#if any of my theories are right I will be shocked

[soutsuji]

Idea: Tsujimura as a recovering alcoholic

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[lucimaaie]

big deal ✧.* tlou

pairing - Ellie Williams x fem!reader, ellie williams x miller!reader

summary - you and ellie fight over your jealousness.

warning - short, not proofread bc what is that, lil angst to fluff, possibly occ ellie idk

jealousy was something ellie knew all to well. though she wasn’t exactly ready to deal with it in you. she didn’t entertain any other girl (not on purpose) and left you very mushy (to be kept private for that very reason, notes when she was gone with joel and tommy. and yet, you were jealous.

“i’m serious. i don’t see how she was flirting,” ellie walked along side you, ahead of joel and tommy who had been tuning in and out of the argument.

“really? she did the arm squeeze, el. i did that before we got together, remember?” you walked at a pace faster than anyone else, the embarrassment of having to explain your thought process making you want to run away just for a moment. yes, you were jealous of some girl you barely knew and yes you were having this conversation in front of your dad and uncle. it wasn’t something to be particularly proud of

“the arm squeeze?” ellie looked at you incredulously as she walked to keep up with you. “the arm squeeze.” she repeated.

“yes!” you stressed.

“the fuck is that?”

“it’s basic psychology, ellie. the arm squeeze means she likes you. did you not know that when i—“

“does it matter? i like you, not her.”

“i know that.”

“then i don’t get why this is such a big deal, i’m dating you!” though her words rang true something in them didn’t agree with you. maybe it was the just the heat getting to you and not envy. maybe, but it didn’t matter the reason because your feet took you elsewhere as soon as you got to an old abandoned outlet.

you walked around the open space, kicking rocks of debris around as you looked at the broken in and looted stores. some caught your interest and you ventured into them despite joel’s warning to not go too far. you hadn’t even noticed ellie creeping behind you as you flipped through old ripped magazines. “ellie!” you screamed, covering your mouth.

she looked equally as shocked as you as you waited for sounds of clickers, runners, or any monster in the shadows. when the coast was clear, ellie smiled sheepishly and leaned against the counter you sat on. “so..jealous.” she tapped the counter, looking up at you.

“i..don’t want to talk about it, el. you’re right. it doesn’t matter.” you flipped through the magazine as opposed to looking at her. the image of carefree teens looking back at you made you frown. ellie grabbed the paper from your hand and set it on the counter.

“you did an hour ago.” she said with seriousness this time.

“that was an hour ago. it’s not a big deal, like you said.”

ellie shut her eyes as you threw her words back at her. she knew deserved it to some capacity. “it’s not nothing. okay, maybe she was flirting, but i didn’t flirt back, i swear.”

“you don’t have to—“

“yes, i do because you’ll just keep talking about it until i get you to believe me.” she sat down next to you on the counter, her hand coming down over yours. her eyes flicked from your hands to your face.

“i believe you, el.”

“so, then why’re you still mad at me?”

“i’m not. not really. i mean, i was. it’s stupid. i don’t get jealous about anything but—“

“me?” she said, her eyes widening in surprise. you could tell the way she held back a smile, even if the mood was serious.

“no, cupcakes. yes you!”

“alright, alright. i’m just clarifying.” she held up her hands in peace. “you only get jealous about me? actually?”

“yeah. and it does not feel good being the jealous girlfriend. at all. i just started an argument with you over an arm squeeze.”

“you did.” she laughed lightly as she knocked her shoulder into yours.

“my theory is still valid.”

“bullshit. i smell bullshit.” she sung. “i get jealous when it comes to you too. i just..don’t say anything.”

“and i turn it into an argument.”

“both equally as shitty.”

“not a competition.”

“like hell it is.”

the light of flashlight flicked on and off and your direction. the sight made you and ellie squint your eyes before you recognized it was joel’s signal in a place like this. “c’mon. gotta get back before the oldies get grumpy.” ellie hopped off the counter and reached for your hand. you did the same and intertwined your fingers with hers.

“e?” you said as you two walked out of the store and into the empty space. she hummed. “if..when you get jealous. could you tell me?”

she looked at from the ground to you. she seemed to consider it for a moment before gnawing on her lip. “you’d get annoyed with me.”

“did i not just piss you off fighting with you?”

“eh.”

“i’m saying annoy me, piss me off back. i’m your girlfriend, i can handle that.” you shrugged as you spoke the words despite your feelings underneath the facade. the whole girlfriend thing was new to the both of you, who known each other for years at this point. you knew the most about each other than anyone else. neither one of you want to be the one to mess it up.

“i’ll hold you to that.” ellie said quietly. your words seemed to give her an unexpected confidence boost enough to pull you closer to her and press a gentle kiss onto your lips. her own were but a bit cracked but that didn't matter as her came to cup your face. she pulled back, eyes soft with affection and hint of anxiety for your reaction. this wasn't your first time kissing each other, she didn't know why she was desperate for- "mph!" she hummed against your lips as you kissed her again. this time still sweet, but not so gentle.

“are yall kissing?” tommy yelled.

you and ellie quickly dispersed, pretending to be enamored with the broken displays of the stores. it wasn't surprising that neither Tommy or Joel bought it. Joel simply waved you two over, glaring as you walked ahead of him, hand-in hand. the air of awkwardness barely lasted a minute before you and ellie burst out laughing, only to be shushed by a grumbling, mildly mortified Joel. "to be continued." Ellie mumbled into your ear.

thank you for reading!

[reidrum]

the prophecy part 1:

cards on the table, mine played out like fools in a fable | s.r.

A/N: trying something new…..this one’s been on my mind for too long and the angst hurt too good. sorry in advance ! perhaps a part 2 who’s to say ..,,,..,. ?

cw: bau!fem!reader, spoilers for prison arc, implied talks of SA (referring to when lindsey doses spencer in mexico), maeve donovan, just angst bro this doesn’t end well

summary: you and jj accompany spencer to cat’s correctional facility to play her games, except there’s more than one loser

wc: 2.1k

part 2

——————————————————————————

Cat Adams’ taunts and demands have led Spencer, JJ, and you to visit her in her correctional facility to play whatever game she has for him. Emily had you and JJ go with him given his erratic state from just being released, in hopes that you both could regulate and monitor the whole meeting.

You and JJ watch Spencer walk in stoically, sitting down across from Cat as she smiles at him. He angrily demands for his mother’s location, but she gets upset and tells him that he doesn’t get to treat her like a criminal. She only agrees to tell him the location if he plays her game, and figures out the secret she knows about Spencer.

Spencer’s brain works overtime to figure out what he’s missing, what Cat could possibly be holding against him that would make him deny the truth of it. He runs through all the scenarios; Spencer being able to now understand how it feels to have a parent used as a pawn, Cat wanting him to admit his love for her. But she shakes her head and reveals that a clue was left in a scrapbook in Spencer’s apartment.

You remember you took a picture of it when you went with Spencer to scope it out, and pulled it out to show JJ.

“Is that an X and a Y?” She ponders, “What could that mean?”

“I think it’s…” You stop halfway, realizing what it means. Your face drops and you look back in the room to watch Spencer come to the same conclusion.

“We’re pregnant!” Cat sings.

You and JJ look at each other in shock, the blonde’s voice slowly drowning out as you sink further into the Cat shaped hole. You vaguely hear her mention going to the guard to find her medical records, but all you can think about is how she could be bearing Spencer’s child.

Spencer and you had been together for a little over two years now. While still in the relative early stages, a lot about your relationship had been figured out and solidified. It was the most secure you’d ever felt with anyone, and despite the road bumps with Mexico you felt that you both came through it as well as any couple would in that situation.

You loved Spencer, and Spencer loved you. Right now was just another one of those road bumps, just like Mexico. That’s what you needed to tell yourself.

JJ bursts through the door with the medical documents, “I got them.” breaking you out of your spiral. You both anxiously look at the paper to find a little (+) sign ticked next to the pregnant box.

Cat Adams really was pregnant. You think you could be sick, you feel JJ’s hand grip your arm in an attempt to tether you back down, but it’s a futile effort. Your brain has already taken the information and ran a billion different directions with it, each coming up with a more crazy conclusion.

You stare blankly into the interrogation room as Spencer vehemently denies the child being his, denying any such way that it could even be his. The disbelief is ruling his words as he shuts down any theory that gives it truth, until Cat reminds him of the heavy dose he was given in Mexico. It hit him then, if he could barely remember the third person in that room, he had no bearing on whatever else transpired.

Spencer tries not to let the anxiety and shock show on his face as he sits down to face Cat in the eyes, “How did you do it?”

“I gave Lindsey very specific instructions to get you in the mood.”

“She pretend to be you?”

“Why, would that have worked?”

“No.” he says sternly.

She pauses, ego clearly bruised, “Yeah, I know. I know. Believe me, I know exactly where I stand on the Spencer Reid "Hot or Not" list. I told her to pretend to be Maeve. Maeve Donovan, who had her brains blown out right in front of you before you two could even kiss.”

Spencer’s face falls. No, he thinks, no no no. He looks back at the one way window behind him, knowing very well he can’t see you but you’re watching everything unfold disastrously.

Your heart drops so fast it could have very well been seismic. To your horror, Cat continues.

“I thought about telling her to pretend to be your little BAU girlfriend,” she chuckles, “But then I realized, you only had one love of your life. and you won’t let anyone else measure up.” She leans in closer, “By the way, I know that you still think about Maeve when you’re, you know, with your little crime fighter over there. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” She gives an over exaggerated wink to the window.

Spencer feels like he’s seeing white, anger coursing through his body as the reality of his situation comes to a head. He’s definitely not thinking when he pushes the table aside harshly, grabbing Cat by the collar and pushing her against the wall. He’s only able to stop when JJ is beside him suddenly attempting to pull him back, reminding him that she’s pregnant.

His fists are clenched and without a second thought he storms out of the room, his tunnel vision taking him right past you and JJ.

JJ doesn’t know what to do, she looks back into the room to see Cat smirking to herself, and god if she didn’t have morals she’d finish what Spencer started. She thinks it’s wise to go after Spencer and check on him, knowing that Cat’s timer is still ticking and the faster he gets back in there the sooner they can find his mother.

But then she looks at you and suddenly her feet are rooted next to yours.

She lays her hand on your shoulder and gently speaks, “Hey, I’m right here okay?”

You nod mindlessly, hoping you can keep the ocean of tears at bay with whatever resolve you can muster. She squeezes her hand at your acknowledgment and doesn’t move.

How is she supposed to even comfort you? How are you supposed to process this?

You knew how important Maeve Donovan was to Spencer. The whole thing had happened a year before you joined the team, only having heard the story through your teammates. It was tragic, there was no other way to put it, and your heart clenched for Spencer for having to go through that by himself. When you both first started dating, he disclosed the more intimate details to you, wanting nothing to be left unspoken about his past to affect his future with you.

What a cruel twist of fate.

“I—I think,” you stutter, “I have to go, JJ, I can’t be here right now.”

“But—“ She starts.

You cut her off, “No, JJ you have to go talk to Spencer and get him back in there. The longer his mom is with Lindsey…” you trail off.

She nods, understanding that you’re thinking about the priorities right now, “Okay, okay I’ll go find him. Where are you going to go?”

You could go home, the one you share with Spencer. Or you could go back to the office, the one you also share with Spencer.

Every realization adds another needle to your stack, and you’re about to crumble under the weight. “I—I don’t know.” You whimper.

JJ closes her eyes to think quickly and grips your shoulders, “Go back to the BAU okay? I’m going to call Emily and tell her to expect you back, you go straight there, do you understand me?” she emphasizes. JJ is smart enough to know that you cannot be alone right now, and that Spencer wouldn’t be able to scrounge up whatever focus he could into getting answers from Cat if he knew you had left by yourself to god knows where.

All you could do was nod, and hope and pray that your feet would carry you to the car and back to the bureau. JJ was nervous having you drive back, but she really didn’t have a choice. All she could do was notify Emily, as well as Penelope for tracking purposes, that you were headed back, and to not ask you too many questions.

After you left, JJ stood in the waiting room for a brief moment before going to find where Spencer went. She finds him sitting on the floor of an unused interrogation room with his head tucked into his knees.

She speaks quietly to not startle him, “Hey.”

He looks up at the voice, JJ noticing his eyes flit around and behind her as if looking for something, or someone. His eyes sulk back when he’s unable to find it.

Spencer opens his mouth to speak, “Is she—“

“She’s going back to the BAU, Emily knows she’s on the way,” she cuts him off already anticipating his question, “Listen, whatever you’re feeling about what just happened right now has to be paused. You need to focus and finish this stupid game with Cat so we can find your mother and be done with her.” She grits out.

He sighs shakily, he doesn’t even want to think about what must be going through your head. As much as it pained him to experience her vitriol first hand, you were on the other side of that window listening to every word Cat spewed out. And somehow, knowing you watched all of that hurt worse than Mexico, worse than Tobias Hankel, and even worse than Maeve Donovan.

Cat was playing a deeply fucked psychological game with him, and she had now called you in as a pawn. You, his darling girl. The one who made him see the light of the sun after it was constantly being put out, the one who loved him through his mother’s illness and wrongful imprisonment, the one who is, with all and every bit of certainty, the love of his life.

If the velvet black box in his sock drawer was any testament to the power that love held, he hoped it would take mercy on him in this moment.

He stands up and paces the room for a moment before kicking the chair to the other side of the room. JJ startles, her eyes widening but attempting to remain neutral faced as Spencer sorts out his emotions.

“Spence, we need to focus,” she reminds him, “Time is running out.”

“I know,” he mumbles and paces the room hoping to have a stroke of insight, “I have an idea.”

———

You must be no better than a zombie in the final apocalypse when you walk into the bullpen, stumbling around with glassy eyes, no regard for what’s in your way. The apathetic coping mechanism you’ve deployed almost makes you seem as mindless as those monsters, if it weren’t for Penelope to show up and steady you.

“I gotcha, honey,” She makes eye contact with Emily, acknowledging that she’s got you, before turning back to you again, “Come here, let’s sit down.” Penelope sits you down in the nearest chair and drags another one for her to sit right next to you.

You don’t speak for an hour after sitting. Penelope doesn’t ask, only checking in every ten minutes to see if you want a snack or some water, to which you shake your head no every time. She’s too busy typing away on her laptop getting information that could help the team find Spencer’s mother, the last thing you want to be is a bump in the road for them.

Another hour passes before the team exits the conference room, alerting you and Penelope that they think they’ve found the cabin where Diana and Lindsey are. Emily gathers everything they need before approaching you in the bullpen.

“Do I have to be here when you guys come back?” You ask quietly.

Emily sighs, understanding the gravity of your circumstance, “No, you don’t. Will you let Garcia drop you home though? Give us all a peace of mind.” She chuckles humorlessly, unknowingly squeezing the other shoulder JJ didn’t.

You know the ‘all’ she’s referring to really just means one person. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but you don’t think it’s meant to. She brings you in for a tight hug, “I’ll check on you after, okay?”

You nod and release from her embrace. Penelope gathers her things next to you and you both walk to the elevator.

“Honey,” It pained Garcia to see you like this, and she didn’t know how she could help, “What can I do?”

You sniffle and shrug, there isn’t much she can do. There isn’t even much that you could do. Not that anything you could do would be enough, it was never enough. Not for you, not for the team, and not for Spencer.

With a bitter chuckle you answer Penelope’s question,

“Bring back Maeve.”

[theemporium]

this is a wee blurb because I keep seeing that orange peel theory video with the shitty boyfriend and I just know my boys wouldn’t be the same! and it’s a wee post exam/hiatus treat so enjoy!🫶🏽

series masterlist

.

“Baby?”

Charles let out a hum, tearing his eyes away from his laptop to where you were sitting by the kitchen counter. From his angle on the couch, he couldn’t see the way you had set your phone up against a pile of aimless files and data you had been reading over. Nor had he realised the way you were trying to hold back your smiles.

“I really feel like an orange,” you continued once you had his attention.

His brows furrowed together as he perked up a bit. “Oh, do we not have any more? I thought we bought some the other day.”

“No, we do,” you said with a wistful sigh as you reached over to the fruit bowl to grab an orange. “But…”

Charles frowned a little as he moved to stand up. He still didn’t seem to notice your phone, his eyes and attention fully on you. He made his way towards the counter, leaning over the other side as he noted the way you looked down at the orange.

“What’s wrong, mi amor?” He murmured, his voice sweet and soft.

You turned to him, holding the orange in one hand. “Peel it for me?”

Charles looked down at the orange before his face broke out into a grin as he took the orange from you. He didn’t even hesitate as he began to peel it, his fingers working aimlessly before the fruit was peeled completely. With a proud look on his face, he handed you the orange.

“You didn’t even question why I asked you,” you mused as you took it from him, not hesitating to tear the orange in half before handing him a piece.

“You asked me so I did it,” he said with a shrug before popping a piece of orange in his mouth. “Why is that so shocking?”

You shrugged. “You’d be surprised.”

“If I ask you to peel an orange, would you peel it for me?” He asked, a cheeky smile on his face almost like he expected you to scoff and roll your eyes.

“I would,” you replied with a soft smile, and his expression brightened.

“Oh,” Charles grinned. “So we both passed?”

Your brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“The test,” he said like that explained everything. “The orange one. We both passed, right?”

“I—” Your lips parted as you stared at him in shock. “You knew?”

Charles giggled as he rounded the counter, his arms winding around your waist. “Of course I do, baby, I saw it on TikTok weeks ago.”

You blinked. “Oh.”

He snorted as he leaned down, pecking the corner of your mouth before placing a kiss on your lips too. “Max is rubbing off on you too much, you should actually watch the things I send you,” he muttered, amused.

“I do,” you replied weakly, but you both grinned in response.

“I’ll peel as many oranges as you need me to peel,” he murmured against your lips, enjoying the way your cheeks heated beneath his touch.

“That could be a lot of oranges,” you replied, though you’d come to enjoy the way Charles made your heart pound.

“They’d be worth it for you, amor,” he stated simply in response before leaning down to kiss you again, the bittersweet taste of oranges on both your tongues.

.

[moonlightspencie]

initially an idea from @hotchfiles from forever ago when i asked for james fic requests, and i finally wrote it teehee

original idea: “reader’s first time that she wants to get over and just do it with a friend she trusts and he ends up confessing mid sex”

james potter x fem!reader

warnings: smut! (p in v, first time, virgin!reader), MDNI

————————

To say you were shocked was an understatement.

You didn’t wake up this morning thinking you’d be messing around with your best friend. You definitely didn’t think he’d kiss you. Or do more.

But here you were, in his bed.

You couldn’t even blame the party or the drinks since each of you had only taken one shot each. James loved a party, but when it was at his home, he tended to lean on the conservative side until it was just his closest friends left over.

Now, you had no clue who was even still downstairs. He’d taken you upstairs an hour ago after a messy kiss. At first you thought that maybe it was for attention with his friends. But when barely anybody noticed, you dropped that theory quickly.

And it seemed like a perfect opportunity.

You still hadn’t lost your virginity, and it was something you’d been reflecting on more often lately after your 22nd birthday had come and gone. Realistically, it wasn’t a big deal. You just wanted to know what it felt like.

But you weren’t sure that your friends were entirely aware. You’d messed around with people before, but you’d never gone all the way. You didn’t want it to be some big event, and the second James started pulling your clothes off… what was the harm if he knew or not what your sexual history was?

It was going so well, too! Up until your initial feeling of being impressed by his size caught up to you.

The second he lined himself up and started pushing into you, you felt a bit nervous. The stretch wasn’t a great feeling, much to your disappointment. It wasn’t all bad, but it just felt like too much too fast. And he wasn’t slowing down. You held back any noises at first, but there came a point when you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“James, oh my g—” you moan, face feeling hot as he bottoms out. It kind of hurts.

“Feel good love?”

You’re silent for a moment, breathing heavily.

“I-I don’t know,” you shake your head as you respond.

James stops, looking at you. “What? What do you mean?”

“Kind of hurts.”

He smirks a little. “Never been with someone as big as me, love?”

You shake your head again. “Haven’t been with anyone.”

His smirk falls completely. He shakes his head, looking down at you in confusion, his chest heaving for a different reason, now.

“No—nobody?”

You swallow, realizing your mistake. You look up at him, feeling a bit panicked. He starts pulling out, and you wince at the feeling, then scramble to sit up when he sits back on his knees, his face in his hands.

“Jamie—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, looking at you. “Why… God, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Please,” you say, reaching for him, holding onto one of his arms. “I just… I haven’t done anything like this before and I wanted to do it with someone who I already know and love and then… then you kissed me and it just seemed like the right time.”

“Love, I can’t be your first time.”

“Why not?” you ask, voice clearly a little desperate. “You already—”

“I already did way too much,” he cuts you off, then looks at you again, his gaze softening. “You should’ve told me.”

“You wouldn’t have gone as far as you did.”

“That’s my point.”

You sigh, scooting closer to him. You hold onto his arm, your head leaning in his shoulder.

“Just wanted it to be with someone I care about. A friend and not some… Some guy who’d never talk to me again,” you explain quietly. “Would’ve asked Sirius or Remus but…”

James shakes his head. “Why didn’t you just ask me, then? I might’ve said okay.”

“Just wanted to do it. Get it over with. I didn’t think it was a big deal,” you shrug.

“It is a big deal, baby,” he sighs, glancing at you. “It’s a really big deal.”

“I don’t want it to be.”

“Why not?”

“Cause… it’s just sex. I just want to get the first time over with. Is that wrong?”

He swallows, hugging you to him. “It’s not wrong, I just—”

“What?”

