his head again, hiding behind a curtain of hair, but not before you saw the hurt expression that flashed across his features. 

“No, that’s not—” you blurted out. “Spence. Spencer.” 

“Forget it,” he said sharply, his body going tense like he was about to bolt. “Can we just forget this happened?” 

Before you could think better of it, you reached out and pushed a few curls back behind his ear, and then you grabbed, twisting your fingers in his hair to tug him forward. You cut off the startled noise he made with a clumsy, eager kiss. 

The angle was all wrong, both of you leaning forward awkwardly, but it felt like sparks all down your spine.

You pulled away just far enough to get the words out: “I thought I was being obvious.”  

Then Spencer was surging closer on his hands and knees, crowding into your space, until you had a lapful of rumpled doctor pressing you back against the couch. He cupped your jaw with gentle spidery fingers, gaze locked on your mouth, and leaned in slowly like he was still waiting for you to push him away. 

There was nothing awkward about it this time. If the first kiss was sparks, this was fireworks — it was such a goddamn cliche you wanted to kick yourself for thinking it, but it was true. Your head was spinning. Every pillowy press of his lips and soft slide of his tongue seemed to steal the breath from your lungs. 

By the time you broke apart you were panting, but at least you weren’t the only one. Spencer’s chest heaved as he pulled away. He was still staring at your mouth like he couldn’t help himself. Part of you wanted to kiss him again and maybe never stop, but another part of you was paralyzed, trying to process the fact that this was actually happening. 

You just wanted to put the world on pause so that you could memorize everything: the way he licked his lips, the smell of his laundry detergent, the barely-perceptible movement of his pulse — you’d never seen that before because you’d never been this close to him before. You wanted to hold onto it, even the less-than-perfect details — the soundtrack of buzzy Dalek screeching in the background — the way you were folded together on the floor, all too-long legs and bony elbows, which was going to get uncomfortable fast.  

Spencer seemed to feel the same way. He grazed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, then followed the curve of your smile out to your temple and traced the shell of your ear with careful fingertips. When he brushed his curled-up fingers along the ridge of your cheekbone, you turned your head and kissed his knuckles.  

His hand came to rest on your shoulder, and you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, holding it in place, feeling the blood and bones shifting under the skin.  

“You really didn’t know?” you whispered. 

He shook his head shyly and gave you one of those incandescent smiles that always made your heart race. “No idea.” 

“I thought you were just ignoring it to spare my feelings,” you confessed. 

“I thought you were doing that.”  

“I thought you were good at your job!” you laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” 

“I think I have a blind spot, where you’re concerned.” He was blushing again. “But I was so distracted by you that I walked into a bush! How did you not —” 

“I’m the one who stares at you all the time like a creep.” 

“You thought you were being creepy?” he said sheepishly. “As soon as you started touching my hair — oh my god that’s embarrassing.” 

“That’s not the word I would’ve used.” 

You tangled your fingers in his curls, tugging experimentally. His breath hitched. 

Both of you were utterly still for a moment, watching each other, and the tension between you seemed to fill the air like a living thing. You were excruciatingly aware of all the places your bodies were touching.

You considered all the places you could touch. It would be so easy. You could tug him in, kiss him, melt into each other… there were so many possibilities, suddenly, and there was something incredible about that: the electricity, the excitement, the moment of pure potential in the pause between certainty and action. 

Spencer sighed, long and shaky, and you were so close that you could feel the current of exhaled air. 

“I couldn’t think straight,” he murmured, with a twitch of a smile. “That doesn’t happen to me often.” 

“So you didn’t know…” 

You scritched your fingernails down his scalp, marveling at the way he shivered and swayed closer like he was hypnotized. He curled his hand around the side of your neck, thumb slowly stroking the hinge of your jaw. 

“I knew I liked it,” he confessed. “But — within a certain context? Not out of nowhere like that. I didn’t think it would be... like that.” 

“Like what?”

“Intense.”  

“Yeah?” 

“But I think maybe it’s just you.” His eyes had gone all glassy and heavy-lidded, and you could barely breathe. “Maybe you drive me crazy no matter where you’re touching me.” 

“I can think of a few ways to test that hypothesis.” 

You caught a glimpse of his grin, but then he pressed his forehead to yours and his features went blurry, too close for you to focus.

“Never really thought I’d be into dirty talk, but if you’re going to start quoting the scientific method…” 

“Funny, most of the time you never shut up,” you said, giddy and overwhelmed. 

The tip of his nose brushed yours. There was maybe an inch of space between your mouths, and you wanted to close that gap so badly it felt like a physical ache. 

“I mean, if you want me to start rattling off statistics—” 

“Spencer.” You fisted both hands in his hair, tugging sharply, and he shuddered. “Take a hint.” 

“Blind spot, remember?” he whispered, lips brushing yours as they shaped the words, feather-light and maddening. 

“You know, for a genius—” you started, but he kissed you, hungry and sweet like he was making up for lost time, until you’d completely forgotten what you were going to say. 

.

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There is now a sexy follow-up here! 

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If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message! 