“I thought you’d want a better experience.”

You furrow your brow. “But you’re my best friend. It is a good experience.”

“Love…”

“Please, James. Can we please just keep going?”

He glanced down at you, wetting his lips on instinct as he sees you looking up at him like that. After all, he was only a man. And you… you were his beautiful best friend. Naked and pretty and begging for him to keep fucking you. He wasn’t usually weak, but he couldn’t imagine anyone being able to say no to you like this.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips with his, his hand cradling your cheek. You sighed into the kiss, melting.

“You need to tell me if it hurts this time,” he mumbled against your lips.

“I will,” you whispered back.

He nodded, hands running up your sides softly. He laid you back on the bed, settling between your legs again easily.

“Tell me if it hurts.”

“I know, James. I will.”

He let out a heavy breath, groaning with his head dropping into your neck as he pushed into you again.

“Fuck, love…” he moaned, leaving sloppy kisses along your neck and shoulder.

You breathe heavy, whimpering softly. “It feels… a lot better this time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

You clutch onto him tightly, gasping as he finally starts moving. It feels strange and unfamiliar… but so good. You moan out his name as his hips snap against yours with every thrust.

“So— so good, Jamie,” you breathe out shakily.

���You’re even better,” he mumbles, his voice laced with desperation. “You’re perfect.”

“No I’m not.”

“You are.”

You whine, your head back against the pillows. He picks up the pace, his heart pounding not only from the effort, but from the feelings overwhelming him.

“God, I love you,” he groaned.

“Love you, too, Jamie.”

He shook his head, kissing your skin delicately.

“No, I love you.”

“What?”

He picked up his head to look down at you as he kept thrusting into you. “You’re perfect, love. Geez, you’re not usually this thick. I’m— I love you.”

“What?” you repeat with wide eyes.

“Just… you know what I mean,” he says desperately, looking down at you as if he could cry.

You swallow. Suddenly his behavior makes even more sense. He didn’t want to take your virginity. He didn’t want to hurt you. He wanted everything to be perfect for you. He loved you.

“I love you too.”

His eyes go wide as he moans. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your skin, dropping his head against you again in relief. “We’re doing this more often.”

“I won’t complain,” you chuckled breathlessly.

“Good. Cause this isn’t ending any time soon.”

[blackypanther9]

Gossip between Father and Daughter – Father!Alastor x Daughter!Reader

A/N: I decided to do this Oneshot/Headcanon for both, alive!Alastor x daughter!Reader and Demon!Alastor x Daughter!Reader. Enjoy ! (Picture belongs to rightful owner !)

TAGLIST!: @meg-giry1  @wen01203

WARNING!: mentions of the S word, name calling, insults, mentions of cheating, Vox and the other Vees get bullied in public AND MORE ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!!

Human!Dad!Alastor x Human!Daughter!Reader:

When you start to talk about new Gossip:

Alastor was cooking Dinner as suddenly you bashed open the door, scaring the living daylights out of your Father. He quickly looked at you and made a face to scold you.

“Mon ange (My Angel), are you planning to give your dear ol’ Father a heart attack ?”

You ignored his scolding and gave him a big grin with a twinkle in your eyes. Alastor got intrigued.

“You will NEVER believe what I’ve heard, Papa ! That is some interesting tea indeed !”, you announced happily.

Your Father cocked his head to the side in curiosity, his smile not leaving, but it shrunk in curiosity and confusion.

“Oh ? What happened, Cher ?”

You entered the kitchen fully, pulled out a chair, sat down and looked at him.

“You do know Felicia Monrue, right ? You reported about her last week in your Broadcast, because she got caught drunk, even though there was no giggle water (Alcohol) allowed and she had to pay a hefty debt as punishment.”

“Ah...yes, I do remember her indeed. Hoho ! Such a gal getting caught.”, Alastor laughed out in humor, “Couldn’t even hold her own liquor, hahaha !”

You nodded eagerly.

“Well guess what !”

“What is it, mon petit (Little one) ?”

You looked around the house, as if anyone was listening in, then bounced and gave him a big mischievous smirk.

“Rumors have it, that she was spotted a few times with different men on her arm. She brought them home and someone heard lewd noises, while one of her neighbors swore they saw her and the different men in her bedroom, doing the forbidden act ! Can you believe it ?!”

Alastor took a sip of water, which he promptly spat out in shock, as you said that. He stared at you, then looked at his glass of water, then at the food he was cooking, then back to you and back at his drink.

“Am I sure that I am drinking water right now ?”, he muttered in shock.

“You are, Papa ! Stop being so silly !”, you replied laughing.

He looked at you again.

“You aren’t talking nonsense, right, Dear ? That poor Lady surely could never do such a scandalous thing.”

You shook your head.

“I really heard it, from more than one person too ! It already goes around like wildfire, Papa ! One even said that they have a picture of it ! If this gets out into the newspaper, her clothes store will shut down forever !”

Your Father shook his head and looked at his food, sighing in disappointment.

“Such a fine Dame and no class... Didn’t her parents teach her any manners ? How scandalous !”

You shrugged your shoulders and gave him a grin.

“Maybe it is just a faux, Papa, but it would be entertaining if it was true ! Don’t you agree ?”

“It sure would be, Cher. Anything else you heard rumors about, hmm ?”, your Father asked you amused.

“Oh ! There are new rumors about the Bayou Killer too.”

“Oh, do let me know ! I’d LOVE to hear their theories !”, your Father said enthusiastically.

“Some speculate now that it is a butcher and others that it is a doctor ! How ridiculous is that ?!”, you said laughing.

For a second the kitchen was silent and then Alastor broke out into laughter and he shook his head.

“A-a WHAT now ?! Hahahaha !”

Alastor laughed so hard that he wiped a tear away from his right eye. You looked at your Father in amusement.

“Stupid, isn’t it ? They really think you are a Doctor or even a Butcher ! I mean...you kind of are a Butcher, but at the same time, you are not !”

Alastor snorted in amusement and continued to cook Dinner, while you told him all the Gossip you heard and he discussed it all with you, happy to listen to anything you heard.

When Alastor starts to talk about new Gossip:

You were just returning from a quick shopping spree with some groceries as you saw your Father with a huge mischievous grin on his face. He took a few bags from you and you both started to fill the kitchen cabinets and fridge with your catches that you got from the stores.

You knew that glint in your Father’s eyes. He heard something scandalous and amusing. You couldn’t wait.

As soon as you both finished, you entered the Living room and sat down on the couch, your Father sat down in the armchair.

“Alright, Dad, spill the tea. What rumors have you heard, hmm ?”, you pressed.

Alastor looked at you with one of his hugest smiles and started to chuckle.

“Do you remember Gwen Kosiak from my workplace, who quit his job not long ago ?”, your Father asked you.

“Yes. Why ?”

“Well my dear child, he was married and they seemed happy. Suddenly they divorced out of nowhere. Rumors have it that he cheated on his wife with the housemaid !”

You covered your mouth in shock.

“No way !”, you gasped out.

“Yes indeedy !”

You started to let out a chuckle.

“I would have never expected that from Gwen.”

“Me neither, Cher ! Me neither !”

You both chuckled and as it calmed down, your Father smirked.

“There has also been the rumor going around that the dress shop, you love to visit so frequently, is going bankrupt, because the owner of the store refuses to pay the rent !”

You stared at your Father gob smacked.

“Seriously ?”

All your Father did was nod.

“Indeedy !”

You leaned back in shock, then your face saddened.

“A real shame, guess I should look for a new favorite dress store then.”, you muttered.

“You definitely should, Cher !”, Alastor encouraged.

You could see that he wasn’t finished yet, so you waited for him to start the next section of discussion to gossip about.

“Also, Mrs. Tiana gave birth to her and her husband’s offspring ! The spawn looks nothing like them ! Hahaha !”

“You don’t think that she was going behind her husband’s back, do you ?”

“I think she was, Cher !”

“My, how scandalous ! Was it truly that bad ?”

“The child didn’t have their skin color, nor their hair color ! The child’s skin color was almost like mine and the hair was ginger ! Both of them were white and one had blond hair while the other had black hair. They both said that none in their Family tree had a different skin color, nor ginger hair ! So it just can’t be his offspring.”

You covered your mouth in shock.

“I never would have thought of Mrs. Tiana as a harlot.”, you muttered.

“None of us did, mon Cher ! Yet, here we are !”

The two of you continued to gossip and talk about rumors for a while. Alastor was always happy to listen, theorize with you and to talk about everything. He was almost like a woman, chattering about all the scoundrels that were talked about and you LOVED your Dad for that. He was practically both to you. A Mother and a Father. You never lacked anything.

In Hell:

When you start gossip:

Your Father was just about to wrap up his Broadcast in Hell, as you stormed inside. He looked at you startled, his Deer ears standing on high alert. As soon as he saw you, he rolled his eyes gently, scolding himself in his thoughts, that he got scared of you.

“Father, guess what !”, you announced happily.

Oh, he knew by that voice that you heard some gossip. He turned to you, leaving his broadcast on for now.

“What is it, Cher ?”, he asked.

“I heard some interesting tea about the Vees ! Wanna hear it ?!”

He perked up and looked at you highly interested. He snapped another chair into existence next to him and gestured for you to sit down. You did so eagerly.

“Now, what was that, Cher ?”, he asked, interested.

You were bouncing up and down on your chair.

“So, apparently Valentino and Vox are in a on and off relationship, just to screw each other, when Valentino’s harlots are too busy ! How desperate is that, Papa ?! Hahaha !”

Alastor, who sipped his black coffee, spat it back out and coughed into his sleeve from shock. Then he chuckled.

“That sounds pathetically desperate ! Hahaha ! I never thought that Vox would sink even lower than he already did !”, your Father laughed out.

“I didn’t know that Valentino was so depraved and pathetically desperate that he even fucks his own harlots ! Hahaha ! That just shows how unwanted he is !”, you laughed out.

“True, true, my Dear !”

“Oh, oh ! And have you heard that the Demon, Velvet dated, broke up with her ?!”

“Applesauce, mon petit !”, he yelled in fake shock.

“It’s true, Papa ! They apparently were dining in a restaurant and suddenly the man said that he is dumping her ass, then left the restaurant without paying too ! She left it, looking like a mess ! I bet the other two Vees had to coddle her to make it better ! HA ! How fucking pathetic for an Overlord !”

Alastor laughed loudly at that and petted your head, affectionately.

“Also, Vox tried to copy your Radio Station to make Radio Broadcasts himself, to grow bigger ! Can you believe how desperate that flat faced idiot is ?! Hahaha !”

“Is that so, Cher ?”, Alastor said partly amused, partly triggered.

“He tried to hide it from you too ! Sadly someone from his team snitched ! Hahahaha !”, you confirmed with laughter.

“Hmmm. Interesting indeed, Cher !”

“Also, some guests in Valentino’s porn clubs said that the hygiene in the bathrooms, of all the clubs, are so nasty that no one even wants to take a dump there ! Hahaha ! That insect is destroying his own image !”, you cackled out.

Alastor laughed at that.

“Well, what did you expect from a moth, Cher ? That they are clean ?”

“You would think his business and his employees means something to him, but it seems it wants to go broke soon enough !”

Alastor just chuckled and already planned how to teach Vox a lesson, for trying to take over Radio, HIS specialty.

The Broadcast went 30 minutes longer, discussing and gossiping about the Vees mostly.

After they finished their Broadcast, they saw that all of Pentagram City had a blackout. Welp, they fried Vox then with the other two Vees.

When Alastor starts gossip:

You both visited Rosie, just to catch up a bit and that was where everything went down. From a small pleasant exchange of how you all three have been, it turned into gossiping.

“My Dear, you have to be pulling our legs.”, Alastor accused Rosie in disbelief.

“I am not, Al ! I promise ya ! He really tried to eat her !”, Rosie insisted.

You just laughed and ate another finger that Rosie offered. You rarely did eat her treats that she offered, but today you were fine with it. Rosie knew about your picky diet swings, so she never felt insulted.

“What about you, Dear ? Any interesting gossip ?”, Rosie asked you.

“Oh quite some interesting ones, indeed !”, you replied.

“Oh do spill the tea, Dearie !”, Rosie said in excitement.

“Well, I heard that Zestial had three Sons and they are all down here. They say that Zestial hid them from everyone, because they are not very strong and he is ashamed of them.”

“Oh my...”, Rosie said in shock and intrigue.

Alastor was in slight shock and very interested in it.

“I will ask Zest about it tomorrow. After all we are supposed to meet up at Carmilla’s tomorrow. He is always there.”, you told her.

“Oh please do ask him ! I would love to know if these rumors are true !”

Then she turned to Alastor.

“And you, my friend ? What did you catch ?”

Alastor chuckled.

“A lot of people are starting to question Queen Lilith’s absence. Many say that she made a Deal with the Holy Gates. Others say that she got exterminated.”

“Hah ! As if anyone could kill our Queen ! She would NEVER agree to make a Deal with the Angels either ! How silly !”

Alastor chuckled and nodded, agreeing with Rosie, while you just shook your head in amusement.

“Also, it was rumored that Overlord Missi Zilla was seen with a lowlife Sinner, getting a bit steamy in an alley way.”

“No way !”, Rosie and you yelled.

“Yes, yes, indeedy !”, Alastor insisted.

Rosie leaned back.

“Oh my stars...”, she muttered.

“Who do you think it was ?”, you asked the two other Overlords.

“All I have heard was that the Demon Sinner was a bull. There was nothing else.”, Alastor chimed in.

“As if Missi would stoop that low.”, you scoffed.

“You never know, my Dear !”

And the gossip with Rosie and Alastor would continue for a long while, while you chimed in and shared your own gossip. You saw Rosie like a Mother figure and your Father didn’t mind it a bit. He was glad you liked Rosie.

You three Overlords would gossip for hours.

Alastor is a HUGE fan of gossip. You never know what interesting information you will hear, after all.

He would gossip with you, his beloved Daughter, like women would gossip amongst each other.

He would try and see if you were pulling his leg or not, but most of the times you were serious.

As soon as he got interesting gossip, he would immediately sit down with you and share, loving to bond with you over simple gossip.

He would always share a few laughs with you here and there.

He loves it when you have gossip/information about his enemies/victims. Somehow you just KNEW where and how to get the interesting tea ! He couldn’t be prouder !

He would never shut you down if you wanted to gossip with him. He would always listen and throw in his input/opinion on the matters discussed.

He is the perfect person to gossip with and so are you and Rosie.

I hope I hit the mark with this ! ^^'

(Words: 2 605)

Masterlist HERE !

[still-searching-for-something]

I want to go back to how things were.

I want to go back to when I believed that the progressives were on the right side of history, fighting against oppression in all its forms, and had critical thinking, honest compassion, and understanding in a way that the right--inundated with racist conspiracy theories and absurd lies--did not.

In many ways, I'm a perfect demographic fit in the pro-Palestine circles. I'm bisexual. I'm a young university student who's been progressive for as long as he knew what progressivism was, and I never experienced genuine economic insecurity or wondered if I'd eat that night. In another timeline, maybe I'd be there marching and shouting their horrible slogans. But there's one, teeny little thing that ruins it, which makes me fall through the cracks and renders me politically homeless, outcast by the progressive left and the MAGA right.

I'm a Jew.

And I'm trying so, so hard to hold compassion for the suffering of minorities who have not extended us that same compassion. I'm trying to maintain my progressivist urge to go out and help minorities in solidarity, but it's so hard when they make it clear that they hate us and want our state dead and gone. I supported BLM, but Al Sharpton, Leonard Jeffries, Alice Walker, James Baldwin, Louis Farrakhan, Malcom X, Jesse Jackson and many others either were or are wildly antisemitic, especially Sharpton and Walker, and so are the BLM movement's leaders, who openly sneered at Jews for being shocked by them by announcing, "I guess their activism was just transactional. How (((Zionist))) of them!"

And the queer community forced me out of their ranks for merely questioning whether the war in Gaza is a genocide, for pushing back against them saying that Hamas is fighting oppression. And spread antisemitic lies about me, claims of harassment and supporting genocide to my friends because I dared to question them. And they've chosen to side with those who would throw both of us off roofs for being queer. Cast out by the outcasts.

Like, what do I do? Our only allies are Hindus, Iranians, Kurds, Republicans, and Christian Zionists (respect to all of these groups for that... even you Republicans. This is one of our only points of agreement). That's literally it. No loud show of from indigenous nations supporting what is effectively the most successful anticolonial land back movement in human history. No push from "antiracist progressives" against rising antisemitism and genocidal terrorism from a reactionary fundamentalist group against a historically discriminated group.

And they aren't even just leaning back and being silent--many members of these groups are being actively antisemitic--especially the progressive left, which has morphed into the most antisemitic mainstream political movement since the Nazis. Instead, we're 'Zionazis' and genocidal colonizers who aren't even oppressed anyway, that's just evil Jewish Zionist lies designed to stoke sympathy for their unrelentingly evil nature, which we can't even help. The notion that Jews are intrinsically predisposed to evil acts and deception--never heard that one before.

So now, when I look at pictures of Pride Parades, a celebration of an identity of which I am a part and would have previously killed to attend--I wonder... would I be allowed to hold up a rainbow flag with a Magen David on it? If I asked any of their views on the state of Israel, what will they say? What about on Zionists who support its existence? Would all parts of my identity be respected, valued, and celebrated? Or would I be forced to leave the Star of David flag at home, pretend I don't notice their antisemitic views, and pass the litmus test of disavowing Israel before being accepted?

I feel suspicious and wary of the very community which I am 'supposed' to belong in. I feel uncomfortable. I hate, hate, hate that I feel this way. That I've become more closed, more cynical, more angry. Those of us who fall through the cracks, who hold multiple marginalized identities--queer and Jewish, black and Jewish, Indigenous and Jewish--we are ignored and silenced, our voices and experiences entirely spat upon as being a front for 'Zionist crimes' or whatever new buzzwords they create.

I've decided that first and foremost, I am Jewish. The me that was proud to be a part of the queer community is dead. I want to support the progressive causes of antiracism and social justice, but they hate us. They want us dead. They wouldn't view my participation as being a genuine gesture of solidarity, but an evil Jew Zionist seeking to con them and co-opt support in order to aid our evil apartheid genocidal settler-colonialist white supremacist illegitimate entity in a land that should really be given to Hamas anyway.

How am I supposed to hold space for other minorities when nobody is holding space for us right now?

[smallmightsupremacy]

Izuku isn't losing his arms and here's why:

Okay so I know that we're all freaking out over that one manga panel, but we really shouldn't be.

Deku isn't going to lose his arms. It's all in his head.

Just stay with me.

First and foremost, look at the reactions from the characters when they join the battlefield. Specifically Aizawa:

What about this screams 'one of my students just lost both of his arms and may not end up having a future as a hero anymore?'

You would think that if Hori were to really go through with Izuku losing his arms, he would put more emphasis on the characters' reactions to make it more impactful, right?

To further reinforce this idea, we also need to consider the significance of Izuku's hands in Katsuki's arc. Whether you view their relationship as romantic or not, you can't deny that Izuku's hands holds significance to Katsuki. It represents the time when their relationship first fell apart, and I think in order to call their relationship fully 'healed' and complete Katsuki's growth, he's going to need to accept Izuku's hand again.

I mean, look at how foreshadowed the handhold is. There's no way they're not going to be holding hands by the end of the series. It's a necessity at this point.

And yes, you can argue that they already did hold hands, but to me that handhold didn't seem like the official one. It wasn't as impactful as it could've been. Now, while I'm not saying that the handhold didn't have any emotion to it, I feel like it's impact got a little diluted by Katsuki's revival. It wasn't the main focus. I think that the proper handhold is going to come later and be in it's own moment.

And, I mean, Izuku kind of needs his hands for that to happen.

So now you may be wondering, if Izuku hasn't lost his arms, then how do you explain what's happening to him right now?

Well, like I said earlier, it's all in his head. I think it's AFO fucking around with his mind.

I think AFO is somehow manipulating the vestige world and OFA mental connection he was with Izuku to make him hallucinate that he's lost his arms. He wants Izuku to crumble, and what better way to do that than to convince him that his dream is over and that there's nothing he can do?

I feel like this has also been foreshadowed in a way too. Take a look at this picture:

This image already foreshadowed Ochako getting stabbed in the chest, so perhaps it's also foreshadowing Izuku's fate?

The knife is in his head, so perhaps it's hinting at him being affected psychologically?

Also, the idea that it's only those that are connected to the vestige realm that can see the illusions that AFO is planting would be a great way to get Katsuki to be a part of the final fight too.

We already know that's he's going to be involved somehow. Hori himself said that the ending for mha was going to be better than the ending for Hero's Rising (the one Kats and Izu share OFA), and what better way to improve that than have Katsuki come save him from the mind fuckery?

I also think that finally having Izuku and Katsuki fight side by side has been foreshadowed for a long time, and if that really were to happen, then there's no better time for that than the final fight.

Also, Katsuki's really the only one that can save Izuku right now if my theory were to be true. He's the only character that fits the very specific requirements that Izuku needs (being connected to the vestige realm, and also having a willingness to save/help Izuku).

Speaking of, Katsuki being connected to the vestige realm was a shock for us all, and it doesn't make sense for why Horikoshi would show us such ground-breaking information if he didn't plan on using it later. This has to be the later. There's no other case where I can see Katsuki's connection to the vestige realm being implemented into the story again other than this.

So here's the TL;DR:

Izuku is being mindfucked by AFO and Katsuki is going to be the one that brings him back to reality

[juniperskye]

Who Are You Again?

Based on the following ask: I had another plot thought! Aaron x BAU Reader (female or gender neutral) where Reader disobeys an order to save a victim and gets hurt really bad. Reader wakes up in the hospital to Aaron who is angry at first but then is shocked when it turns out that Reader has retrograde amnesia from the injury. Reader has forgotten their entire career in the BAU and even that They and Aaron were secretly dating! Last thing Reader actually remembers was attending a lecture in college where Aaron was a guest speaker and Reader developed a crush on him! Now Aaron has to carefully navigate helping Reader recover without outing their relationship to anyone else. Or maybe he wonders if it's better they forget? But for a HEA ending definitely Aaron doing something romantic sparks a memory and helps everything come flooding back. @nyxwolph thank you for requesting again and trusting me with your ideas! – I did have to change things up a bit (I struggled big time with this one)

Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Fem Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 5336

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap, some language, BAU canon typical violence, mention of parent death, mention of kidnapping, mention of Haley and Jack, secret relationship, let me know if I missed any!!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“In chaos theory, the butterfly effect is the sensitive dependence on initial conditions in which a small change in one state of a deterministic nonlinear system can result in large differences in a later state.” Essentially, something as small as a butterfly flapping its wings could cause something as catastrophic as a tornado.  

Aaron wondered what small event happened that led to this moment right now. A moment that would change the trajectory of your lives forever.

*36 hours earlier*

“Garcia has the unsubs location; he’s headed down a backroad just east of the 95.” Aaron said.

“He’s devolving, he’s probably going to try and dispose of his latest victim.” Morgan chimed in.

“Not if we have anything to do with it.” JJ replied.

“His location is being shared with you all, everyone be safe, at this point he’s going to be willing to do anything to avoid prison.” Hotch added.

“I’m close by, I am going to go try and cut him off.” You suggested.

The team expressed their worry and care and urged you to be careful. The only thing you had on your mind, however, was saving the five-year-old boy this unsub had hidden. You drove as fast as your vehicle would allow, you had to get to the unsub. You had to save that boy.

As you got closer to the location Garcia had shared, you could see the dust trail the unsubs car was leaving down the road. You thought about your options, and you made a snap decision. Drive on, no matter the consequences – take out the unsub’s car. So that’s what you did.

You drove forward and your car t-boned the unsubs, only you hadn’t considered that he’d be driving a semi tractor. Upon impact, your SUV was crushed, in your rush to get to the unsub you’d forgotten to put on your seatbelt and your body was ejected through the windshield.

The accident was enough to stop the unsub long enough for the team to arrive. As they surveyed the scene, Aaron’s stomach dropped. He immediately began barking orders, demanding medics, and sending agents to the unsubs’ farm to find the boy.  Throughout everything he refused to leave your side.

*Present Day*

“Sir, we had to place her in a medically induced coma to allow the swelling in her brain to go down.” The doctor explained.

“Is there an estimate as to how long it’ll be until she wakes up?” Aaron asked.

“With these kinds of injuries, it’s hard to say. The brain is a tricky thing, and no two injuries are alike. We just have to wait and see.”

“Thank you.” Aaron said, shaking the doctor’s hand.

Your doctor made her exit and Aaron moved to the seat beside your bed. He gently took your hand in his own placing a kiss to the back of it before returning it to your side. Aaron had thought back to the night everything changed.

*One year earlier*

“Hey Hotch, here’s that report you asked for. You aren’t staying are you?” You asked, glancing at your watch.

“Thanks, and yeah I had a few things I needed to finish up.”

You made your way over to Aaron’s couch, dropped your bag to the floor, and shrugged your jacket off. You pulled your phone out to see what was still open for delivery in the area. Aaron and you had shared many nights like this, spending late nights together in his office. The two of you had grown very close over the years, so much so that David had outright asked Aaron if you two were dating. To which Aaron let out an awkward chuckle and denied the accusation. If only he knew.

“What are you doing? You should head home.” Aaron said.

“Well, you should too, and you aren’t, so I guess that means we’re ordering dinner.” You smiled at him.

“I love you.” Aaron said simply.

“What?” You were stunned.

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I didn’t – I um….”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Aaron made his way over to you, gently caressed your face and kissed you. It was everything you had ever imagined. There had been this tension between the two of you over the last two years and it was all finally coming together.

After that night, Aaron and you had agreed to keep your relationship under wraps, to avoid any potential disruption to the team, but also any question as to your position on the team. Aaron didn’t want anyone to question the fact that it was your skills and resume alone that got you to where you are.

Yours and Aaron’s relationship blossomed after that night, but not without hardships. Aaron and you faced a lot of adversity in multiple aspects of your relationship; you had a hard time trusting people, Aaron had been self-conscious of your age gap, and you both couldn’t help but feel that you weren’t good enough for the other (not that either of you would bring it up).

*Present Day*

A tear fell from Aaron’s eye, he couldn’t fathom losing you. This was all part of the reason he didn’t want to get serious with someone after Haley, but then you came into his life. You’d come in and made yourself known with your kind eyes and witty charm; how could he not fall in love with you.

Aaron fell for you slowly then all at once, it came naturally, and he couldn’t help it. He knew that the team had their suspicions and honestly over the last year there had been some close calls, but you had ultimately maintained the secrecy of your relationship.

In this moment, Aaron couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt and regret over the fact that he’d asked you to keep things quiet. Had he let the team in on your relationship, he could’ve done a better job at keeping you safe.

*2 Weeks Later*

Aaron had been by your side as much as possible over the last two weeks, which is exactly where he was when you started to stir. Aaron shot straight up in his seat, his hand quickly reaching for your own.

You couldn’t help the groan that escaped your throat, your body hurt so bad, and you felt very confused. You attempted to open your eyes but immediately regretted it – the bright fluorescents adding to the pounding in your head. As you blinked through the brightness of the room, you glanced over to your bedside, noticing a tall man seated there.

“What on earth were you thinking? Driving into the unsub like that, you could’ve been killed. Your actions were reckless and unacceptable.” The man scolded you.

You couldn’t find it in you to reply, your head was pounding. You brought your hand up to your forehead and gently press the heel of your palm into it, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure.

“Sweetheart hold on, I’ll go get your doctor.” A deep voice sounded from your bedside.

Before you could question the pet name, you heard the sound of his dress shoes clicking against the linoleum floors.

The man returned with your doctor; he dimmed the lights slightly on his way back to your bedside. He moved to grab your hand again, to which you shifted, wringing your hands nervously in your lap.

“Hello, I’m doctor Raynor. How are you feeling?”

“Like I was hit by a truck, what happened?” You questioned, giving your doctor and the man a once over.

You recognized the man; it was Special Agent Hotchner of the BAU. What was he doing here? What happened?

“Well, you were involved in an accident, can you tell me what you remember?” Dr. Raynor inquired.

“I um, well, I was leaving a lecture.” Your gaze shifted to Agent Hotchner “Your lecture actually, you were talking about MO’s. I guess the accident was after that?” You couldn’t help but notice Agent Hotchner’s expression faulter.

Your doctor looked over at Agent Hotchner and he shook his head. The two of them seemingly knew something you didn’t. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d just given the wrong answer in front of the class. Dr. Raynor had gone through the rest of your injuries with you, multiple lacerations that had required stitches, a few broken ribs, a broken wrist, and of course your TBI. Once she was done she gave you a somber look.

“Would you excuse us for just a moment? I am going to send in one of your nurses to check you over and I’ll be back in just a moment.” Dr. Raynor said.

“Oh, okay.”

Dr. Raynor and Agent Hotchner left your room, and you tried your best to listen to their conversation.

*Hotch’s POV*

She doesn’t remember me, well us. It’s like the last five years have just disappeared.

“Agent Hotchner, I gather that the lecture she’s referring to did not occur two weeks ago when she was brought in.”

“No, that lecture was nearly five years ago.” I explained.

“This would be a case of retrograde amnesia, if she’s lost recent memories.” Dr. Raynor replied.

“Will her memory return?”

“It’s hard to say.”

While Aaron was completely devastated, he couldn’t help the doubt that creeped into his mind, telling him “This is for the best”.

*Normal POV*

Dr. Raynor and Agent Hotchner looked extremely serious, and you started to feel nauseous. Something was obviously wrong. You watched as their conversation ceased and they made their way back into the room.

Something must have happened, why would Agent Hotchner be here.

“Alright, it would appear that due to the brain trauma you sustained in your accident, you are experiencing what we describe as retrograde amnesia. This is when you can’t recall memories from your past. Based on your most recent memory, it appears as if you’ve lost approximately five years.” Dr. Raynor explained.

“Five years? Five years of memories are just gone. I don’t understand. If that’s true then why are you here?” You asked gesturing to Agent Hotchner.

“Well, you work for the BAU. You have for about three years now.”

“I do? I – I, this is a lot. What does this mean? Have you called my emergency contact?” You asked.

“I uh – I am your emergency contact.” Agent Hotchner spoke up.

“What, why? It has always been my mom, I don’t understand.”

“I’m so sorry, your mom, she uh – she passed last year. That’s when you switched it over to me.” Agent Hotchner’s gaze shifted down to his shoes.

“She’s gone?” Your voice cracked.

“Okay, this has been quite a bit of information. The most important thing right now is getting healthy. We want to keep you here a little longer to continue monitoring the swelling in your brain. Once we’ve confirmed it has gone down, you’ll want to get back in your usual routine, that is the best shot at getting your memory back.” Dr. Raynor gently patted your leg.

“How am I meant to get back to my normal routine when I don’t know it? The one person I had, I just found out is dead.”

“Given that Agent Hotchner is your emergency contact, we would be able to release you into his care. For now, we just need to stay positive.” With that, Dr. Raynor made her exit.

“I know this is a lot, but the BAU, we’re like a family, that includes you. Each member of the team is going to be willing to do anything to help you throughout this process.” Agent Hotchner said.

Part of you knew you could trust him; he had kind eyes, and you knew he was genuine. However, the other part of you felt so hopeless, like a lost kid in a department store. How were you meant to go home with this man who you didn’t know.

*Five Days Later*

“Do you have everything?” Aaron asked.

He had been with you every day for the last five days. He had brought you some things from your apartment and asked you to call him Aaron for now while you were “getting to know him”. You had to admit, it had been pretty nice talking with him the last few days.

“I think so!” You looked over at him. “I know that I am meant to be staying with you, at least until I’m fully healed, but could we go to my apartment first? I’d like to see it and maybe go through some of my things?”

“Of course we can.” Aaron nodded, gesturing towards the door.

The drive to your place was filled with small talk, mostly you asking Aaron questions about the BAU and the time you’ve spent there. It felt weird asking the man who is technically your boss about your personal life.

When you arrived, Aaron made sure to open your door for you and carry your bag into your home. He led you inside and you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable he seemed in your place, like he’d been there before. Like he belonged there. You shook the thought from your mind.

“I got you a new phone, it’s all set up for you.” Aaron said handing you the device.

“Thanks! Were they able to back up the old one? I was hoping to go through old texts and pictures to gather some insight into my life. God that sounds weird.” You huffed out a breath.

“I have our technical analyst Penelope Garcia working on that for you.” Aaron informed you.

“That’s great, thank you.”

The truth was, Aaron didn’t have Garcia backing up your old phone, at least not yet. He knew that if he had brought it to her she would uncover all the private texts and photos that you two had shared over the last year. He didn’t want to risk everyone finding out about your relationship, especially now when he wasn’t sure what your future would hold.

Aaron watched you as you made your way around your apartment. You wandered slowly around letting your fingers graze the spines of books on your shelves, picture frames on the walls and tchotchkes that were strewn about your desk and shelves. 

He so badly wanted to pull you into his arms, kiss your head and tell you that everything was going to be okay. He wanted you to know that he wasn’t just your boss. But he also thought about all the things that could go wrong if he told you. You could question your own ethics and fall into self-loathing with the thought that you’d potentially slept your way to the top – this was the furthest thing from the truth, but he knew you and the way your mind spiraled. He wondered if it would just be easier if he let you find yourself all on your own, to let this thing between you go and hope that maybe you’d find your way back to him again.

When he looked over to you once again, he saw that you had found a photo album. It was one he was very familiar with; Garcia had gotten it for you on your 1-year BAU anniversary and filled it halfway. Since then, you’d continue to add to it all the photos you’d taken with the team.

You hadn’t realized you were crying until a tear had fallen onto the picture you were currently examining. Your emotions were running high, looking through the album was so strange it felt like looking at a stranger and yet it was you in photo after photo looking happier than ever with these people you couldn’t remember.

You felt the couch dip beside you and Aaron gently rubbed his hand up and down your back.

“I can’t imagine how overwhelming this all must be. I know that I can’t understand but I am here for you and I’m happy to lend an ear if you want to talk about it.” Aaron quietly soothed you.

“Thank you so much Aaron. I just don’t know how to wrap my head around this being me but not remembering it. Clearly you all mean so much to me and yet I have no recollection of any of this.” You sobbed.

Aaron and you sat like that on your couch for a while. He gave you the time you needed to calm down, while holding you, whispering sweet nothings to you. You felt oddly comfortable there in his arms, your mind shifted to the thought that enjoying the way his arms felt around you was also incredibly inappropriate given that he was your boss. At that thought you shifted slightly. You thought back to why you had signed up to audit Aaron’s lecture and while the main reason was the knowledge he’d lend you, a part of you allowed his looks to give you that final push in signing up.

“I should probably grab a few things so we can head out.” You whispered.

“Do you need any help?” Aaron asked.

“I should be okay, but I’ll let you know!”

Aaron drove the two of you back to his apartment, for the time being he had asked Jessica to keep Jack, this way you could adjust, and Jack also wouldn’t out your relationship. Aaron had his guest bedroom set up for you, he’d set it up with some of your favorite things. A lavender scented candle, extra pillows, a fluffy blanket, and he made sure to set a small trinket dish on the dresser, so you’d have a place to put your jewelry.

These of course were all things Aaron had previously had at his place for you. When you two had gotten increasingly more serious, he encouraged you to leave some stuff at his place and he’d gone as far as to supply some of your favorites around his home for you.

Aaron led you into his home and you couldn’t help but glance around, really taking in your surroundings. You couldn’t help but take note of a few things as he showed you around; there was a photo missing from the side table next to the couch (you could see the tiny bit of dust that must’ve collected around it), the pantry was stocked with quite a few of your favorite snacks, there was a pink coffee mug in the cabinet, and lastly, tucked under the shoe rack near the front door were a pair of fluffy gray slippers.

You couldn’t explain why, but there was a slight pang of jealousy in you as you thought of Aaron having a girlfriend. You knew you had no right to feel that way and it would be incredibly inappropriate, but it was a gut reaction.

*One Week Later*

Aaron and you had fallen into a weird sort of routine, it started to feel a lot like the 50’s, you making dinner and cleaning while he worked. You were starting to get a bit stir crazy, which is exactly why you were so excited today. Garcia would be coming by to see you; she was bringing over a bunch of photos and videos of you with the team throughout the last three years.

It was a paperwork catch-up day for the BAU, so Aaron had given Penelope the go ahead to take a long lunch and spend some time with you. So, when a knock on the door rang through the apartment, you couldn’t help the burst of excitement that coursed its way through your veins.

“Hi Penelope!”

“Hey babe! How are you feeling?” She asked, giving you a look of concern.

“I’m feeling pretty good, you know, except for the missing five years of memories thing.”  You let out a low chuckle.

“Oh goodness! Well, I’ve brought a ton of stuff that might help bring some stuff back. I read that sense of smell is the sense that links with memories the strongest so have a bunch of things for you to smell while you look at photos in hopes something will come back to you.”

“That sounds like a great idea!” You smiled at Penelope.

The next hour or so went by with Penelope showing you photos and videos along with passing you various items to smell in hopes of bringing back some of your memories. And while it wasn’t like a wave crashing over you, bringing all your memories back, it did bring some things back. You could remember the members of the BAU and some of their quirks, you remembered the feeling of being in the bullpen (thanks to the smell of some very burnt coffee). What you were struggling to regain was your emotional memories, you couldn’t quite pinpoint the relationships you had with anyone from the team. 

“I am glad that this helped! I should probably get out of your hair though; I can tell you have headache.” Penelope

“Thank you Penelope, I really appreciate all of this!”

You led her to the door, and she reminded you to get some rest and to take it easy. She also suggested that you come by the BAU for lunch in the next week or so to see everyone. The team had been doing a good job of not overwhelming you and allowing you time to get back in the swing of things.

“Oh, Penelope before you go, did you get a chance to back up my old phone? Aaron said you were working on it.”

“Oh, hon. He must’ve forgotten to mention it, but I will get started on that right away! I’ll text you as soon as I’m done, okay? We will just be able to pull the backup and put it on your new phone!” She said pulling you into a tight hug, before making her exit.

Why would Aaron have lied to you about your old phone? Maybe Penelope was right, and it just slipped his mind, he had been dealing with a lot, taking care of you, and having you stay with him.

You hadn’t meant to snoop, honestly, but after having talked with Penelope, the feeling Aaron was hiding something from you was extremely prevalent. You decided to look around a bit, you know, while putting the laundry away. You needed to put the towels away in Aaron’s bathroom, you just happened to notice the second toothbrush in the holder, the dress hanging inside his closet (come on, the door was already open), the ring box tucked in his sock drawer, what shocked you the most were the photos in the hall closet. It was a photo of him and a tall brunette that had you spiraling, where was this woman? You had clearly been invading his space long enough and you couldn’t bear the thought of coming between him and this woman who was to be his fiancé.

You needed to get back to your life, and out of Aaron’s hair. You decided that you’d tell him that night over dinner, you were going to move back home.

“Hey, I’m home!” Aaron called.

“Hey, how was your day?” You asked.

Aaron explained that his day was good, and he asked you about your get together with Penelope as you finished up dinner. Aaron set the table as you followed behind him plating up the food.

“I’m glad to hear things went well with Penelope. I think lunch with the team is a great idea.”

“Aaron I’m gonna move back home.” The words flew out of your mouth faster than your brain could catch up. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to impose on your life any more than I already have.”

“It’s truly not an imposition, but if that’s what you want.” Aaron looked deflated.

“I just think it’s important we both get back to our usual every day.”

“If you think that’s best.”

You two ate in silence. Afterwards you both went to the kitchen, cleaned up the dishes and made your way to your separate rooms. You began packing up your belongings and Aaron scrolled through photos of the two of you from before the accident.

*Two Days Later*

“Good morning gorgeous!!! I am calling to inform you that the backup from your old phone is ready, and I also think it is the perfect day for you to come in and have lunch with everyone!” Penelope sang over the phone.

“Okay, what time should I come down there?”

“Ummm maybe around 12:30? Everyone is usually ready to eat by then. I can call and order in something too!”

“Oh, and uh Pen, I don’t know the address, and I’m not cleared to drive.” You said shyly.

“Oh shoot, okay! I’ll see who is available to come and pick you up, no worries.” Penelope reassured you.

You took some time getting ready, most of the team hadn’t seen you since before the injuries, and while the cuts and bruises have faded and scarred, you still had a very broken wrist and frequent headaches, along with PTSD and anxiety attacks thanks to the TBI. You felt like you had been doing well, and based on your recent check-up with your neurologist, things are trending up in regard to your health. Though you began to worry that the worst had yet to come.

A knock on your door shook you out of your thoughts, as you made your way to answer it, you wondered who Penelope sent to get you. Pulling the door open revealed someone you were hoping you wouldn’t see so soon.

“Hi Aaron.”

“Hello, were going to go pick up the food on the way back to the BAU, if that’s okay.” Aaron explained.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You nodded.

The drive was filled with tense silence. You couldn’t help but wonder why Aaron would harbor any negative feelings towards you. You’d only moved out of his apartment so he could get back on to his life, if anything he should be grateful that you’ve gone home. One of the main reasons you’d really decided to go home was because of the fact that you were growing far too comfortable.

Things at Aaron’s house were starting to feel right, like it was where you belong. You had no idea how you had been able to work with him over the last few years, the crush you had on him all those years ago had only proven to grow stronger.

“I’ll run in and grab the food.” Aaron said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Before you could reply, he stepped out of the car and made his way into the restaurant.  

Aaron got you signed in with a visitor’s badge (as you weren’t cleared to work) and then he led you up to the sixth floor, BAU bullpen. Upon walking in, you felt an odd sense of familiarity. You knew that it would make sense for the BAU to bring memories back and that you would have muscle memory to help lead you through the building, but it felt very strange.

You looked over at Aaron, “I need to go see Garcia, do you mind pointing me in the right direction?”

“Of course, her office is that way. Second door on the right.”

“Thanks.” You smiled.

You wandered through the corridor, catching a glimpse of Garcia through her open door. You lightly knocked on her door and walked into her office.

“Oh! Hello gorgeous!” Garcia squealed, standing, and pulling you into a hug.

“Hey Pen!”

“Let’s get your phone squared away and then we will go eat.”

You handed your phone over to Penelope and she began downloading the last backup from your old phone.

“This should only take a few minutes.”

Penelope and you made idle chit chat for a few moments while waiting on your phone. When it finished uploading, she unplugged it and handed it to you. The two of you then made your way to the bullpen.

Lunch with the BAU was overwhelming to say the least. It was fun talking to everyone, but you could tell everyone was walking on eggshells and you could see the pity flash behind their eyes as you sat and explained your lack of memories with the people sitting before you.

After lunch, Aaron let everyone leave early. It had been a paperwork day and the team had been very productive. He told them all to go home, but of course to leave their phones on, just in case they had to leave. Emily offered to drive you home, given the close proximity of your apartments.