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Writing Snippet #10

O Positive

Part 2

Ok so @im-a-wonderling had a FANTASTIC idea for a snippet, but I’m putting the ask below to not cause spoilers lol:)

Special thanks to @im-a-wonderling as well for the beta read, edits, suggestions, and expert medical knowledge to help make this way more realistic than my original draft! You’re amazing!!!

—————————————————

Hero shifted from side to side as she stood in line, fingers clutching a bottle of orange juice.

“Well you’re prepared.” Hero’s head shot up as the attendant waved her forward. “Normally people wait until after to go for the juice.”

She chuckled nervously. “That’s me... prepared.”

“ID?” She scrambled through her wallet, making sure she didn’t grab either of the two aliases she’d already used at different locations that morning.

She would have used the same ID, but last time she’d tried to explain that she healed super fast- a result of her powers- and could donate more, the resulting argument had lasted nearly an hour, with nurses questioning whether her “magic blood” could even be used at all (it was perfectly normal blood thank you very much), and they’d still only let her donate the normal amount.

She handed him the correct ID, and he shoved a clipboard full of paperwork at her. A phlebotomist led her to a reclining chair. Even though she’d filled out the information twice that morning, it still took approximately twelve years to finish the stack of forms. The phlebotomist returned, and began asking her an equally long list of questions. She only half paid attention to the stream of questions.

Have you received any blood transfusions?

No.

Have you traveled in the last 6 months?

No.

Are you free of HIV or any other blood diseases?

Yes.

Have you ever been pregnant?

Yes.

Wait! No!

The phlebotomist chuckled as she snapped on a pair of gloves. “Ok let’s see that arm.” Hero held out her mark-free arm. After the first donation that morning, the needle mark and resulting bruise had been gone in a matter of minutes. After the second, she’d had to wait over thirty minutes before the signs of her deception to fade. The phlebotomist wrapped a tourniquet above her elbow before consulting her paperwork.

“It says here you’d like to do a double donation?”

“Yes.”

“You have to be 150lbs in order to donate that much sweetie.” The older woman eyed Hero dubiously.

Her throat went dry. “I know. I am.”

“I’m just going to take one bag today; you’re looking a little pale, honey.”

“But the other phlebotomist let me—”She cut off and cleared her throat. “I mean, last time I donated. It was fine.”

The phlebotomist shook her head as she felt the inside of Hero’s arm for the vein.

Hero forced a cheery smile. “This is important. I’ll be fine.”

By tomorrow, she added silently. Or the day after that...

Last time she’d only been able to get in one regular and one double donation before she’d gotten called into help with a work emergency. She’d spent the rest of the day in bed, but had woken up fine the next morning. Of course, that was only half the amount of blood...

The woman narrowed her eyes before shaking her head.

“The shortage is the worst it’s been in years, but I’m only going to take one bag today.”

“But—”

“Unless you’d like to go stand on that scale over there?”

Hero blanched, then mutely shook her head.

The woman muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I thought not,’ before raising her voice to a normal volume. “And make sure to take it easy and drink that orange juice you’ve got there.” She nodded at the bottle in Hero’s hand as she swabbed her arm with an alcohol wipe and picked up a needle.

“I will.”

————— 30 minutes (or so) later —————

Hero made it ten steps out of the building before she collapsed against the wall, head swimming. She peeled the tape and cotton ball off her arm. Blood immediately began to trickle down her forearm.

She struggled to unscrew the cap of her juice, hands shaking. Finally, she succeeded, the cap slipping through her fingers and bouncing against the sidewalk. She brought the bottle to her lips, but only managed a few sips before her stomach revolted. She clamped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, willing herself not to throw up.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, ignoring the curious stares from pedestrians on the crowded downtown street.

She needed to get home.

A quaking boom shook the ground, and Hero cracked open her eyes to see a plume of smoke a few blocks over.

Most likely the bank on main. Or the diamond store next door.

She took a step towards the plume of smoke, but the ground was still rocking, and she had a feeling it wasn’t from the explosion. She closed her eyes as panicked civilians began running to and fro.

Her phone rang out in a pealing tone, sending her a foot into the air, her orange juice falling to the ground with a sticky splash.

The emergency line.

Groaning, she accepted the call.

“Hero! Villain just set off a bomb on Main Street.”

“Diamonds or bank vault?”

“BOTH! You need to get over there now!”

Hero covered her eyes. She wanted to, she really did. If only the ground would stop moving.

“It’s my day off. Send Other Hero.” She cringed at her seemingly callous words, but she didn’t think the Hero Agency would exactly condone what she’d just done.

Even if she was just trying to save lives.

“Other Hero is undercover spying on Supervillain. Your phone shows you are six blocks away. That will take you 12 seconds to get your speedy butt over there.”

A second explosion rocked the ground.

Oh he didn’t. Hero growled, pushing off the wall and taking a hesitant step forward.

The ground was finally still. Much better. She pulled out the spare mask she always kept in her purse and fitted it across her eyes.

12 seconds, she scoffed.

————— 9 (and a half) seconds later————

Hero skidded to a halt in front of the shattered front windows of Pristine Diamonds.