When you got home, you changed into some comfortable clothes and sat on the couch. You took a deep breath and unlocked your phone. There were two things you noticed while going through everything, the first being a significant number of photos saved and the second being the texts exchanged between you and your boss.

You decided to go through the photos first. There were plenty of you with the various members of the BAU, but what caught your attention was one image in particular, in it, you were laid in bed with your head resting on a man’s chest…the man being none other than Aaron.

You quickly switched over to your messages app. Clicking Aaron’s name, you saw the most recent text…

“Be careful sweetheart. I love you.”

Your mind was racing, what were you meant to think, why would he keep this from you? Was the ring meant for you? You needed to see him.

You ordered an Uber and made your way to the FBI building. You signed in, getting a visitors’ badge and headed up to the sixth floor.

“Aaron” You called out into the bullpen.

“Is everything okay? What are you doing here?” Aaron asked as he walked out of his office.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Aaron questioned.

“That we were together.”

You gestured to your phone. Aaron dropped his gaze for a moment, before looking back to you. You could see the pain behind his eyes.

“Sweetheart, we had been keeping it a secret, and I don’t know, I guess I thought that maybe you’d be better off. I figured you might find someone more appropriate for you.”

“That wasn’t a choice for you to make. Aaron things have been confusing enough, losing my memory. But to have you lying to me, it’s total bullshit. How am I supposed to get my memories back if you are keeping such a big part of me a secret.” You couldn’t help the frustrated tears from slipping down your cheek.

Aaron reached for you and let his thumb brush the tear off your cheek. He stepped closer to you and brought his other hand to your cheek.

“I am so sorry. I should’ve told you from the get-go, I was scared. I thought that maybe I would tell you and you’d have to get to know me again and maybe you wouldn’t love me the way you did before. I also couldn’t help but think that I don’t deserve you and this was your perfect out. But that was selfish, I should’ve told you the truth.”

You leaned your head onto Aaron’s chest, and he wrapped his arms around you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline and then he pulled back.

“Can I show you something?” Aaron asked.

You nodded and followed him to his office. Aaron led you around his desk and gestured for you to sit in his chair. He pointed to his computer screen, and you took note of the screen saver. It was a slideshow of pictures taken throughout your relationship, there were pictures of you at the FBI Gala, Jack’s soccer game, art museums, at Aaron’s home, at your apartment, etc..

It happened slowly, then all at once. A warm feeling flooded your veins, and a dull ache filled your head. Tears were steadily streaming down your face. You looked up at Aaron, and he met your gaze. A moment was shared before understanding washed over Aaron.

“I remember.”

[indecisivemuch]

Foolish Ones

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: What if...there is a Prom at Camp Half-Blood? Aka, a story where the both of you are just blind fools who finally crossed the line between friends and something more (best friends-to-lovers, angst, fluff, pining, a lot of longing, lowkey jealous luke, HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!!!)

Note: Not proofread thoroughly. Idk, thought it would be funny if Prom was a thing at Camp Half-Blood. Sorry for the long break, I've been really busy but Easter break is coming soon! Inspired by a couple lines from "Dress" by Taylor Swift.

Word count: 3.8k

Despite the abnormal life of being Demigods, campers still buzz in excitement at the announcement of a prom happening at Camp Half-Blood. Never would they think that that would be a thing. But now that they knew it was an upcoming event, talks, gossip and bets started infiltrating every corner of the camp — who do people think would ask who to prom, who would reject who? After all, they were all still teenagers.

There was one thing that neither you nor Luke knew: the bet with the leading amount of participants was on the two of you. Some theorized he would take up this opportunity to finally confess his feelings and ask you to be his prom date. Some people bet that you would be the one to do the asking. Others claimed they had zero hope because it seemed like you two had been dancing on this line of something and nothing for too long that they could not remember when it started. 

Now, where to even begin on you and Luke. You were his first friend at camp. Despite the fear of opening up after the Thalia incident, it somehow felt so easy when it came to you. Then came your five years of friendship, and somewhere in between, glances turned to looks of longing. It became so evident that if you were to ask any campers about it, they’d have something to say — perhaps theories on when this all began or speculations on when the two of you would finally cross the line. Yet, somehow, the two of you were the only people who did not know of this slow-burn mutual pining.

The announcement of Camp Half-Blood’s Prom was in April, with the date of the event happening mid-May. You have rejected two prom date offers solely due to a pinch of hope that your best friend would ask you. You were hoping all his little actions that you sensed as things beyond the line of friends were true. But as time ticked, your confidence slowly diminished.

It was now the beginning of May, and that slight hope that Luke would ask you has now been reduced to the size of a grain of sand.

“I don’t think it’s gonna happen, Clarisse. Prom is two weeks away,” you sighed, hands on both sides of your face.

“Well, why don’t you ask him instead?”

“I would have…but by now, if he has not asked me, that probably means he is not interested, so I don’t see the point in doing so myself.” Gods, it was slightly exhausting for Clarisse to watch the both of you pine after each other for years only to stop right at the boundary of stepping into something. She watched as you sunk into some kind of self-spiraling moment. It was evident on your face that your brain was trying to convince you that Luke only felt platonic things. Sometimes, she believed you both must be utterly blind to not realize how the other felt.

“Well, I think—” Clarisse stopped when she saw you look behind her, mouth slightly agape with a shocked look. She smirked at this, almost letting out a breath of relief that Luke finally asked you to be his prom date. The girl turned around to face the sight that you were looking at, but she almost jumped upon seeing what was behind her. “Oh…?” The response left Clarisse’s mouth before she could think twice.

There he was, standing with a singular rose in his hand and a nervous look on his face.

“Y/N, will you be my prom date?”

The whole area was silenced. You were convinced other campers could even hear your thoughts in this deafening quiet. Gods, you could even feel their eyes glued onto you like hawks waiting on their prey.

In front of you was a boy from the Hermes cabin. Honestly, you did not even know his name. You just remember seeing him around occasionally. 

No, it was not Luke.

A short laugh left Clarisse’s mouth before she could stop herself, but she quickly did upon seeing you look in her direction. But to Clarisse, it was obvious, especially when you and Luke have had this long history of mutual feelings that everybody could see — Surely, the boy knew better. You have even turned down two others —

“Yes, I’ll go to prom with you.” Murmurs among campers came as soon as you said those words. You swore you heard gasps as well, though you ignored it as you stood up to take the flower from the boy’s hand. You gave him a half smile while deliberately ignoring the confused look Clarisse was sending you.

Somewhere between realizing there were merely two weeks before prom and getting asked out by this Hermes boy, your brain has prompted you to say yes. Your mind finally convinced you no good would come along with crushing on your best friend, not when he was not interested in you, and neither were you planning to be a fool to wait around any longer. Maybe getting asked out by other guys were signs you should move on. 

You could feel your heart aching and screaming at you to take your prom proposal acceptance back, but you ignored it. You have made up your mind. You knew moving on would hurt, especially after liking Luke for such a long time, but you deemed the pain as a necessary part of the process.

Little did you know, in the corner of the same area, stood a frozen figure.

Luke was standing still where he was emerging from with his breath stuck in his throat. His heart sank at the sight of what he had just witnessed. The boy's eyes fluttered as if hoping he could blink away the sight before him. However, as the situation sunk into his bones like claws digging and ripping through his skin, Luke let out a chuckle of dejection. 

“Luke?” Chris called out. Though upon seeing the sheer look of sorrow on Luke’s face, Chris tried to comfort his friend, “Come on, you can—”

“I can what? It’s too late, Chris. I took too long...” The Hermes cabin counselor looked down at his and Chris’s hands. He blankly stared at the poster he had made yesterday, the bouquet of your favorite flower that he had hand-picked for you, a box filled with gifts, balloons and photos of you two. 

If only you knew Luke had spent the last month preparing this prom proposal. He snuck out of camp multiple times to buy the things he needed, including hunting down the items you have always talked about. He wanted it all to be perfect because, to him, you deserve nothing less. Hence, it took him so long to ask you to prom…too long. 

Luke shut his eyes and let out a deep breath. He shook his head before deciding to hand everything to Chris, who was spilling out words of encouragement. However, realizing they were useless, Chris stopped. His eyes widened when Luke muttered at him to just throw away all the stuff that was now in his hand. Before he could object or change Luke’s mind, the Hermes cabin counselor had already vanished to clear his mind. 

Left alone, Chris looked down at all the stuff in his hand and sighed — Oh, you two were blind fools.

For the next two weeks, camp seemed duller from the lack of interactions between the two of you. The bet among campers was nullified since no one had bet that either of you were going with anybody else. They were so sure the two of you were meant to be.

Just like the rest of camp, you have felt off. You haven’t seen Luke since the day that boy asked you to be his prom date. It seemed almost like your best friend had been avoiding you, though you ruled it as his counselor duties filling up his schedule, especially considering prom was tonight, maybe Luke was helping with setting up the event.

You made your way back to your cabin to get ready, though you felt uneasy because of a negative feeling looming over your mood. You remember being so excited for prom when it was first announced, even anticipating it would be the night you had the most fun in your life. Yet, here you were, foot feeling heavy while heart feeling disconnected. You stopped in your step as you spotted a familiar figure, and the feeling that was weighing you down lifted slightly.

“Hey, stranger,” you could not bring yourself to say his name because you knew doing so would make your own heart tug. His name has somehow become part of your vocabulary — a word so endearing that it warmed your heart and brought a smile to your face every time you said it. You knew learning to unlove him would be a hard task, but not having him around felt was also daunting, “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy with counselor duties,” being best friends meant being able to pick up the slightest of signs that something was off, and you could hear the alarms ringing in your head. You started picking your nails but stopped when you saw him eying your hands. Curse his ability of knowing you too well.

Luke’s eyes softened at your nervous habit. He wanted to hug and comfort you over whatever unease you had, but the boy knew that would do more damage to his heart. To be so near you and knowing you didn’t like him that way. After all, you rejected two guys before agreeing to that one specific boy. Surely, that must have meant you thought the guy was cute or something.

“Oh, well…” you paused before quickly blurting out, “I’ll see later, then?” You could hear your brain scowling at your heart. You wondered if you seemed desperate.

Meanwhile, Luke felt his heart soar at the thought of you wanting to see him, yet at the same time, it ached. He felt pathetic, really. But nevertheless, he was willing to take anything you were willing to offer him, even if it was just a small glance his way. 

Luke wanted to mock his own heart sometimes, calling it sadistic because how could it want you so badly that it was willing to hurt itself doing so? Yet, deep down, the boy knew if crushing his own heart into pieces would bring a smile to your face, he would do exactly so. Gods, you were going to be his demise.

“Yeah, see you later, Y/N” he answered, and you quickly waved him goodbye before entering your cabin and going towards your bed. You sat down on your bed, feeling the mattress sink while your heart also did the same slightly. Something has changed between the two of you, and you hated this awkwardness looming around.

Your eyes landed on the dress you bought a month ago. Your eyebrows scrunched whilst trying to ignore how your heart was aching.

It was in Luke’s favorite color. 

~~~~~~~~

Shawn, your prom date was a nice guy. He gave you a flower and said you looked pretty, and you thanked him before complimenting him back. Then, the two of you joined others around the campfire, swaying along to the music while engaging in small talk. You tried your best to ignore the feeling that was weighing down your chest. Though, you could not help but zone out from whatever Shawn was saying.

Luke hated knowing Shawn and knowing he was not at all a bad candidate for you. However, Luke also hated knowing he could be better than Shawn and could offer you so much more if only he had done so sooner. 

You looked ravishing tonight. Luke felt as if he had been bewitched at first sight. You left him stunned and speechless. Every inch of you left him mesmerized. 

Oh, your dress was in his favorite color. His heart leaped at that as his eyes lingered on how the fabric hugged your body. It’s been an hour since you arrived, and Luke’s eyes have not left you at all, as if they were made just to look at you and nothing else. Even with the music and conversations around him, he could only focus on your occasional laughs and murmurs. He sighed in longing at the thought of having you in his arms as the two of you danced the night away, leaving this one night branded in his heart as one that would redefine his life. Instead, here he was, a spectator rather than the lucky one. 

Luke looked away, trying to breathe out the envy that was overfilling every organ in his body. The boy knew he was to be blamed for the anguish he was drowning in, but he still despise the situation. Luke felt his chest was hollow like an empty glass frame with only his crumbled heart hanging up to be displayed, and worst of all, everybody could see it. If he could, he would abandon his Demigod life to go build a time machine. 

Oh, the despair of losing something and someone he never had. Maybe your acceptance of Shawn’s prom proposal was Aphrodite telling Luke to move on. However, that was the last thing he would ever do. He’d much rather love you in the dark forever instead.

You have re-painted his notion of love and rearranged his understanding of it. Now, whenever he even remotely thought of the word, he could only seem to think of you. Luke could not fathom thinking of anybody else ever when thinking of love.

Luke turned back to where you were, hoping to steal one last look before leaving the event. He thought that maybe this was it. Perhaps it was time to forever close the door on the idea of ever letting you know of his feelings. However, his heart quickly hitched when he saw that your eyes were already on him — those eyes that could talk him into doing anything. 

He wanted to turn away, he really did. But how could he be the first to break eye contact? Gods, you were his Achilles heel, and forever would you have him at your disposal, even if your heart does not belong to him.

His mind started rewiring. You hadn’t stopped looking at him, and the expression on your face was enough to spark a speck of hope in him. But like always, anything related to you would spread through his heart, mind, and body like a wildfire that he never had bothered to put out. 

Before Luke could think about it, his foot took him towards you and through the bodies of people dancing. By the time he reached you, he was not sure if it was the campfire or the nerves that were heating up his cheeks. 

“Can I steal Y/N for a second?” Luke spoke as Shawn spotted him. However, the second Shawn saw the look on Luke’s face, something seemed to click in his mind. He turned to you next, and that was when he knew it was time. There was no competition here, at least from Shawn’s point of view. There was a love story, and it was clear as day who you were meant to end up with. Part of him knew of this even before asking you out, yet he wanted to give it a shot anyway. But it was time for him to step away, and Shawn did it without much bitterness. He nodded and patted Luke on the back before walking away.

One of your favorite slow songs started playing, and Luke smiled when your eyes glimmered at that. Luke felt that heavy feeling in his heart lifted for the first time in two weeks. He never realized the extent of it, but just seeing you happy was enough to make him feel the same. You mirrored Luke’s smile, letting out a small sigh of relief when noticing he was no longer distant. Gods, you missed the way both his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and that’s how you knew he meant it. You were elated at the thought that maybe things are returning to normal for you two.

“May I have this dance?” Luke offered a hand to you. There was something so sincere in his voice that caught you slightly off-guard. Though, you brushed it off like always, still convinced that your best friend did not see you that way.

Before you knew it, the two of you were swaying while giggling along with the song. You almost snorted from the jokes Luke was whispering in your ears while Luke would proudly smile at himself when you playfully hit his chest from his cheeky comments and remarks. You both swayed to the music that was slowly fading away. He softly leaned his head on yours, closing his eyes with contentment as he caught the smell of your perfume, which would always linger behind, leaving traces of you every time you departed.

The song finished, but Luke’s feet continued swaying despite the silence between songs. He would dance until his legs deteriorated if that was the only way to keep you near him.

Oh, to have you but not have you. It felt as if somebody had cut Luke’s heart open and sprinkled salt on the wound. It hurt him, but nevertheless, he looked at you like you were the only one that he could imagine himself being with. His eyes lingered on every detail of you, swallowing them whole as if he intended to make you the subject of all his paintings, like an obsessed artist.

“Luke?”

Luke closed his eyes briefly as his breath quivered at the sound of his name on your lips. You said his name, and his world just stopped. It has been a good two weeks since he had heard his name from your lips, and it suddenly reminded him how much of a desperate man he was when it came to your words, your touch, your looks, and everything that had to do with you. He was utterly defenseless.

“I don’t want you like a best friend,” Luke breathed out before he could think twice. Realizing what he had just said, he decided right then that he wanted you to know everything. He wanted to let you look into his heart and understand it has always been yours.

“What?”

“I want you—I want to be yours,” he spoke, tripping over his words as his mind spun around what to say next. There were too many things he wanted to say, and he desperately wanted this moment to be perfect. 

“I really, really like you, Y/N,” he spoke, hoping it would send the exact message he was trying to convey. “Like in a hopeless and irrevocable way… it’s driving me insane.” He added, his voice slightly shaking, though his heart burned when you didn’t reply. 

“Please say something,” he whispered, any bit of courage he had earlier evaporated faster than he could imagine.

Your mouth hung slightly agape at his words. His words has seemingly took all your breath away.

He wanted you. 

You almost laughed at how pathetic it was that both of you had been sulking the whole night over something that could have been avoided if either of you had the guts to speak up. Just an hour ago, you were so determined to get over him. Yet, here you were. This moment felt like having your dreams come true and unsure what to do with it. But deciding enough time has been wasted, you wrapped your arms around his head and pulled him down towards you.

Luke met you in the middle. His breath trembled slightly as your lips met his. He immediately put his hands on both sides of your face, caressing it ever so delicately like he was holding a national treasure in his hand. The boy felt his angst melting away, heart tangled in his throat as the moment rendered him speechless. If he could pick one singular moment to remember in his next life, this moment would be it.

You giggled as Luke unintentionally whined quietly when you pulled away. You mirrored his actions and set your hands on the sides of his face. Your thumb rubbed his face before uttering, “I like you too…” You watched as a grin grew on his face, and you mirrored it, quickly adding, “In fact, I think I like you a little too much.”

“Gods, you don’t understand how much I like you.”

“I’m sure we’ll have time later to find that out,” he grinned at your words.

The sound of someone whistling pulled you both from your little moment. Turning both your heads, you saw Chris with a big folded piece of paper, balloons, flowers, and a rather big box. Luke let out a chuckle in disbelief. He was grateful his friend did not follow his words and threw away the items. 

You watched as Luke left your side for a second to grab the box and muttered something to Chris. The other boy unfolded the paper, and your eyes widened slightly at the sign.

“I was gonna ask you to be my prom date, but Shawn beat me to it,” Luke approached you with your favorite flowers and the box, opening it to let you peer in. When your eyes landed on the things in there, your heart almost melted. Some of it was your favorite treats, a small photo album of the two of you, and gifts you always mindlessly said you wanted to have. Some were hard to find, and the thought of him going out of his way to hunt down these items warmed your heart.

“It’s too late to ask you to be my prom date now…but I do have another question I want to ask,” you looked up at him, and the way he looked at you right at that moment made you realize you were screwed forever because nobody would ever measure.

“Will you be mine instead?” Luke watched as you smiled at his words and took the flower out of his hand.

“How could I ever say no to you?” you pulled him in again, and Luke, once again, sank into the kiss like an addiction he welcomed with open arms. 

Oh, you were the best thing that ever happened to Luke, and he was never intending on letting you go.

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

masterlist

join my Luke Castellan taglist

taglist: @nininehaaa @perseus-jackass @tanifsblog @bubbly0 @hinata7346 @justanotherkpopstanlol @mysteris-things @randomgurl2326 @star611 @2hiigh2cry @seriously-slytherin22 @spideytingley @blondervoi @stuffyownswrld @fantasticchaosthing @amortencjja @chunkiwhunki @bookwormlu @crack240 @fandomthings-blog @sh0-ya @milkncookies143 @burdeningbitch @bugcuti3 @alexisishaunted @lilacspider @olivegirl123 @nellyjan-th @kehlanislefttoe @awenthealchemist @intergalactic-padawan @ricciardolover @whorecruxfortom @locknco @vanessa-rafesgirl @achenetype @haley2004 @ahlookatallthelonelypeople @strawberry--bunny @dancing-inasnowglobe @aviddilfenjoyer @jpg3 @ughnayaxoxo @jennapancake @slutt4siriusblack @marlenelyra @llpovi @ambrozjas-alt @catiwinky @wandas-gurlfri3nd @amandareids @kurtcobaingirlie @milkyhrtss @bruiswd @remussbitch @star-flecked-soul @asthmaticism @fairieeee @mehrmonga @siimplyapril @chaos-and-food @itsarajr @worstsimpevertbh @black-redrose @moonintheforest @losraire @fennecswife @lifebutterflyeffect04 @huang-the-geek @zofireads @taelattecookie @needy-much @dark-academia-slut @caramelandvenus @idli-dosa @just--a--random--human--being @niktwazny303 @ramirez03052010 @saffronwritesstuff @just-a-blue-nerd @yomochuu

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we begin our first 5-digit word count chapter (I can’t be stopped, someone take away my keyboard) and I find a stride of about two chapters per week, I want to say that: A) I fully intend on finishing this story. I plotted out the whole thing before I started, have made a few adjustments given the pacing I’ve done so far, and with how it’s broken down right now we’ll reach the end in 2-3 months. B) Thank y’all from the bottom of my heart for reading! If you have theories or thoughts or feedback please don’t hesitate to share them! I love hearing what you think of the plot and the characters, and every interaction means the world to me. Whether you’re only reading or leaving comments as well, thank you so damn much. I’ll see you next chapter (it’s gonna be a doozy) <3

Chapter Title from Bells in Santa Fe by Halsey.

Word Count: 11.2k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You throw a punch, and Phase One: Operation Quick and Bald goes. Not well, but it goes. Contains usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 5 - Chapter 7

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

Ben dodged the third punch in a row, grinning widely right up until the fourth one landed on his face.

“Ha!” She yelled, drawing back to shake her first out. “Take that, you weirdly fast man.”

Ben rolled his eyes, rubbing his face lightly. It hadn’t hurt—he’d barely even felt it—but She was being real fucking smug for someone who’d only just landed a hit after a damn week of attempting to do so.

“Yeah, sure, Sunshine. Keep it the fuck up, and at this rate it’ll only take you another couple thousand years to surpass Muhammad Ali.”

She raised her brows at Ben, pausing with a tilt of her head. “You were a fan of Muhammad Ali?”

He nodded, giving her a scrunched look of annoyance. “I’m a fucking American, and there ain’t nothing more red-blooded American than punching commies like that son of a bitch did.”

“What?”

“When he fought the Russian, and won. That’s fucking American.”

“Ben, you’re thinking of the plot of Rocky IV.”

“No, Muhammad Ali fought that Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass.”

“No, Sylvester Stallone fought the Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass. In a movie.” She laughed to herself. “I’m shocked you even saw Rocky IV, let alone were so impacted by it to let the plot override your knowledge of a real life person.”

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, moving his hands back to a defensive stance. She fucking always won these stupid arguments, and Ben couldn’t actually prove it, but he knew She was changing the fucking internet she loved so damn much to match her claims. “Go again.”

“Someone missed nap time.” She muttered under her breath, even though she knew Ben could fucking hear her, but put her fists up anyways. “Can this be the last one? I’m hungry.”

Instead of answering, Ben just launched himself at her, and She jumped to the side with a yelp.

“What the fuck, Ben!”

He turned and threw another punch, feeling pleased at the smooth way she ducked away and met it with a punch of her own. Her face had lost the pissy shock, laser-sharp concentration replacing it. Her eyes were narrowed, darting across Ben as he moved, her bobbing and weaving wasn’t entirely shit, and her heart was controlled with her breathing. She landed her second punch, this one on his shoulder, and Ben laughed, delivering one of his own.

“Christ, Sunshine, you’re fucking weak.” He laughed, examining Her carefully for any loss of control.

“I’ll kill you with my bare hands, Bitch.” She growled, lunging forward and grunting in frustration as Ben dodged with ease.

“That’s my line.” He taunted. “And you couldn’t even kill a man with an assault rifle if he was a fucking foot away from you.”

“Blow me.”

“I’ve been fucking trying- Fuck!” She landed her third punch, and it burned. Ben reached to touch where she’d hit and felt the skin mending across his jaw.

She was grinning in a wide, toothy, satisfied way. “Suck on that, cunt.”

“Bitch,” he muttered, looking down at his hand to see it raw and red from the contact with his face, with some of his fucking hair stuck to it.

“Did you burn off my fucking beard!” His head shot up to see a half-sheepish, half-amused look on her face, lips curled and eyes wide.

“Oops.”

He yelled her name, and she had the fucking nerve to giggle. “We said no fucking powers!”

“I forgot.” She said lamely, her face less and less apologetic by the second, giggling again as she offered some of the most insincere comfort Ben had ever heard. “It’s not even that noticeable! You look just as good as before!”

His anger faded, and he gave Her a cocky smirk, raising his brows. “You think I look good, Sunshine?”

“I’m being nice. Don’t ruin it.” She muttered, her face adorably flushed, and Ben didn’t miss the skip of her heart.

“Whatever keeps you up at night.”

“That’s not the phrase.”

He winked. “I know.”

She scoffed and turned away, but not before Ben could see the slight smile on her lips. “I’m going to shower, I’ll meet you in the living room in fifteen. If you’re not there, with food, I’m eating the TV.”

Ben frowned, calling after Her figure moving down the hall. “Has the TV been edible this whole fucking time and you didn’t fucking tell me?!”

Her laughter echoed back down the hall. "You're real fucking gullible, grampa!"

“You know I can’t fucking tell when you’re joking about that shit, you bitch!”

“Fourteen minutes, cunt!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to make food in fourteen minutes?!”

“You’re a big boy, you’ll figure it out!”

Grumbling a string of cusses Ben hoped She could fucking feel, Ben grabbed a cup of instant noodles and threw them in the microwave, wondering if She would notice if he spit in hers. After pulling them out, grabbing two spoons from the counter that he almost immediately bent, spilling one of the cups as he noticed the damaged utensils, spilling the other when he noticed the first spill, and having to start the whole damned fucking thing over, Ben made his way to drop on the couch next to where She sat, wet hair clinging to her pretty face.

“Heard a lot of swearing, Pretty Boy, everything ok?”

He grunted, shoving Her noodles against her chest and letting go, not giving a fuck if she had a grip on them. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Just asking a question,” he could hear her shit-eating grin. “Thought it was a free country. Thought a patriot like you would appreciate me exercising my first amendment right.”

“That protects you from the government, not me.” Ben parroted back the words She had yelled at him after he’d made the apparently fucking fatal mistake of saying “first amendment right” in her presence.

She chuckled, her voice teasing. “Didn’t know you were capable of retaining information about something other than yourself.”

“Well, your tits were looking great while you were bitching. It helped.” He grabbed the remote, raising it to the TV. “I made food. I’m picking what we watch.”

“If you pick Game of Thrones so you can watch the sex scenes again, I’m figuring out a way to kill myself and doing it on your bed.”

“Whatever gets you in my bed, Sunshine.” He winked. “And I’m invested in the fucking plot, it’s not just the sex scenes.”

“It’s mostly the sex scenes.” She said, not even flinching at his flirtation. “Just go watch porn. See how fast you can break the fleshlights. If you do all three in ten minutes, Butcher owes me twenty dollars.”

Ben scowled, not enjoying that She’d apparently been making fucking bets with Butcher about his masturbation. “I can last longer than ten fucking minutes, I’m not a fucking pussy.”

“Prove it.”

He grinned widely at Her as her face flushed adorably, her own phrasing catching up with her head. “I’d be honored, Sunshine.”

“You’re like a fucking rabbit in heat.” She muttered. “And if you do last longer than ten, Hughie gets the money, so keep that in mind when you’re jerking it to dragon boobs after I go to bed.”

“The dragons don’t have any fucking boobs, dumbass, the fucking hot lady queens do.” Ben said smugly, ignoring her eye roll. “And I would ‘jerk it’ in the privacy of my room, but someone won’t give me a fucking phone.”

“Yeah, the CIA. I’d actually back you up with Mallory, Pretty Boy. I think giving you a phone would be really entertaining.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.” He snapped, and she laughed.

“Can’t rely on just a handsome face to convince her that you somehow deserve the internet.”

“Handsome face?” He grinned at her, and only the slight stutter of her heart told Ben she heard him.

She made a mock face of thought. “Maybe if we suggested parental controls…”

“I’ll kill you, bitch.”

“I’ll make you the most useless and sad eunuch to ever grace this sorry planet, cunt.”

Ben glared at Her, and she reached over his arm to press play on the remote.

Most of the days since the failed Sister Sage mission had been like this. She and Ben got up, trained, ate, trained more, and then watched TV with dinner until She retreated to her room and Ben fought sleep for the rest of the night, alone. Neither of them mentioned how he’d saved her, or how She had started a habit of slapping Ben awake—he was pretty fucking certain that at this point she had figured out another way to break through the nightmares but was purposely choosing to fucking hit him instead—before she’d sit next to him for an hour or two after. Ben liked this unspoken arrangement, and liked even more how She had silently agreed to it. Just because he didn’t actively hate Her right now didn’t mean he was about become a sniveling pussy mess about feelings. Even if the lack of active hatred had morphed into something pulsing in his chest that he didn’t understand, and didn't fucking want to. Making Her instant noodles and not killing her when she lied to him for fun or called him “Pretty Boy” was as far as Ben would bend.

It had been mostly radio silence from the Boys, though Butcher and Cocksucker had visited two days after they’d dropped Her and Ben back at the safe house, as Cocksucker had managed to break his arm. There had been a long, incredibly boring and poorly told story as to how the injury had occurred, involving a supe, Nikola Tesla and something called a Cybertruck, but Ben had pretty much tuned out the entire fucking conversation once he realized they weren’t here for him at all. The only thing that had kept him from retreating to his room for the duration of the visit was the small falter in Her heart when she touched Cocksucker, her jaw clenched as Ben and Butcher watched Cocksucker’s arm heal into place in a fucking disgusting manner.

When She’d let go, she’d given Ben a weird fucking look with tight lips and sad eyes that he'd only seen before on Cocksucker. It had passed quickly, her face returning to apathetic and bored, her eyes regaining the sharp amusement they usually held, but fuck it had confused him. She and Butcher had started talking about missions and planning and other mind-numbing shit, Cocksucker shaking out his arm as if he didn’t trust that it was healed, and Ben had needed to piss and gone to do just that. Before he’d left, he’d caught Her a look of where the hell are you’d going, he’d grinned back with a wink of why, you want to join me?, and she’d rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Butcher. When he’d returned, Butcher and Cocksucker had left and She was glaring at him, arms across her chest.

“Are you an idiot, or just a dick?” She’d snapped.

He’d frowned at Her, trying to figure out what had made her all fucking bitchy. As far as Ben was concerned, he’d been fucking amazing, only calling Butcher a pussy twice and managing to refrain from talking to Cocksucker at all. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Butcher told me we’re moving on operation Quick and Bald soon. He told me you knew. Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!”

“Oh,” Ben had rolled his eyes. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

He’d shrugged. “Well, you fucking know now, so get over it. And what kind of fucking shit codename is Quick and Bald?”

“Fuck you, it’s an accurate and descriptive name.”

“How the fuck could that be ‘accurate and descriptive’?”

“Because two key factors of this phase of my plan are the quick and the bald.”

“Your plan?”

“Yeah, my fucking plan. That I fucking deserved to know the status of.” She’d scowled. “Butcher says it’s almost ready. He’ll get us in two days once it’s in place.”

That had been five days ago. Starlight and Cocksucker had dropped in after two days, full of apologies and updates that Ben didn’t give a fuck about, and when he’d asked Her for more information about the plan, she���d told him to “suck her dick and shove his questions up his ass until they reached his brain.”

So Ben still had no fucking clue what Quick and Bald was about.

Aside from Her lingering anger at him for apparently having the fucking nerve to ask questions about the jobs he had to do—an opinion he had made the mistake of voicing, leading the unwelcome lesson on the first amendment—She was being impossibly easy to talk to, and Ben was getting dangerously close to not only enjoying her company, but finding her comfortable. Part of him was hoping she’d say something very, very soon that would allow him to grip onto hatred, or at least indifference, for the rest of his time in this stupid fucking situation.

Instead, in a way that made Ben think God himself was out to fucking get him, he’d started to tell her things. Fucking voluntarily.

One of those nights where sleep had gripped his head and pulled him under, struggling and roaring, he’d woken up once more from only the force and sting of her hand across his face. She’d sat next to him again, and he’d asked her more questions about before, all of which she’d answered with a faraway, insufferably sad look in her eyes.

“How many siblings did you fucking have again?” He’d pressed once.

“Four,” She’d responded, a wistful smile on her face. “Two brothers, two sisters. All younger.”

“Your parents had four more kids after you? What, were you that fucking annoying they needed to try again four fucking times?”

“No, I was just so adorable they needed to try and recreate my perfection. Once they realized that was impossible, they gave up.” She’d smirked, and Ben hated that somehow he didn’t doubt her words. “Well,” she’d mused to herself. “That and they fell violently out of love with each other.”

“Violently?” He’d made a face, and she’d nodded solemnly.

“I shielded my siblings from a lot of flying plates.”

Ben found another thing to hate. Her parents, and how fucking sad she looked. “You miss them?”

“My parents?” She’d snorted. “I miss my dad. I hope my mom gets her head popped.”

He’d coughed to cover a laugh. “No, you fucking smartass. Your siblings.”

Her answer was quick and soft. “Every fucking day.”

Ben had grunted, watching the distance return to her face, and before he could stop himself, he was talking. “I didn’t have any siblings.”

Before he could curse himself out and try to distract Her with something else, she had been looking back at him with wide, focused eyes. “Do you wish you did?”

“I never thought about it,” he’d muttered. “My father was such a fucking dick I’m surprised he even got my mother to marry him, let alone fucking have one kid. I think he hated me enough to never fucking risk it again.”

“Risk it?” She’d kept her voice impossibly gentle as she’d asked, and it made his skin crawl all weird.

“I was the biggest fucking regret of his life. If he could go back and stop me from happening in the first place, make my mother flush me out, he wouldn’t have fucking hesitated.”

She’d paused, and a very fucking stupid part of Ben had thought she was going to let the conversation go. Of course, he should’ve fucking known by now that She damn well wouldn’t.

“What was your mom like?”

He hadn’t fucking expected that, and it had shocked him enough to answer. “Kind. Too kind for my father, he saw it as fucking weakness and told her all the fucking time. But she was so fucking kind.” He took a heavy breath. “She was full of love, and I have no fucking clue how. It was fucking stupid, all her love, even for my piece of shit father. He’d yell at her and threaten her and mock her, but she still fucking loved him. She fucking loved everything.”

Her voice was still gentle from beside him. “Like what?”

“Animals. Cats specifically. My father had all these fucking hunting dogs he loved more than anything, certainly more than me, and the only good thing he ever fucking did was trade one to get her a cat. It was massive, fluffy and gray, and it was a fucking asshole to everyone but her. It ate like a fucking elephant, shed like a whore in summer, but she loved it so fucking much.” At this point Ben had really wished he would shut the fuck up, but he couldn’t, and he was going to have to figure out a way to blame Her for that later. “She loved art. Painting. She tried to get me to love it too, even though I could barely draw a fucking worm. But I’d try, and she’d frame all my stupid, shitty drawings and hang them around the house until my father saw them and threw them in the trash. She loved music but couldn’t carry a tune if her life fucking depended on it. They’d go to the opera because my father would donate a ton for the publicity, and she’d come back all damn giddy. I’d wait up, just because she was fucking contagious when she was that happy. Even my father felt it, enough to just go straight to bed and not kick my ass for still being awake. She was fucking smart, too. Real fucking smart. My father would joke he wished she was a man, because then her brain would be useful. She would’ve fucking jumped for joy if she saw the world now. Met a fucking woman doctor.” He paused, looking back down at Her beside him. She hadn’t looked away from him, and there was none of the pity he’d expected to see on her face. It was just open, listening intently to his words with no malice or trickery behind her eyes.