The windows of the bank next door were in a similar condition. She rested a hand against the ash stained wall, gasping as the world spun.

She forced her head up, scanning the scene. A gaping hole had been blown in the wall connecting the two businesses, and smoke was still pouring out of both buildings. She darted into the diamond store, moving without her super speed through the black air. She made it to the back of the store, where the massive safe stood empty, the door hanging drunkenly off one hinge.

She cursed and made her way to the jagged hole. She was halfway across the bank lobby when a figure leapt from the smoke and she was thrown to the side.

She scrambled to her feet as Villain faded back into the smoke. His laughter echoed around her as she spun in desperate circles. The smoke thickened until it was nearly solid around her.

“You’re slow today, Hero.” The voice rang out behind her, and she whirled around, but there was nothing but smoke.

Her vision was truly swimming now. She swiped at her eyes. “And you’re extravagant. You can create smoke from nothing, you didn’t actually need to set off a bomb.”

“I was creating a passage between the businesses. They should thank me.” The voice was to her right, and she spun again. There was no point in super speed if she couldn’t see. Her head was starting to pound.

“And that outfit.” The whisper brushed against her neck, and she whirled around again, only to see the smoke curling in around the place where Villain had just stood.

She glanced down self-consciously at her pink shorts and baggy tie-dye T-shirt.

“You already ruined my day off. There’s no need to mock my clothes as well.” She huffed, taking determined strides in the direction she hoped was the door.

“Who said I was mocking?”

She sensed him behind her the instant before he attacked. She spun. He hit. She flew. Across the room. To the floor. Over chunks of rubble. And into a brick wall.

Her back cracked against the wall, knocking the air from her lungs.

Smoke swirled through the air as Villain emerged, the dark tendrils receding to lap at his heels.

He looked surprised; he’d never actually managed to land a blow that direct before.

Hero forced herself off the ground. It was time to retreat. She summoned her powers, but between her swimming head and the sharp pain in her leg, she made it only a few feet before sinking back to the ground with a quiet whimper of pain.

She forced her blurry gaze up to Villain, who was regarding her with a strange expression on his face.

“I thought you healed as fast as you can run.”

She blinked, and realized he wasn’t looking at her, but at her leg.

She looked down. Blood seeped from a long shallow gash on the outside of her calf, no doubt from a sharp piece of rubble.

Smaller cuts and bruises covered the rest of her body, and none of them were healing.

“That’s strange.” She wiped clumsily at the cut.

Villain’s eyes narrowed. “You seem oddly off your game, Hero. You haven’t lost that much blood.”

She mustered the energy to glare at Villain. “I did tell you this was my day off.”

“I wonder if it’s from the blood earlier.” She mused, floating on a hazy cloud.

The tendrils of smoke scattered as Villain knelt down beside her.

“What blood? You came to fight me when you were already injured?”

His voice sounded as though he was speaking through a tunnel.

“There’s a national blood shortage. Worst it’s been in years.”

“So?”

“So, I donated.”

Villain scoffed as he produced a cloth from somewhere and began wrapping it around her leg. “You have regenerative healing powers, a pint of blood wouldn’t have made you this weak.”

Hero shook her head and weakly held up five fingers.

Villain froze. “FIVE PINTS OF BLOOD!” He roared, smoke dancing angrily around them. “ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY INSANE!? YOU SHOULD BE DEAD RIGHT NOW!”

Her head throbbed with every word, and she flinched away.

“I heal fast.” It was barely a whisper, but his fiery eyes met hers.

“I don’t care how fast you heal. No one can survive losing half their blood.” At least now his rage was contained to a low snarl. He grabbed Hero’s hands and pulled her to her feet.

“Your hands are freezing! What were you thinking!? Why would you face me after donating that much blood?!? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

He continued to seethe as he swept Hero into his arms and strode through the bank. He paused only to swing a bulging duffle bag onto one shoulder before he swept out through a second gaping hole into a back alley. A dark SUV was waiting in the shadows. He tossed the bag into the back and slid Hero into the passenger seat.

She curled against the warm leather.

“I was just trying to help.” She mumbled, her voice muffled as she spoke into the headrest.

“I know.” A hand ran down her hair. “Close your eyes. Sleep.”

She forced her eyes wider, remembering. “I can’t. I have a job to do.”

Villain shut her door and rounded the car to the driver’s side. Slipping into place, he started the engine.

“Not today.” He managed a small smile even as his eyes crinkled in concern.

“It’s your day off, remember?”

Original request from @im-a-wonderling:

“I started thinking about a story where the hero donates blood and then the villain does something that the hero has to go and face them. The villain notices the hero is off their game, but assumes they’re just tired or something. Then, the hero gets injured. The injury is really minor in terms of blood loss, but the hero is pale and sickly and can’t stand up and the villain gets all protective like “WHY would you come and FACE ME if you DONATED BLOOD today?!” And the hero mumbles “They’re having a blood shortage.” And the villain is ready to wring the hero’s neck for not taking care of themselves. So they just scoop the hero up in their arms and brings them back to their lair to feed them and let them sleep.”

Again thanks so much for the request!! I hope I did it justice:)