“She sounds amazing.” She’d said softly, a small smile he didn’t understand on her face. “And your dad sounds like a fucking cunt.”

Ben had chuckled in surprise. “Fucking understatement of the damn year, Sunshine. That pussy would’ve tried to pry your degree from your fucking hands.”

“Let him try, I’d burn his fucking face off and laugh while I did it.”

“What were you even going to fucking do with a PhD in archeology?" He’d asked, and she’d huffed a small laugh.

“Anthropology, Pretty Boy. But nice guess.” She corrected. “And I’m honestly not sure. I’d quite literarily only just actually received the degree before everything… changed.” She’d sighed. “I had a few job offers, but mostly in academia and business. What I wanted was to work with nonprofits to help people.”

“Help people?” He’d given her a disbelieving stare. “With a prissy fucking degree?”

“Yeah, dickwad. Help people. I was a cultural anthropologist. I specialized in the evolution of cultures and ways to combat systemic cultural oppression.”

He’d stared at Her blankly. “You’re going to have to take down the fucking fancy talk by seven, Sunshine.”

“I studied how the government and culture is mean to people on purpose, and how to make them stop being mean.” She’d said flatly.

“Oh.” He’d rolled his eyes at the dirty look she was giving him. “Oh, fuck off. It wasn’t that painful to say.”

“Yes, it was.” She’d mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re not going to argue with me?”

“What’s there to fucking argue about?”

“I just called your beloved country an ‘oppressive system’.” She’d watched him wearily, but her heart remained steady. “Doesn’t it mar your refined American nationalism?”

“Do you fucking want me to be mad?” Ben had asked, raising his brows at her. “I can definitely find it in me, that’s not a fucking issue. But usually when we fight about this shit, you get all bitchy and don’t talk to me for way too fucking long.”

“I mean, no, I don’t want you to get mad…” She’d frowned, examining him with yet another fucking confusing look. “Does it really bother you when I ignore you?”

“No.” He’d snapped quickly. “It’s just annoying, and I don’t like having to fucking deal with it.”

She’d hummed with an amused smile on her face, and the conversation had moved on to something else. Ben had shoved down the way it had been so easy to talk about his mother with her, until it was somewhere in his gut and he didn’t have to think about the way the feeling rolled around inside him.

And he refused to even acknowledge how when She would smile now, he’d have to fight himself to not do the same.

———-

It had been a week since the Sage incident, a week since Ben had saved your life—you'd locked everything about that particular action from what you thought of it to how it made you feel somewhere deep in your chest—and you were starting to lose your mind a little bit. When Annie and Hughie had stopped by with nervous words about delays in your meticulously prepared and incredibly well-detailed plan, you’d been willing to wait another day, maybe two, before executing operation Quick and Bald. Now it had been three days, burgeoning on four, and you were worryingly close to leaving the safe house just to yell at Butcher. Ben could stay here, or follow you and help you beat Butcher up for all you cared. Which was, admittedly, worrying within itself. Especially because the whole point of operation Quick and Bald was to take preventative measures against Ben’s needless brutality.

Over a month ago, right after you’d moved into the safe house and when you had been ready to throttle Ben’s neck every waking moment—an urge that hadn’t entirely waned, but was now undercut with a weirder, stronger urge to be near him without any murderous intent—you’d spent the hours quarantined in your room perfecting your plan to get Ryan Butcher the fuck out of dodge. When they’d come to pick you and Ben up for the whole Neuman test, you’d left it in the van for Butcher to find, and had been waiting since for him to set up the dominoes so you could knock them over.

At this point, you’d be happy with not even “dominos to knock over” and just “one singular domino to throw at someone." You had begun to develop a habit of staring down the hall from the living room, trying to will someone to appear with at least a fucking update. So far this strategy was not working, and had apparently started to garner attention.

Sitting on the couch, the TV white noise in the background and noodles in your hand cold and forgotten, you felt a foreign rush of oddly tight concern run through your body. You frowned, heard your name from next to you, and turned to find that Ben had been poking your arm.

“Are you fucking alive?” He grunted, watching you with a frown.

“Literally? Yes.” You answered with a tight smile. “You have noodles on your face.”

He reached up to feel for them, not looking away from you. “What the fuck do you mean literally? How can you be fucking metaphorically alive?”

“Mind-body problem, Pretty Boy. And it’s not metaphorically, it’s philosophically.” You lean back, grinning.

“You’re a real fucking pretentious bitch sometimes.” He grumbled, still trying to find the food stuck to his beard.

“If you made me a shirt that said that, I’d wear it.”

“I’m not going to fucking make you a shirt, Sunshine. You couldn’t make me learn to fucking sow with a gun to my head.”

“Because the gun wouldn’t affect you at all?” You pointed to your own chin, mirroring where the noodle was caught.

He sneered. “Because I’m not a pussy.” His hand found the stray piece of his dinner, and he pulled it from his jaw.

“Big words from the man who took two tries to make me instant ramen- hey!” A wet noodle hits you in the face.

“Ramen your ungrateful ass didn’t even fucking eat.” Ben gave a pointed look at the abandoned cup in your hands, the food inside having long lost any heat. “Don’t fucking test me, or I’ll actually spit in your food next time.”

“Drama queen,” you muttered, peeking back at the door. “Like you don’t already do that.”

“I fight the urge to be a fucking bitch, unlike certain women.”

You nod absentmindedly. “Butcher.”

Ben snorted behind you, and a smile you hoped he didn’t see crept onto your face.

“Yeah, sure Sunshine.” His attention returned to the TV, and you did your best to not stare down the hall, trying to ignore the hope that the door now shrouded in darkness would open.

A successful effort that made you jump out of your seat when it did just that with an aggressive bang.

Ben was faster than you, practically launching himself over the sofa and bolting down the hall, a dangerous look of alarm the last thing you saw on his face before he was gone from the room.

“Shit, no! It’s me!” You heard a high-pitched shout from the shadows of the entrance. “It’s Hughie!”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You heard Ben’s growl of a response.

Butcher’s voice drawled from the shadows. “Oi, take a deep fucking breath and put the bloody kid down.” 

“Someone fucking answer me first.”

“Put him down, Soldier Boy, before we knock your ancient ass the fuck out.” The impatient, clipped words of MM responded, almost drowned out by Frenchie's shout.

“Can someone turn on the fucking lights? It is as dark as Monsieur Butcher’s heart and asshole!” 

“I- I don’t feel good.” Hughie’s voice stuttered.

“Ben!” You flicked on the hallway sconces, illuminating a scene of Ben’s full body weight pressing Hughie to the wall, Butcher and MM trying with practically negative success to pry him off, and Kimiko gripping one of Frenchie’s arms as his other groped around for direction. You let out a very long, very loud sigh. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s fucking late,” he snapped, not letting Hughie go. “They shouldn’t be here so fucking late.”

“This ain’t your real house, Mate.” Butcher grunted, still trying to move Ben. “We can be here whenever we bloody well please.”

Hughie wheezed out your name in a pleading tone. “Your plan is ready. We’re here to- fuck- we’re here to get you.”

That got you moving, crossing to the end of the hall in quick, frantic steps. “It’s ready? Are you sure?” Hughie gave a weak nod, and you rolled your eyes, shoving Ben shoulder. “Put him down, dumbass. He’s not a threat, and honestly, probably the worst one to have gone after. Just, like, strategically.”

Ben glared at you, but let go. He glanced at where MM and Butcher were still grabbing him, and gave them a venomous look that got them both to let go and take hasty steps back. He shot a glowering look of they could’ve fucking waited until the morning in your direction.

You wrinkled your nose at him. No. Shut the fuck up. You turned to Hughie, not even bothering to hide the desperation you felt in your imploring stare. “It’s all ready? All of it? A-Train agreed to help? We’re sure Ashley has the information? We’re sure neither one is going to tell Homelander, and we’re not about to walk into a fucking trap?”

“Yes, yes, yes, kind of, and yes.” Butcher counted off on his fingers as he answered. “But we’ve got to go right fucking now.”

“Kind of?” Anxious energy rushed through you—that still-strange feeling lighting under your skin—and you ignored the weird look Ben shot you as it did. “What do you mean, kind of? If you fucked this up, Butcher, I swear to God-"

“Calm the fuck down, Love.” Butcher snapped. “It’s going to be fine, we’ll explain on the way. But we need to go fucking now if you want this to work.”

You gave a sharp nod, starting to pull on your boot, glancing up with a pause when you heard Hughie say your name behind you.

“Do you, uh, do you want to get dressed first?” His voice was still slightly weak as he recovered from Ben’s force.

You glanced down at your body, and decided that the oversized shirt and cloth shorts would be fine. They were from the CIA spring fire-proof collection, and that was more than enough. “Nope. Let’s fucking move.”

You were halfway to the door when a crash sounded behind you, and you whirled around to see MM firmly blocking Ben’s path, the crash seeming to have been Hughie stumbling into the wall in an attempt to get away from the standoff.

“You’re not coming, Soldier Boy. This is a goddamn delicate operation, and you’re the fucking reason we have to do it in the first place. We can’t afford you throwing a tantrum and screwing us.”

“I’m fucking coming, and it’s not up for fucking debate.”

Off to the side, Frenchie snickered as Kimiko signed how many times do you think he’s said that before?

Ben shot them an annoyed look, his fists clenching. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Nothing,” Frenchie snickered, and his tone was so remarkably unconvincing that even if you hadn’t understood Kimiko, you wouldn’t have believed him.

Ben grunted and tried to move past MM, again to no avail.

He glared down at the firmly planted man, a familiar violent glint in his eyes. “You better fucking move now, before I make you.”

“Do your fucking worst, we’ll put you right back in the box. You’re not coming with us.”

“MM,” you said firmly, watching Ben's fists clench as the dangerous glint returns to his eyes. “We need to go.”

MM looks back at you, but remains in his place. “Are you fucking serious? You’re siding with him?”

“I’m not siding with him.” You keep your voice level, ignoring Ben’s smug face and grin. “We can’t leave him. The I go where he goes thing unfortunately goes both ways.”

“The safe house will hold him for five hours.” MM pushed, and before you could even shake your head, Ben cut in.=

"No, it won’t.”

You shoot him a look that says you’re being unhelpful, and he just returns it with his own of fuck off, you know you fucking want me there.

“Please, MM. He’ll stay quiet in the background, or I’ll burn his dick off. Right?” You direct your last words at Ben, giving him a pointed agree with me or I’m knocking you out and leaving you here look.

“Yeah, whatever. But I’m not staying in the fucking van like a pussy. And you’d better explain what the fuck is happening on the way, Sunshine.”

“Deal. But first they,” You narrowed your eyes at Butcher. “Have some explaining of their own to do.”

“Don’t lose your bloody mind, Love, it’s all in order.” Butcher said breezily, shoving past you to open the door. He gave a dramatic wave of his arm for you to exit, and with a look of doubt, you did.

The car ride was already poised to be uncomfortable. Butcher’s car was not equipped for seven people, let alone seven people where three were very large men, three were supes, and nobody wanted to have physical contact with two. As such, Butcher drove, MM sat in the front, you found yourself squished against one window with Ben between you and a remarkably uncomfortable Hughie, as Kimiko sat, slightly elevated onto their laps, between Frenchie at the other window, and Hughie. It was overall an unideal situation, made worse as your own frustration was amplified by Ben’s, and by Hughie revealing that it was, in fact, not all in order.

Your phase one, the original operation Quick and Bald had called for Ashley Barrett’s complete cooperation. You’d even painstakingly outlined all the potential ways to flip her—most involving something along the lines of hey, wouldn’t a job that didn’t make you so stressed you rip out all your hair and have to buy a bunch of wigs be nice?—and different ways to keep Homelander from finding out about her betrayal—Spain was lovely this time of year, and had a thriving BDSM community Ashley would love. While MM had managed to take care of your instructions for A-Train, the half of the plan you’d incorrectly anticipated to be more difficult, the Ashley situation was, in Butcher’s words, very fucking delicate, but we’ve adapted and everything will be bloody fine, so trust me and don’t be a fucking cunt about it.

You did not trust him. I didn’t help that you’d asked for any other possible details, and he’d pretended he couldn’t hear you. This suspicion was confirmed when, despite your incredible clarity that you would never step foot there again, Butcher seemed to be driving right to Vought Tower.

Your eyes had been steadily widening, panic starting to run through you the closer and closer you got, and you flinched when you felt Ben’s roughly shoulder nudge your own.

“What’s fucking wrong with you?” He’d asked in a low voice, barely audible over Hughie’s rambling explanation.

“You should listen,” you mutter back, trying to shut out the confusing concern he always seemed to feel at you, how it felt remarkably genuine, but was laced with anger that felt like it was trying to push out of your body. “Hughie’s explaining the plan.”

“Yeah, but all I have to fucking do is stay quiet, and I get to keep my dick. You’re being fucking twitchy and silent, and your heart is beating faster than it has all damn day, so don’t even try to fucking lie and tell me it’s fine.”

“It is fine, I’m fine-“ You paused as his words sank in. “Wait, what do you mean my heart-“

“Alright, here we go.” Butcher cut off both you and Hughie with a clap of his hands. “Everyone bloody out, let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

“Butcher,” you said, looking around to see you’d parked directly across from the tower entrance. “What the fuck are we doing here?”

“We’re meeting them right there.” MM answered for Butcher, pointing out of his window to something you couldn’t see. “It’s almost midnight, and Annie’s been making sure nobody gets inside but us.”

“But why?” You protest, even as MM leaves the car. “This,” you give a wide, general wave that hits Ben in the nose. “Cannot be the only option.”

“Both of them still have their trackers,” Hughie leans forward with an apologetic look as Frenchie and Kimiko exit the car. “This will look like they’re just getting a midnight snack, and hopefully Homelander won’t get suspicious.”

“Hopefully?!” You feel a rush of anger—not yours—and a twist of fear deep within your gut—absolutely yours. “Hopefully fucking Homelander won’t get suspicious?!”

Hughie gave an uncertain nod before very quickly scrambling to get out of the car. You take a long, deep breath, trying to steel yourself. A rush of what was becoming a familiar fuming and brittle concern ran through you. You look at Ben, to find his eyes locked firmly onto yours.

“Sorry about hitting-“

“I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You blink at him, taken aback by the firmness of his voice. “What?”

His hand moved to grip your thigh, his gaze not wavering. “I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You give him a flat look. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. Why are you telling me that?”

His frustration leaked into you. “Because say the word, I’ll steal Butcher’s car, and we’ll fucking leave.”

“What? Are you insane?”

“You look like you’re either going to start fucking crying or burst into flames, and this is a stupid fucking idea.”

“This was my plan.” You snap. “And I’m not stealing Butcher’s car. Why do you even know how to hot-wire a car anyway?”

Ben’s grip tightened. “No, your plan was stupidly well fucking thought out.”

“That’s an oxymoron.” You mutter, and he ignores you.

“And even if they haven’t completely fucking blown the execution, they completely squashed any chance of safety.”

“It’ll be fine,” you say, the words sounding fake even as you say them. “It’s late. He’s probably asleep.”

“What if he’s not?” His concern was starting to move to your throat, and there was something else, something sitting far deeper in your chest, beating and beating against you. Against you.

“Ben.” You place your hand over his. “I’ve worked too hard on this. This is the only way, and it will be fine.” You say the last words firmly and clearly, trying to make them sink into you. “Now take your fucking hand off of me, and get out of the damn car.”

He pulls himself from you, and even as his touch leaves, the concern and beat linger until he’s gone from the car. You drag yourself across the seats and ignore Hughie’s offer of a hand as you duck out of the car and onto the curb. You notice the 24 hour diner MM must have been pointing out almost immediately, half because—aside from an incredibly sketchy looking deli a few doors down—it’s the only building with its lights still on, and half because two very flustered teenagers are sulking away from the entrance, where Annie stands with her arms crossed. She’s already spotted your group, and has angeled her head in a signal to join her.

“You’re late.” She chides as you approach.

“Well, Starlight, I’d apologize, but it was those two fuckheads,” Ben and MM both receive a jabbed thumb over Butcher’s shoulder. “Who decided to draw out the bloody carpool process.”

“I told you not to call me Starlight anymore, Butcher.” Annie snaps, not giving him a chance to respond before she turns to you. “A-Train is, somehow, running behind as well. Hopefully Ashley’s just being resistant to getting food with him, but they’ll be here.”

“Isn’t running that pussy’s whole fucking thing?” Ben muttered, quiet enough for only you to hear. You step as hard as you can on his foot.

“Shut it, Pretty Boy.” You whisper over his grunt of what probably is more emotional pain than physical.

“Bitch.” He hisses back.

“Cunt.” You raise your voice so the others can hear you. “We should go inside, it’s risky to just… stand here.”

With nervous looks around and stuttered agreements, you all make your way into the diner. The lights are flickering, and it’s eerily empty with only a very nervous-looking blonde waitress at the counter. She makes a very big show of asking how many are in your party, leading you to a large, round table, and laying out the menus with shaky hands. Kimiko, Hughie, Annie, and MM try and offer her comforting smiles, though MM’s is strained as he keeps a vigilant glare on Ben. The waitress is staring at Ben herself, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, glacing back as she leaves to get your and Butcher’s coffee, Annie and MM’s tea, Kimiko and Hughie’s milkshakes, and Ben and Frenchie’s orders of “the strongest alcohol you’ve fucking got.” Your personal bet was it was going to just be very old beer.

“Why is she fucking staring at me?” Ben muttered to you, watching the waitress as she walked away. “Did you fuck up my beard that bad?”

“Your beard looks literally the same.” You dismiss. “And it’s because, as far as the public knows, Maeve killed you in a heroic act of self-sacrifice to stop your evil, anti-American attacks. That, or she wants to fuck you.”

“Hm,” he looks back at you, settling down into his seat. “Am I allowed to bring guests into the safe house?”

“No.” You say, a little more curtly than you intended. Seeing his wide, cocky grin, you clairfy. “It’s a breach of security. She would need to pass a CIA vetting and be approved by, like, twenty people. I don’t think she’d do that just to fuck you.”

Ben shrugs, his smirk only growing. “You did.”

“I’m going to cut off your balls and feed them to you-“

“Hey,” MM cuts you off, saying your name in a brisk, hard tone from across the table. “They’re here.”

You snap your head to the door, where A-Train is practically pushing Ashley into the diner.

You hear her voice clearly over the recession pop humming from the speakers. “Why can’t we just go to the fucking deli? They make these amazing meatball subs and supes eat free, so you could order for both of us- oh fuck no.”

“Oh, shit.” MM mutters, jumping to his feet with Butcher and Annie as Ashley notices them, and promptly tries to dash for the exit.

You don’t entirely blame her. You’d probably do the same. You had done the same, an unhelpful voice reminds you.

“I- Am- Not-“ Ashley is trying to get past A-Train, who hasn’t given up trying to herd her further into the diner. “Fuck- this-“

“Ashley, just listen to them, I fucking swear-“

“Why should I trust you?!” Ashley doubles over, out of breath. “You fucking tricked me! Midnight snack my fucking ass- Fuck no!” She raises a crooked finger at Annie, who has stopped in front of her. “Get the fuck away from me, you bitch.”

“Ashley, please listen to A-Train-“

“No! Just leave me the fuck alone! I don’t want to be a part of your weird fucking eye for an eye justice shit-“

“You kind of already are.” MM says as he locks the door behind her. “You work for Vought, your it’s motherfucking CEO. That makes you a part of this, like it or not.”

“Not!” Ashley shouts. “I don’t care what you have to say! Homelander’s going to fucking kill me, oh my god.” She starts to hyperventilate. “If he finds out I was here, he’ll kill you-“ She points a shaky finger at A-Train. “And then make me go on fucking TV to explain why you’re missing, and then fucking kill me-“

Butcher scoffs. “Bloody hell, lady. Calm the fuck down, Homelander ain’t gonna find out.”

“You don’t know that!” She shrieked. “He knows fucking everything! Especially since fucking Sage joined!” She spins around frantically, and her wild eyes lock onto yours. “He knows about them!” A shaking finger jumps between you and Ben. “Fuck! He’s supposed to be fucking asleep and now he’s fucking not! And he was so fucking angry about her, I’ve never seen him so fucking angry-“

Whatever else Ashley stutters about Homelander’s anger is lost to you as the world freezes. The feeling isn’t just under your skin, it’s up your spine, in your blood, circling around your brain. It’s fucking everywhere and you can’t fucking breathe, her words looping around you.

He knows. He’s angry. He fucking knows. He’s fucking angry. He fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and he fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and-

A white hot, impossibly calm feeling crashes over you. It’s angry, hungry and angry, but it’s grounding, sharpening everything around you. Suddenly the world is back in complete focus, Ashley’s shrill rambling scraping at your ears, and in the distance that weird fucking rhythm is sounding. As the feeling in your body returns fully, you realize Ben’s hand is back on your thigh. You bounce it, looking up to give him a glare, and find he’s not even looking at you. Instead, his eyes are trained on Ashley, narrowed and cold. You give a small cough, and when he glances down at you, the feeling of anger stutters with something lighter, though only for a second.

You give another bounce of your leg, a look of move your damn hand or lose it taking over your face.

No, not until you calm the fuck down his scowl responds.

You huff, standing abruptly, and his hand falls off at the force of your movement. Suddenly you feel a lot less solid, but reason that your legs are shaky from the Homelander of it all, and if any situation calls for fractured nerves, it’s this one.

“Ashley.” You call across the diner, trying not to stutter or chew off your lip as her protests falters and attention turns to you. “If you know who I am, you know I wouldn’t be anywhere near here if we weren’t certain it was safe. Just have some food with us, listen, and then you can go.”

Ashley gives you a scowl that might surpass Ben’s but nods tightly, yanking her arm from where A-Train had been trying to hold her in place. You sit back down as the group at the door returns to their seats, the poor waitress pressing herself against the bar as they pass. Letting out a shaky, unsteady breath, you try and still yourself as you look out the diner window. City lights. Music.

City lights.

Music.

It was safe. He knows and he’s angry but was safe and there were city lights and music.

Your breathing was no longer coming in short, distressed bursts, but getting air in and out of yourself still felt like an act of labor, and you needed to get it the fuck together before Ashley sat down.

City lights. Music.

You can’t hear the song the diner is playing, instead letting your whole mind turn inward, allowing the ghost of music you can no longer sing to wash over you.

Ashley sits across from you right when you regain control, and from the corner of your eye, you see Ben pulling his hand from where it had been inching towards yours.

Her eyes flit, nerves poorly hidden, from you to Ben to Butcher to Annie and back to you, and her voice is high and shaky when she speaks. “Well?”

“Ashley, we need your help.” Annie leans forward, palms flat on the table.

“Well, then we’re done. I can’t help you. They don’t tell me anything, not really.” Ashley tries to stand, but her arm is caught by A-Train. “Really?” A-Train hisses as he pulls her back into her seat beside him. “They don’t tell you anything my ass, we sit in on all the same meetings. And I pulled these files-“ He pulls out a thumb drive from absolutely nowhere and drops it on the table. “Using your name, so you clearly have access to them.”

“What?!” Ashley looks at the thumb drive like it’s going to either explode or start jizzing on her blouse. “Why would you fucking do that?”

“Insurance.” A-Train answers smugly, the thumbdrive clearly having his intended. “I can’t open it, so you’re going to tell them how, and then I’ll erase the records of you taking the files from the system.”

Ashley looks around at your group, shaking her head. “No.”

“Sorry, Mate. We ain’t really asking.” Butcher leans across A-Train, shoving the thumb drive closer to Ashley. “Do us this solid, and A-Train won’t go right up to Homelander and tell him about how he saw you also cuddly and tight with me, Soldier Boy, and his favorite missing person.”

Your heart jumps right into your throat. City lights. Music.

Suddenly, Ben’s elbow is planted against yours, and you’re pulled back down to earth just in time to hear Ashley yell, “This is fucking blackmail! I’ll fucking sue!”

“You cannot sue government officials, madame.” Frenchie says smugly, and Hughie shakes his head.

“That’s- Frenchie, that’s not even kind of true.”

“You’re also not a government official.” Annie adds.

Frenchie looks genuinely perplexed at this and gives Kimiko a confused frown, receiving a shrug in return.

“But,” you pipe up, your voice somehow bored and casual. “I’m legally dead. He’s-“ You jab Ben in the chest, and Ashley’s eyes widen. “Legally dead and an enemy of the state. You can’t sue either of us, not without admitting some Vought secrets that will be very bad PR.” You give her a twisted smile, leering across the table. “Help us, or, even if Homelander believes you, which we both know he won’t, you’ll get fired. And I’m sure they’ll be very understanding and normal about how they do it.”

You feel a flash of weird pride and realize you can see Ben fighting a smile in your periphery.

Ashley has a fearful expression, looking at where your elbow is still connected with Ben’s. “What- what's even on it?”

“Becca Butcher files.” You say, not taking your gaze from her, but you didn’t need to look around to see the sudden, rigidness with which everyone sat. You even felt Ben’s own shock run through you.

You’d be lying if you said hiding the exact contents of the file hadn’t been a very purposeful choice that you and Butcher had made. He’d cornered you, demanding to know what you planned on doing should Soldier Boy go after Ryan, and you’d told him that it wouldn’t be an issue. Ryan looked up to Homelander, that was why he stayed. He’d lost his mother, he didn’t trust Butcher, all the poor kid had was his insane, sociopathic father. Some part of you—small and sad and tired, still sitting on a staircase in Boston—understood that. But with Becca gone, gone forever, Ryan didn’t have a place to run like you’d had. Homelander was the default, and just kind enough to his son that Ryan could force himself to forgive Homelander again and again. Homelander was safe for Ryan.

You were going to make sure Ryan never saw Homelander as safe again. And that started with Becca Butcher and would end with you. So you and Butcher had agreed with a tight handshaked that he'd ripped his hand from right after, everyone was only going to know what they needed to. That was the only way it would work.

“Becca Butcher files?” MM repeats in a slow, incredulous tone. “You,” he turns with a look of shock to Butcher. “You knew about this? You’re fuckin okay with this?”

“I’m doing what has to be done, Mate.” Butcher answers flatly, then says your name. “Tell ‘em the plan, Love.”

“We need to get Ryan away from Homelander. Ryan needs to know about his mother.”

“No,” Ashley was emerging from the shock to try and stand from the table, but A-Train’s arm shot out, pulling her back down once more. “No,” she says again, looking around desperately. “Ryan, Ryan is all he has. All he cares about. You take Ryan he’ll lose his mind-“

“He’s already lost his mind.” Something snaps in your chest—a cruel feeling waking up as you watch Ashley fret about Homelander. “And I couldn’t give less fucks about what he cares about.” The feeling is crawling across your skin. “If this hurts him, good. It could never hurt him enough to make it right.” You hear drums and still can’t place where they’re coming from. “Now listen to the last fucking strand of your morality on your scalp and fucking help us.”

Ashley shakes her head again, this time with less certainty. “It’s- no- He-“ she pulls in a deep, unsteady breath. “He won’t stop until he gets Ryan back. He already is going insane about you and him and how he needs to get you back safe and put him back down, and if Ryan goes to then nothing will stop him-“

The drums are loud now, and something that’s usually there on Ben’s face is missing. Your own body doesn’t feel entirely normal anymore, but it’s not paralyzed or running. You can feel something in Ben caving, falling inward in a growing rhythm, moving in time as something in you grows. It's not in you now, it’s across you, coating your skin and singing with glee.

“Ashley,” the sound of your voice is a little far away, but you can hear it echo through you. It’s wired, hot, a warning.

“I- I can’t.”

“Yes, you fucking can.” You sneer. “You’re just too much of a pussy to do it.” Ben coughs in the way that you know means he wants to laugh, just as the drums stutter and move farther away.

“Please, I don’t-“

“Do not make me stab you.”

Ashley falters, looking you up and down. “You won’t.”

“Trust me, she will.” Ben smirks, giving you a nudge. “She’s surprisingly violent.”

“I, I won’t. I can’t. He’ll kill me-“

“You think we won’t?” Ben growls, any amusement in him gone as you feel something unbreakable and resolved through your body.

Ashley tries to run again, this time actually managing to get up from the table, but is knocked flat on her ass by A-Train before she can take two steps. You stand and give the itch, now under your tongue and your nails, a small scratch.

“Oh, fuck no.” You hear scrambling as you walk around the table and stop, staring down at Ashley.

She’s crawling back from you, back from the fire curling from your whole body, and disgust curls in your gut. For the first time you feel anger—insatiable and gory anger—all of your own. No city lights flash around you, no hollow music dances around your head. You don’t fear Ashley. She’s weak and spineless. She’s willing to cover her hands in Ryan’s blood, in your blood, to keep herself safe from Homelander. She’s staring at you, terrified, and you don’t need to touch her to know it isn’t even a fraction of all the fear you felt in that white room. That white room she knows about, may have seen, and is still trying to keep Homelander happy.

You bend down, letting all your hatred for Vought, for her, cover your features. When you speak, your words are clear and low.

“You are going to tell Butcher how to access the thumbdrive. A-Train and you are going to take some food with you, and walk back to the tower. You aren’t going to tell Homelander about this, and if he asks, offer him some leftovers. A-Train will erase your activity from the files, and you’re going to pretend the whole night never happened. If you tell Homelander about either me or Be-“ You correct yourself smoothly. “Soldier Boy, the last thing I will do before he locks me away again is kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

Ashley nods frantically, flinching when you raise your hand.

“Say it. Say that I made myself clear.”

“You-“ Ashley stutters, hiccuping. “You made yourself clear.”

You draw yourself back up. “Good. Butcher, I’m leaving. You can drive me and come back, or Ben can steal your car, but I’m leaving.”

When you turn, when you see the looks on your team’s face, all the anger is gone, and suddenly there is a crushing, painful weight of shame on your chest. They’re looking at you like Ashley had been, like you’re no better than Homelander. Like maybe you should go back in the room, it would be safer for them, it would be safer for everyone if you were far, far away-

“You heard the lady.” Ben is standing, walking around to your side. “It’s late. We’re leaving. Sunshine?” He offers you his arm, and you stare between it and your own, still covered in flame. Looking up, his face looks bored, as if this is just another Tuesday, and he offers his arm to women who are actively ablaze on a regular basis.

Your face feels slack, and all you can manage is to blink at him. I’ll burn you, Pretty Boy. It’ll hurt.

His brows subtly knit, and he doesn’t move. I’ll live, Sunshine. Don’t let them see you break. We’re going home.

You look back at your team, a wide circle of berth having formed around you and Ben. Butcher is looking between the two of you, and you recognize that glint in his eyes. You’d seen it before, but it’s only been really, truly directed at you once. In a graveyard in Boston, gravestones and bushes around you burning in the dead of winter, holding a bucket of ice that steamed off your skin. Under it, fear begins to creep back into you, exhaustion pushing it forward. Butcher reaches behind him, and your knees feel weak.

But you don’t fall. Zealous anger, strong and raw, spreads through you and Butcher’s movements still. You look down and find Ben’s arm unflinchingly looped through yours, his body at its full height as his eyes rake coldly over Butcher.

The silence hangs in the air, cut through only by Ashley’s quick, sobbed breaths. For a second you think the smoke seeping from you will overtake the room before anyone moves, but Butcher slowly reaches into his pockets, eyes not leaving Ben’s, and throws the keys at Hughie.

“Drop them off, Mate, then come right back. No bloody detours.”

Hughie stares at the keys, looking like he’s going to protest, but Kimiko grabs them before he can.

She turns to you, completely composed, no fear wavering as she locks your eyes with hers. I’ll take you.

Before you can thank her, Frenchie steps forward, signing as he speaks. “Mon Coeur, you cannot drive.”

She frowns. Yes I can.

“No, Mon Coeur, not legally.” Frenchie says, exasperated, and you have a feeling this is not first time they've had this debate.

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you. Fine. She signs back at Frenchie, throwing the keys at him. You’ll do it.

Frenchie stumbles as he catches them, giving Kimiko a shocked look, which she pretends not to see as she walks to the door, signing at you as she passes.

Let’s go before Butcher’s brain starts working.

A small smile threatens your face, and you move, tugging Ben’s arm only once before he falls into pace with you, Frenchie scrambling behind you both.

The car ride back feels longer. The moment you’d stepped out of the diner, your body had extinguished, and you had a worrying sense that the only thing keeping you from collapsing on the sidewalk was Ben’s arm firm through yours. No words were said for the entirety of the drive, you and Ben in the backseat as Frenchie drove and Kimiko lounged in shotgun, and your brain raced. Ben hadn’t let go, and the drums were fading in and out of your chest as he stared ahead into the night.

You arrived at the safe house, only a street lamp casting a dull glow across the street. The chill of the wind cutting against you as Kimiko walked you to the door, Frenchie mumbling something about keeping the car safe from Hooligans. Ben made to step inside, but halted, still not releasing your arm, as you stayed at the doorstep.

At his questioning glare, you tried to wiggle his arm from yours. “Go inside, Ben. I’ll be right there.”

He looked down at where he was still connected with you, and you felt reluctance in time with the drums, but he let go with a scowl. “Be fast,” he grunted, and stomped into the house.

You watched until he’d disappeared fully down the hall, turning to Kimiko only once his back was shrouded in the darkness of the house.

“Thank you,” you give her a soft smile, signing as you speak. “I- I don’t know what happened, I just-“

She shakes her head, and you trail off. I understand. I get angry too. She pauses, hands hovering for only a second. We are not like them. She points down the street, in the direction of the tower, and then past you, into the house. We get to be angry.

“I don’t want to be angry.” You say softly. “He wins when I get angry.”

Kimiko gives you a sad look, placing a hand on your arm. Her own frustration, her fear of Homelander, all the anger at the world, sinks into you. She holds your gaze for a second before drawing back to sign once more. He doesn’t win when you’re angry. He wins when you’re scared. You’re not Soldier Boy. Your anger is good.

You glance back into the house. “I think he- Ben- Soldier Boy- is scared. Or something. His emotions are really fucking confusing.”

You let him touch you. She signs. Does he know?

“He said he didn’t care, because he’s, and I quote, ‘not a pussy with something to hide’.”

But he’s scared? She gives you a questioning frown. Do you think it’s because of Russia? Could you fix it, like you offered for me?

“I’m not sure, but-“ you’re cut off as Frenchie honks the horn, leaning out the window.

“Mon Coeur!” His odd position makes his signing almost unintelligible, which he seems to realize, and raises his voice. “Monsieur Butcher says to get back ‘like a hare with a bomb up it’s arse'.”

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you, but signs a goodbye, giving your hand a small squeeze before returning to the car. As the engine rumbles, Frenchie pulling out the driveway, Kimiko’s calm faith lingers in you, and you walk back into the house, shutting the door behind you.

Almost all the lamps and ceiling lights of the house are off, the TV glowing from where you had abandoned it several hours ago. From the bottom of the stairs, you can see the upstairs hall is washed in a soft yellow, and when you reach the top Ben’s door is open, the light from within filling the hall. You stop at the entrance to his room, his back to you as he pulls a cotton shirt over his head.

You let out a small cough in a weak attempt to alert him to your presence.

“You’re allowed to just come in, Sunshine.” He grunts, still facing away. “I’m not a shy little virgin you need to pussyfoot around.”

You let out a small hum, walking over the threshold and stopping a few feet behind him. “Thank you.” You say softly, and he turns around to look at you.

His eyes are tired. Pained. Something looks like it’s pulling at him and it scares you. You’ve seen that expression before, when you’d woken him up that first day, at the Neuman mission, when you pulled him from nightmares with sharp hits, but never just there. It was always with something. This was like an island, just him and you, nothing pulling it out of him.

“Don’t thank me.” He says gruffly. Even his voice is drained. “You mostly held your own.”

“But-“

“And stop feeling bad about that Ashley bitch. She fucking deserved it.”

You stare at him. “You really believe that?”

He lets out a hollow laugh. “She was fucking pathetic. A fucking pussy. Fucking eating out Homelander’s fucking hand, brown-nosing him until he fucking cums and pays her, letting him take you-“ His jaw clenches. “I fucking meant it when I said we’re not going back Sunshine. I’m not a goddamn pussy liar.”

“I didn’t think you were. But, you…” Your voice fades as you try to find the words. “I could feel you. At the diner.”

“I fucking know, that was the goddamn point. I wasn’t going to let you start crying in front of those self-righteous pussies.”

“No, Ben.” You shake your head. “I could feel you. I could feel it.” You place a hand over your chest. “It was building. There was something beating against you, inside you. And you looked…” You watch him carefully. “Scared.”

“Fucking watch it.” He growls. “I don’t get fucking scared. I’m not-“

“A fucking pussy. I know.” You sigh. “I don’t want to, I can’t, fight right now. I’m so fucking tired. You can scream at me in the morning, but not right now, please.”

He stares at you, and just when you think he’s going to start yelling, he nods. “You’re…” He sounds strange. “You’re ok.”

Just like the last time he said it, the words aren’t phrased like a question. They don’t feel like a question. It feels like he’s just telling you again. But there’s something under it this time, something that makes his words almost unsure. Something that makes up your mind faster than you thought you would.

“Are you?” You ask quietly.

“Of course I fucking am.”

“Ben.” You tilt your head at him. “I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to respond now.”

“You’re being fucking weird, Sunshine.”

“Please.”

He relents with a grunt. “Fucking fine. What.”

“I can fix it.” It’s so hard to keep his gaze as you speak. “It will take time, but I can fix it.”

“Fix what.” He scowls. “There’s nothing to fucking fix.”

“Your PTSD.”

“I don’t fucking have-“

“Ben, I could feel it. It’s dangerous. I could fix it.” You take a deep breath. “I can fix internal injuries as well. I offered to fix Kimiko’s muteness, but she didn’t want me to do it.”

“Then what fucking makes you think-“

“Muteness isn’t dangerous. And it would’ve been harder for me, I might have ended up mute myself. You’re dangerous like this. You can’t fucking control it, and don’t try and lie and say it’s under control. Ashley mentioned putting you back under, and you looked like someone was drowning you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine.” He leers at you. “You don’t fucking know me, know what it was like-“

“I do. You know I do.” You whisper, and the anger on his face breaks. “More than anyone else, I know. I can fix it, but you’ll have to let me. Just-“ You search his eyes, not sure what you’re looking for. “Just think about it. I won’t mention it again, I won’t even touch you, but my offer will stay on the table. Please, just think about it.”

Before you can leave, he grabs your hand. A rush of painful exhaustion runs through you, and there’s anger, but it’s not full of the fervor you’ve come to expect from him. It’s not even at you. It’s wide and almost consuming, leaving room for only a small kernel of something fragile and warm.

“I don’t care if you keep touching me, Sunshine. I've go nothing to hide from you, and that’s not going to change. But there’s nothing in me you need to fucking fix, so don’t fucking bother.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Ben,” You murmur. "But remember, you burn, I burn. Please don't burn." Your last words are soft, and the kernel pulses.

“Good,” he grunts, releasing your arm. A small smirk crawls onto his face. “Now I don’t care if it’s here or in your room, Sunshine, but you need to go the fuck to bed. You look like shit.”

Just as he says it, the full weight of your fatigue hits you. You give a mumbled acknowledgement of his words, and try to leave the room, but all the adrenaline is gone from your system and nothing is left to stop the failure of your legs or droop of your eyes. The last thing you feel is something pulling you up before your knees hit the carpet, the last thing you see is green eyes on your own, and you hear an amused snort from above you.

“Goodnight, Sunshine. Try not to dream about me.”

You try to object, but sleep pulls you under before you can even remember why you need to.

[obsessive-evie]

you’re pretty is all

pairing: Kate Martin + fem!oc

word count: 3.2k

warnings: smut, explicit language

“I-, I can’t, please, I can’t, you can’t keep doing this to me,” Kate pants into my mouth, a blushing smile on her face, clearly embarrassed at the needy tone her own voice took on.

You see, we have recently discovered that Kate cannot handle praise. At. All.

It happened one day on accident, I was just going to one of her games like normal, a pretty rough game against South Carolina I must admit, but Iowa pulled through, Kate being the highest scorer instead of Caitlin for once. She had jogged over to where I was leaning against the walls of the stadium bleachers, a wide smile on her face the moment she noticed where I was. She had barely finished talking to the media, still dodging reporters with cameras on her way over to me.

I immediately wrapped my arms around her head of course, standing on my tiptoes to kiss the side of her head. Her head was buried in my neck, her heavy breathing and warm body pressed against my own. “You did so good baby, oh my god,” I said in her ear before pulling away, my hands still on her neck. Her face now held a different kind of look in her eye. What once was pink from the exertion of the game was now speckled darker with with red, her eyes holding a look of almost uncertainty in them. She opens her mouth like she’s going to speak, but nothing comes out.

She looks bashful, almost shocked, as she keeps trying to form words through her smile. A few laughs escape instead, so she breaks eye contact, and pulls me back into her arms, hiding her face in my neck.

I don’t bring it up until later, taking it as she was just overwhelmed in the post-win high.

But the more I thought about it, the more my brain needed to know why she looked so, flustered? Now I had had my theories about her liking praise, the few times I was more in control featuring a heavy adoration note, and less than a possessive or rough route, but I wanted to test my theory.

“I’m serious i’m so proud of you Kate, you played so well,” I say in the passenger seat of her car as she drives us back to her apartment, her hand in mine on the center console. We’re stopped at a long red, the large Iowa intersections taking far too long in any other circumstance, but i’m thankful for it now as I get to watch her head duck down in an attempt at hiding while a large smile plays on her face, one she’s clearly trying to hide. Her face flushes red again, and that’s when I knew I was on the right track.

Throughout the course of the next few days, I continued to shower my girlfriend with excess praise and compliments, relishing in every blush, smile, giggle, and hidden face. Everything from playing with her freshly washed hair while we talked about the game later that night, making her shift herself from laying on my chest to her kissing my neck to hide her red face when I started to delve into her high score. Not just that, but when she aced a math test a few days later, I went above and beyond in telling her how proud I was (she ended up telling me to shut up with a red face and half hidden smile, her large hand coming to cover half of her face).

The first time I called her pretty girl, I knew damn well what I was doing.

I was sitting on the bathroom counter as she curled her hair, just admiring her beauty and features. She was focused on not burning herself, but when she put the iron down and caught my eyes, she smiled, a puzzled look on her face. “What?” she asked while moving closer, her hands coming to my thighs, rubbing up and down my leggings as she laughed slightly. I shook my head, not wanting to admit anything yet, so naturally she moved closer, leaning into my personal space.

I shake my head while laughing, moving myself to kiss her lips with smiles on our faces. I break the gentle kiss to say, “My pretty girl.” Her reaction is immediate, her face flushes pink high on her cheekbones and ears, she tries to hold back an even larger smile which causes her nose to twitch slightly too. My hands cradle her jaw on each side before she plants her forehead on my chest, me sitting on the counter being one of the few positions she can do so.

I can feel her breathing slightly pick up, making me laugh again. She shakes her head in my chest with a small groan before picking it up, and moving back over to where she was standing, holding back a smile and a red face.

So it does work.

My plan was to see how long it would take for her to crack, or melt, either one worked for me. So when the day came where I was fed up with her being so stupidly strong willed, I decided to bombard her all day long.

I kissed every inch of her face when we woke up that morning, telling her how beautiful she is, even throwing in a my beautiful girl before getting out of bed to shower (she asked to join, but I don’t think I could handle seeing her naked and not get on my knees, which would ruin my whole plan).

I even hyped her up a little more the usual when we got ready to go out to dinner. When I would usually just call her my hot girlfriend and poke her biceps or abs, I made show of saying how good she looked, even throwing in a wolf whistle for good measure to get that pretty blush I adored. Now don’t get me wrong, she did look damn good, but it was a little exaggerated when she walked out in a gray tank and jeans, her hair up in a high ponytail with a dusting of makeup on her face highlighting her natural features.

I got the blush that I wanted, as well as an eye roll as she deflected by kissing me on the lips.

It was only after we had a few drinks at a nice italian restaurant that she even acknowledged my praises.

I had called her “so fuckin pretty” after taking some photos of her at our secluded table, to which she responded, “I can’t with you, you know that?” with an eye roll. “I just love my incredibly hot girlfriend, and I wanna tell her, what’s so wrong with that?” I replied. She just shook her head and said, “You’re so down bad for me.” Of course I nodded my head enthusiastically and took more photos.

By the time we were home on the couch, still in our going out clothes and makeup, I was determined to make her crack.

I was seated straddling her lap, her hands unbashfully on my ass and hips (a personal fav of hers as she put it), while mine were moving between her jaw and neck, not deciding which one I liked better. My tongue was in her mouth when my hand just barely squeezed her neck, not choking or anything, but enough for her to moan out in surprise. She pulled away for air, her face flushed and lips bitten a dark shade of pink. God she really was pretty.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whispered before going back in for more kisses. Her hands now gripped my hips harder, pulling me down onto her thigh, causing pleasure to shoot up into me. She did it again at the same time she pushed her thigh up, the thought of the strong muscle beneath me only adding to my pleasure. This time i’m the one that pulls away to say, “God you’re so good to me, you’re so fucking pretty baby,” while smiling. Hopefully this is the fatal blow that will make her crack.

I’m right.

“I-, I can’t, please, I can’t, you can’t keep doing this to me,” Kate pants into my mouth, a blushing smile on her face, clearly embarrassed at the needy tone her own voice took on. Her bright blue-green eyes plead up at me, coercing my body and soul into her. I stay quiet, hoping to urge her to fill the silence. “I mean it, you have no idea what that does to me I-,” she pauses, taking a deep breath, breaking our eye contact, “I can’t, just-“ I cut her desperate words off with a kiss, needing to feel those pretty lips on mine again. She kisses me back with fervor, gripping my ass and hip impossibly tighter, her hands almost painfully doing so.

Our lips continue to move with a melting passion, each of us letting out occasional moans as we move closer and closer to the fires burning bright in our cores. I break the kiss and a string of warm spit still keeps us connected. I move to kiss her cheek gently, the restraint and stark contrast from the aggressive kissing almost making me shake. Kissing softly down her jawline, stopping just above her ear to whisper, “My pretty baby,” the hand that was resting on her neck squeezing slightly.

Now being possessive wasn’t particularly new for us, Kate liked to show me off and I the same, but we were never directly possessive. So i I guess it caught her off guard when I accentuated the my part.

“Oh my god,” she half says half whines as I smirk, continuing my pursuit of kisses down her neck and onto her exposed collarbones. I manage to get her tank top off, so of course she had to even the score and get me out of my shirt (it was bunched up around my bra anyways). Kissing down her chest, removing the clasp of her bra one handed, pulling her ripped jeans down, those were all easy. But resisting the urge to abandon my teasing and fuck her senseless once I got her in just her underwear was not easy. At all.

I too was stripped down to my shorts and lacy black bralette, my mouth still slowly trailing down her body, gently kissing and biting. My hands explored her hips and thighs the lower I got, the sucking on her chest and nipples making the strong muscles twitch slightly. Every time I pulled away from her warm body to breathe or look at her, I let out a string of praises or minor possessiveness.

The lower I got, the more she squirmed at my words. What would’ve probably only made her blush before this is now making her pant. For example, “God you’re so good baby,” made her let out a particularly desperate moan, her hand coming to the back of my head as I sucked on her nipple.

Something I did know about Kate however, is that she got particularly embarrassed when I went down on her. She had a habit of covering her face with her hands, a pillow, or biting her lips to hold back the moans that only urged me on. She also had a habit of closing her eyes or looking away, especially the more orgasms I gave her, because she had a tendency to cry.

The first time I made her cry in bed, I panicked, thinking something was wrong. It was after a particularly hard loss, a tiring and brutal game against LSU, and I decided she could use an orgasm or two after that. By the time I was getting her closer and closer to her third, I thought that I was crazy when I caught a glimpse of shiny eyes before she covered them with the crook of her elbow again. Amping her up for her fourth however, was when I was for sure that her moans were turning into almost sobs. My heart dropped, thinking I had taken it too far. Of course I immediately removed my head from her pussy and cradled her face with my hands, trying to remove her own from her face.

All I had received in return was a rushed out explanation, “No, no, please don’t stop I’m fine I swear just-“ she had said before I cut her off. “Baby you’re crying you’re clearly not fine what’s wrong was it too much? I’m sorry love I-“ this time it was my turn to be cut off.

“No, no this just happens ok I’m fine just I swear to god if you don’t make me cum these tears will be for real,” she choked out, the waterworks of frustration starting back up again. I had kissed her salty lips quickly before giving her a fourth orgasm, watching as the tears flowed freely once I had held her hand down on her hip. Back then I had watched in awe as her pretty face was streaked with tear tracks, trying to test my luck with a fifth orgasm right after her fourth. Unfortunately her sobs became mumbled words of, “No I can’t i c-can’t too much I can’t please I can’t,” while pushing my head away from her dripping cunt.

Now I’m determined to see those rare tears again.

Hopefully my teasing combined with her newfound appreciation for praise would be enough.

I stand corrected.

After sucking on her thighs for too long, Kate had relented and quietly asked me to touch her. I had removed her soaked panties slowly, kissing every inch of her legs they went down. This is when she would typically look away or look for a pillow to hide in, but thanks to our position on our barren couch, she had no choice but to look at me as I made contact with her wet pussy.

I started out slow by circling her clit and pushing a single finger into her, crooking it slightly. “Keep your eyes on me pretty girl,” I said, making her move her hand from shaking by her thigh to holding the back of my head, keeping my tongue on her as she whines.

Throwing out other praises and you’re so pretty darling, or, you look so fucking good like this, so wet baby made Kate only moan and whine louder, her hand coming to cover her mouth. I get minutes into pumping two fingers into her before I notice she’s gone muffled, so I take her hand away from her mouth by her wrist, and hold it onto the couch with my thumb on her pulse point gently.

“C’mon baby let me hear you, I know you can do it,” I say, watching as she tries to keep quiet by biting her lip, tears beginning to form in her eyes. I decide to push her further.

At the same time I curl my fingers up into her g spot, I suck on her clit hard, all while simultaneously pushing on her lower stomach. This makes her let out a loud and whiny moan, stirring things inside me when she tightens her hold on my hair. The tears begin to flow now, almost making me let up on my assault. Almost.

I keep alternating between sucking on her clit and pushing on her stomach, my fingers keeping pace inside her. “Oh my god,” she panted out, the telltale signs of my girlfriend’s incoming orgasm starting as her breathing picks up. I keep going, never relenting, even when her strong hips try to lift up off the couch, forcing me to wrap my arms around her hips and thighs, pinning her in place.

I take a small breather to say, “you’re close baby, I know it, why don’t you cum for me yeah? god you’re doing so well love.” She throws her head back and whines, a high and needy thing that makes me speed up my hand, even though my wrist is starting to cramp.

Her breathing deepens, sobs worsen, thick hot tears rolling down her cheeks as her strong thighs clamp around my head. Pushing on her lower stomach always seems to do the trick, something about external g spot stimulation? Either way, she’s coming on my tongue with my name in her mouth, combined with many other things I can’t hear because of her thighs over my ears.

Her whole body shakes and twitches, her hips lifting in an arch, her hand holds my hair almost painfully tight to her cunt, not like I was leaving anyways. Her heavy breathing doesn’t slow as I push through what I think is the longest orgasm I’ve ever given her. And trust me, giving head was considered one of my special skills. Wonder if I could put THAT on a job resume?

I slow my fingers inside of her, as well as the lapping of my tongue when I think i’ve stretched that out as long as I could. Her eyes are closed now, breathing slowing, her thighs loosened around my head, allowing me to pull away for air. I slowly remove my fingers from her cunt, causing her hips to twitch again, making me laugh. I suck her excess slick off my fingers, relishing in the way she tastes. Maybe I’m smug, but the fucked out look on my girlfriend’s face as she opens her eyes is totally deserving of a mini victory lap.

I stand up from my position on the floor, my knees cracking on the way up from the way I was kneeling. I kiss my way up her hips and stomach gently, small pecks up her warm body, making my way to her face. The tear stained face I kiss every inch of, something I had started after the first time she cried, a mix of guilt and tenderness I felt for her compelling me to do so. When I finally reach her lips, I swipe my thumb under her eyes, cleaning off any more salty tears or cum. Unfortunately for Kate, going from eating pussy to kissing cheeks means mixing of bodily fluids.

A self confident smile on my face, I kiss my girl on the lips finally, her once limp mouth curving up into a small smile. I pull away, taking in her disbelieving expression. “Where the hell did that come from?” she asks, shaking her head slightly against my lips. “You’re pretty,” is all I say in response.

[whatt-the]

Gift for @uno-san

College Stanford x milf reader

Content warnings: age gap obviously, stanford is a warning because I am tired of people pretending he isn't odd as hell, fem reader

Author's note: this takes place in an AU where Stanley never ruined ford's project and he got into his dream college. He is taken under the wing of an esteemed scientist, shenanigans (cheating on ur husband in a loveless marriage) ensue.

devious devious art about this coming soon! Both targeted and about the ambiguous "reader".

This is also only part 1 and there will definetly be more to come

Imagine how Stanford felt when first being invited to his mentor's house, after a particularly lengthy discussion on whatever topic the lecture his mentor gave happened to be about. I can imagine all sorts of emotions running through his mind... anxiety, excitement, a bit of shock- he knew he was smart, but he never thought his theories were reasonable enough to challenge his mentor's views: you see, he really idolized that man. Continuing their discussions would be an honor, and the mere mention of publishing multiple papers with him had stanford's mind racing, he could barely contain his joy!

Now, understand that he had plans for the unexpected visit: he'd prove his worth, his technical prowess, anything to get more of that sweet, sweet approval. We both know he didn't have much of that in his youth, neither did he get much of it now... it seems he is always the single oddest character in any given room, even amongst other well educated, motivated students. "Teacher's pet", "tryhard", he couldn't believe it at first- such childish insults at such an esteemed institution? He thought those got left behind in high school. How innocent he is. Regardless:

His plans were to prove himself.

Well, like I said, were.

Right now? His mind couldn't be further from his studies.

He'd made it to the house alongside the professor, the discussion now spanning multiple topics- he was having fun. Rare, considering any of his other interactions with quite literally anyone else.

(Truly the outcomes are deplorable. His social skills are lacking to an astronomical degree, to the point where it is borderline comical how little he knows about human interaction. It is a cliché, the nerd who doesn't know how to socialize, but it wouldn't be so popular of a trope if it didn't often get reflected in reality. Not like he knew it was very popular to begin with: even the claim that he learned to interact with others through books would be false, since he strayed from any sort of romantic narrative. It was out of a feeling of inadequacy, really.)

Then, the door was opened.

And that's when he met you for the first time.

"You! You're Stanford right? I've heard good things from my husband here-"

"Come on, don't flatter the kid yet." Your husband spoke with a chuckle

"Hey! He deserves to hear how good he's doing! Come here." You walked forward and hugged him, it was your way of greeting people. It was warmer and more welcoming- both things the world lacked severely.

(Stanford found himself paralyzed where he stood for a few moments. He'd already found your personality endearing -your appearence even moreso-, and now you're pressed up against him? He simply must be dreaming. You felt so soft against him-- heavens, how long had it been since he'd received a hug? Far too long, clearly, but he doesn't remember them ever feeling this good)

The societal pressure to reply to this action in some way caught up to him fast, however. He was quick to place a hand on your waist, his range of motion being limited from your arms wrapping around his own. He may experience the social pressure, but he really has no clue what's appropriate and what isn't, huh? Cute.

(Had he a modicum of self control, he'd most definetly have had a much more timely and well adjusted response to your touch, but amidst the smell of your perfume, your soft arms around him, your hair tickling against his face, the feeling of your hands on his back... nothing carried the same weight as your presence did, who could blame him for doing what his mind instructed him to do and touch you back somehow? He'll come to find that he will blame himself very much for this interaction. No one more judgemental on his behaviors than the one responsible for them)

Once you pulled back from him, you were quick to usher them inside and offer them snacks, reasoning that they'd deserved something nice after studying and debating so much on so many topics. Your husband eagerly agreed and impatiently waited for your food through busying himself by unearthing blueprints and all sorts of different research papers so there would be grounds for his and ford's endless theorizing.

And thus, as you left, Stanford was left with his own thoughts. He made note of the fact that those very same thoughts were entirely consumed by you: how you dressed, how you looked, how soft your hair was, how lovely your voice sounded; all things that brought him much joy to think about, but equal parts of shame. He didn't necessarily want to have any such invasive thoughts about his professor's wife, yet there he is, with his thoughts growing more wretched by the minute. It's almost like his brain was against him: guiding thoughts that had him blushing at the very visage into his mind's eye. He wanted your hands on his back again- he wanted you to drag your nails across it-- he wanted to feel your lips on his, he wanted to feel your breath grow shaky against him--

"Here it is!! Sorry for the wait"

Papers getting dropped on the table and a thankful sigh were the next things he heard. His professor turned to him, instructing him to sit at the table, since "if you don't come quick, there won't be any left for you!"

Your food was great, simply regarded as the usual to your husband, but seen as the world's 8th wonder by Stanford. When asked if he was enjoying the food, he quickly assured you that he was absolutely enjoying it, making sure to remark that it is "the best thing he's had since he entered college", which was not at all a lie, considering he was surviving off of microwaved cup noodles and the occasional granola bar- but even he knew that was too pathetic for him to mention at all.

Your husband and Stanford made quick work of the snacks and promptly got back to... spewing big pompous words and numbers at eachother... at least it seems they were having fun, considering they'd laugh toguether on occasion. That must be a good sign? You weren't entirely sure what was happening with those 2, and you took to not interrupting them in lest you break their chain of thought.

The afternoon went by in the blink of an eye to them. Discussions on various theories followed by reading research papers followed by sketching on blueprints followed by more reading research papers. It was their passion, it seems. However, ford was greatly saddened that it was already so late- he knew full well that if he stayed any longer he'd end up spending the night on your couch, so both him and his professor agreed that it was very much time for him to go back to campus snd consequently to the dorms.

Of course, that wasn't going to happen before he got to say goodbye to you. Even if he was embarrassed to look you in the eye after a full day of... various thoughts about you, he couldn't seem to get enough of your presence. Making his way towards the front door, you were the only one who accompanied him, since your husband was quite busy organizing the mess him and his pupil had created throughout the day.

As you stood at the doorway, you saw yourself growing quite sorrowful that he'd be leaving already, he was quite interesting to you. However, nothing could have prepared neither you nor him for what he did next. He turned around to face you once more, seemingly debating something in his mind for an instant. But, just as quickly as his uncertainty was noticed, it vanished, being replaced by a conviction and fervor he didn't expect from himself -his self control seemed to disappear when he was with you- .Thus, he gently took a hold of your hand and brought it up to his height, kissing the back of it lightly. You could feel your heart skip a beat; you hadn't experienced any such romantic gestures in... god knows how long. As he pulled back, you spoke.

"I-it was... lovely meeting you Stanford." You squeezed his hand as you took a step forward. As soon as he returned your sentiment, he was gone. Though, in the look you both shared during those brief moments, you both knew this wasn't going to be the last time he'd be in this house.

You'd both make sure of it.

Stanford's professor after ford practically begged to go back to his house again: "did you really like her cooking that much?"

Stanford, sweating profusely: "yeah.. her.. . Cooking......"

[wileys-russo]

Lucy bronze and reader are in a secret (not quite) relationship. Reader is Georgia stanways sister and therefore Leah’s honorary sister, and the two have their suspicions you’re seeing someone but won’t tell them. They think it’s Alessia you’re dating because she’s your best friend and the two of you are always together. But you and Lucy get drawn as room mates for camp and maybe there’s a hickey or two that isn’t covered up properly and that’s when the ball drops? And when confronted lucy just is quite casually like “yeah that’s my girlfriend. And?” Shocking reader as well because they’ve never actually talked about it before

girlfriend II l.bronze

"nah i'm telling you g it's gotta be less." "but they're just mates!" "mates who are together all the time. they even live together, no?" "well she said she's inbetween places while she waits to see if her contracts renewed." "georgia...they're dating."

"whose dating?" keira interrupted her best friends, taking a seat at their table and placing down her tray of food, shoving away leah's hand who reached for her packet of crisps.

"y/n and alessia." leah announced matter of factly as georgia hummed, still not completely convinced. "and exactly how have you come to this conclusion?" keira sighed before taking a bite of her banana, staring blankly at the two blondes across from her whose gazes were focused on the other stanway sister sitting across the dining hall.

"well. she's been staring at her phone a lot lately all smiley but a different kind of smiley, then she keeps posting them photos of someone else on her instagram but not tagging them, she dodges our facetimes saying shes out with a friend but won't tell me who-" georgia started to recount as keira hummed, completely unconvinced.

"- and then the other day when we was at our parents place she was clearly on the phone to someone and was dead giggly, but then i walked in and she went all weird and hung up." georgia rolled her eyes.

"and this makes you think she's dating alessia?" keira narrowed her eyes. "no! that's leahs theory. but i know she's datin someone and we're gonna find out who." georgia replied firmly as leah hummed in agreement, keira shaking her head.

"well don't include me in this we, cause this is not gonna end well gee. leave her be! she's got a right to privacy much as you have." keira chastised as georgia merely scoffed.

"not in this family she hasn't."

~

"who ya textin then?" you were quick to turn off your screen as your younger sister collapsed beside you on a beanbag, shoving her away and mumbling about personal space.

"looking awfully chipper there aren’t we my girl." you sighed as leah immediately flopped down on your other side, slipping your phone into your pocket and trying to leave, only to be pulled right back down.

"i was smiling at a tiktok, can i help you both solve any other mysteries holmes and watson?" you huffed, fed up with your sisters consistent prying into your personal life, just trying to enjoy the down time before training this afternoon, all of you currently in camp preparing for the euros squad selection in just a few weeks time.

"yes you can matter of fact. you can help us figure out who you're dating!" georgia beamed as your face dropped and you tried to get up with a huff, leahs hands grabbing at the back of your jumper and tugging you down again as she stretched an arm across your shoulders.

"that's none of your business. lee get off me!" you grunted at leah who effectively held you down into the beanbag. "so you are dating someone then?" georgia gasped, clapping her hands together gleefully as you rolled your eyes.

"i didn't say that. i just said that topic is none of your business!" you warned as your sister waved you off. "yes it is. so whose the lucky lass? or lad? no judgement here!" georgia shrugged as you glared daggers into the side of her head.

"no one. you always do this georgia, i'm sick of it!" you growled and leah sensing you were actually starting to become upset quickly let you go as you shot to your feet.

"you're a nosy little cow and you're always sticking it in my business. my personal life is mine and the more that you, and you, try to pry into that the further i'm gonna ice you both out." you glared at both blondes sitting on the beanbags before storming off, alessia watching from the other side of the room with a concerned frown and hurrying off after you.

"see? told you. dating!" leah pointed it out with a nod, georgia shrugging in somewhat agreeance as keira appeared in front of them with her arms folded and a stern look on her face. "what?" leah frowned as the girl shook her head at them.

"are you happy now? thats clearly upset her and the pair of you aren't even sorry. just leave her be!" was all the brunette warned before walking off again.

~

"she's relentless!" you groaned, head slumping back onto the older girls chest as her hands gently massaged your shoulders whilst you sat inbetween her legs on the bed.

"she's just being your sister, she cares about ya." lucy chuckled, finding the whole situation quite amusing as she tried to ease the mounting tension in your neck.

"i wish she didn't! thank god we got roomed together or else i don't think i'd be able to see you all camp. she's probably paid someone off to follow me round!" you rolled your eyes with another huff, folding your arms over your chest.

"aih grumpy, settle down or you're gonna pull a muscle." you felt her body vibrate with quiet laughter behind you, eased by her thick northern accent as she pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

"easy for you to say. they haven't a clue we're sneaking around so you're off their radar, they think i'm dating less of all people!"

"sneaking around then are we?" "well what else would you call this?" "hey you were the one who told her and leah you're staying with alessia instead of with me, no wonder she thinks you're dating the two of you are practically attached at the hip."

"jealous are we bronzey?" you turned around to give her a teasing grin as the brunette rolled her eyes and shoved your face away, shuffling back on the bed a bit and laying down.

"don't need to be, i'm well aware of everything i do to ya that less certainly couldn't." lucy now smirked as your cheeks tinted pink and you smacked her leg, climbing on top of her as her hands settled on your thighs.

"she could! what would you know anyway?" you grinned as you slowly leant in, much too slow for lucys liking who tugged on the collar of your jumper, pulling you down into a kiss.

"much more than you know kid." lucy sat up and flushed your body closer into hers, lips beginning to attack at your neck as your eyes fluttered close, feeling her large warm hands begin to roam your body.

"your ego needs checking." you chuckled with a small shake of your head, her confidence being one of the things that had attracted you to her the most the night you'd first began this little series of hook ups.

in all honesty you weren't sure what the two of you were, you'd not really had that conversation yet in the month or so you'd been seeing one another, staying with her in manchester while you navigated the impending transfer season.

"there's other parts of me that require checking right now love!" lucy smirked and you squealed as she quickly flipped the two of you, her taller form now hovering over yours as her lips teasingly brushed yours.

her hand slipped up your jumper and pressed you down into the bed as you tried to kiss her, her lips once again attaching to your neck as you pushed your head back into the pillow with a sigh of pleasure.

"you know sarinas rule." you managed to breathe out feeling her nip at your neck, hissing in both pain and pleasure as her tongue traced the mark she just created.

"ay, no sex. but there's plenty we can do that's not that."

~

"nobody better notice, it's bad enough having her on my case for smiling at my phone. once she see's this she's gonna bury me!" you glared at lucy as the two of you exited the room to head down to dinner, tugging your hood over your head as the older girl simply smiled and wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

"incoming!" you braced as you heard an all too familiar voice, a body charging into you from behind and jumping onto your back as you tried to stay on your feet but failed miserably, crashing to the ground and taking georgia with you.

"you're such a dickhead!" you groaned out in pain, shoving her off of you as leah came bounding up behind her, rubbing at your head which had thumped against the ground at the sudden attack.

"excuse me what is that?" leah asked with an accusatory tone, pointing to your neck with a stern glare as you were quick to flip your hair over your shoulder and tug your hood up.

"nothing." you dismissed, trying to get to your feet but crying out as georgias body again slammed into yours, the two of you rolling around on the floor before she eventually sat on top of you and pinned your hands under her knees.

"georgia get off man! this isn't the wwe." you grunted, struggling underneath your younger but seemingly stronger sister who tugged your hood off and gasped at the dark red hickey on your neck.

"who gave you that! where's alessia?" georgia looked around as you rolled your eyes. "probably in her own room. she's my best friend georgia we are not dating, you're deluded!" you dismissed the accusations as leah looked between you, lucy and the hotel room you'd both just come out of, cogs turning in her head before it clicked.

"you!" leah pointed accusingly to the taller brunette, georgia looking around and then putting the pieces together before her jaw dropped and you took the opportunity to shove her off of you, standing quickly to your feet.

"aye, she's my girlfriend. and?" lucy stated quite casually as her arm again slipped over your shoulder and you turned to her with a look of surprise, the shock only hitting leah and georgia further.

"see you at dinner then." lucy smiled, tugging you with her as she headed off toward the elevator, leaving a stunned leah and georgia in her wake as the doors closed behind you.

"girlfriend?" you asked with a surprised smile, the midfielder shrugging calmly. "is this you asking me or telling me?" you took a step away from her and folded your arms over your chest.

"asking, but then again you're only human...so is it even a question?" the girl smiled smugly and you scoffed, smacking at her chest as she pulled your body into hers, trapping you in a tight hug.

"your confidence is nauseating." you fake gagged as she rolled her eyes. "acting like you don't love it." she promptly shut you up with a kiss, pressing your body into the wall beside you before the doors opened and she pushed herself away, offering you a hand as the two of you stepped out, missing your sister come flying out of the fire exit having sprinted down the stairs.

"LUCY COME HERE I'M GONNA KILL YA!"

[alphajocklover]

1,000 Followers Special: Douchebag Revolution, The Revolution Begins

I’ve never claimed to know all the details about the strange things I report on. I know more about the world of transformations than most people, and even most other TF reporters, but I don’t know everything. I don’t know who made InstaJock, I don’t know what about the town of Maxford turns people within it into straight jocks, and I don’t know why wishing on a specific star turns people into jocks, even if it is some sort of magical supernova. Even the Douchebag Revolution, one of the groups I’m on good terms with, has its secrets. As loud, dumb — and if I’m being honest, obnoxious — as the members of the revolution can be, they are surprisingly skilled at keeping secrets. They tend to ‘prank’ me and other reporters with fake info, which makes getting any information out of them like pulling teeth. With a lot of persistence, and a bit of bribery, I have been able to get some interesting info out of them though. Including the true story of how the revolution began. It was told to me by one of my contacts in the revolution, and confirmed by another outside the revolution, so I’m sure it’s true. I won’t be retelling the story word for word, due to some of the… stylistic choices made by the douchebag who told me it, but I’ll do my best to do it justice.

As some of you might remember, the Douchebag Revolution was formed to fight against SAD, the Society Against Douchebags. The mysterious group were using futuristic technology and time travel to transform straight douchebags into gay nerds. That might not sound so bad, especially considering the other stuff I’ve reported on, but messing around with time is dangerous, especially on such a scale. No one, not even the revolution, knows why they go to such lengths, or why they want to get rid of douchebags so badly in the first place. There are theories out there, but even for me they’re a little out there. What is known is that they were transforming douchebags into nerds left and right before the revolution began. From what I understand it actually looked like they were close to getting rid of douchebags entirely for a moment. Until they messed with the wrong guy. Or, I suppose, the wrong brothers.

Despite having a 2 year age difference between them, Chase and Mike Hayfield were practically twins. They had the same hobbies, the same interest, and were even the same height and weight, something the younger Mike would often tease the older Chase about. They were as close as brothers could be, and loved each other dearly. That was why it was a shock to both of them when they realized that their close relationship was never meant to be. Before SAD got involved, Chase was nothing like Mike. Chase was a classic, muscular, douchebag jock, one who basically despised his nerdy fag little brother Mike. Neither brother would have been aware of this… if they hadn’t used Chase’s blood for one of their experiments. SAD’s nanobots, the ones that had changed Chase’s DNA and brain chemistry as he grew, were designed to be invisible to almost all tests. But due to their experiment, and the fact that Chase was one of their earliest victims, Mike was able to discover the nanobots, and use them to get information about SAD. Each brother was horrified, but for completely different reasons. Chase was horrified at the person he was supposedly ‘supposed’ to be. He hated douchebags, and the thought of hating his own brother made him feel sick, made him want to run and hide from the truth they had discovered. Mike, however, was horrified that someone had been manipulating his brother’s life. He believed that no one should be able to manipulate someone's life like that, to change them on such a level without permission or even letting the person know what they had lost. He was scared he’d lose his big brother… but he wanted his big brother to be who he really was. He could see that a part of Chase, a part of him he wasn’t even aware of, missed who he used to be, and he was the one who convinced Chase to take the cure they synthesized. Mike Hayfield, a complete nerd, was the one who started the Douchebag Revolution.

Most douchebags actually get a little pissed when someone brings this up. I mean, they got saved from a bunch of fucking scientist by a ‘nerdy fag.’ But most of them don’t say anything. They don’t want to insult their leader after all. Chase Hayfield may be a huge douchebag, but he never lets anyone insult his little brother.

**Hope you guys like this! I actually had a hard time writing this one, but I'm glad how it turned out. Stay tuned for more!**