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k1ng0fn0b0dy · 2 years

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💜 DAY 2 OF MONSTER WEEK — WEREWOLF TECHNOBLADE

[1500+ words]

[Gender-Neutral]

Description: It's in the title. You wander into a forest and meet a huge wolf, bonding ensues.

[Read the rest under the cut]

You had been adopted a few weeks ago. The couple, Mr and Mrs. Bagans, who adopted you were on the older side, feeling more like grandparents than parents. You didn't mind though, you were too old to have people parent you now.

The town you moved to was on the more rural side. It wasn't small by any means but most of the fields were full of crops with walkable trails to most of the town. In fact, there was even a forest right behind your new backyard, though you'd have to hop the wooden fence.

Of course, like any normal teenager, you hop the fence regularly. It's not really your fault. With the town being as close-knit as it is, you had to go somewhere isolated to get any real free time, without the pressure of ruining your new and tentative relationships within the town.

The forest is full of noise. You can hear all kinds of critters around you, though your personal favorite are the chipmunks. They're very cute and they always give you a wide berth, which is appreciated.

You had liked to think you knew the forest pretty well so far, emphasis on had. You don't know what confidence had overcome you today but you walked farther into the forest than you ever have before. So far, in fact, that you've found yourself lost as the sun starts dipping, casting the forest into a chilling darkness.

Your only comfort was it was still loud. All the critters were awake, so you weren't alone. At this point, you were trying your best to find something familiar, although you weren't quite sure if you were going further into the forest or out of it. Guess you'll find out eventually.

Eventually, the sun really was gone and the forest was quieter. You had to face the truth now, you were lost. Your heart pounded in your chest, as if to fill the void of silence. It was so loud that for a second you didn't realize how quiet everything had gone.

Your breath hitched despite yourself and you pressed yourslef into a tree, waiting to see what had made all the animals flee. Rapidly, something ran towards you. Something big, with heavy footsteps and an imposing shadow.

You were going to die, alone in a forest where no one would ever find your bones. You would never have Mrs. Bagans' deicious apple pie again or go pick up groceries with Mr. Bagans in his old, bruised truck. Immediately, you started crying.

You could care less how snotty your nose had gotten. The only things around were bugs and they woudn't be able to tell your embarrasing last moments if someone did manage to find your body. You were already on the floor by now, sobbing harder now that it had gone silent again. Now you really were alone.

Slowly something walked towards you with obvious, heavy footsteps. You're mid-wiping your tears away when you look up, instantly screaming.

The wolf was about 10x larger than any wolf you've ever seen and didn't instantly pounce when you screamed. Actually, you were pretty sure it had winced.

When you had stopped screaming, though heaven only knows how long that had taken, you were crying again. You felt like a crybaby with how much you've been crying and obviously, the wolf thought so too. it plopped only the forest floor, seemingly bored by your tears.

You didn't wipe away the tears this time, worried that maybe if you looked away, it would attack. it didn't though. You were just both staring at each other, silently.

Now, you wouldn't say you're a nervous talker. Although, in another (more honest) way, you were absolutely a nervous talker. "Hi," Your voice wobbled like you were seconds away from crying (you were). "Mr. Terrifying Wolf, please don't kill me."

The wolf huffed like it was offended at the thought. You nodded like it made any sense at all. "I didn't mean to interrupt you with my crying." Definitely true, although technically it was the reason you were crying in the first place. "You're good to leave, please."

You whispered that last bit under your breath but Mr. Terrifying Wolf definitely heard you. Its lip raised in an almost snarl that fell quickly when you whimpered. "Sorry, I'm sorry. You can leave whenever you want."

"I'm lost right now," You continued, not even taking a breath. You were scared that if you tried, you wouldn't be able to. "I don't know how far from I am from town. I've only been in Fleurrh for two weeks. I don't even know if people will look for me, they hardly know me."

You burry your head in your lap, "I sound crazy right now. Rambling to a wolf because I'm scared I might die. Maybe dying would be easier at this point, I would stop worrying."

It stared at you, emotionless, before slowly standing up. Now that you saw it at its full height, without tears blocking your sight, you could tell it was definitely 10x larger than any regular wolf, maybe even bigger.

You pressed your eyes closed and ducked your head again, trying not to start crying again. it was walking towards you, maybe it finally got hungry again. Maybe you were finally going to die.

A hard, sand-paper-like surface, uncomfortably damp, licked the side of your face. Your eyes popped open on their own, staring, dumbfounded at the large wolf. It stepped back with a very dissatisfied face like your salty, teary face tasted worse than whatever raw mouse it had eaten before this. it stamped its foot down, looking like a particularly upset dog, and stared at you expectantly.

You leaned heavily against the tree you had been sitting at as you stood, slowly. Mr. Terrifying Wolf paws at the ground and you slowly walked toward him. "What's happening right now? Am I really listening to a wolf right now?"

Mr. Terriffying Wolf stared you down and you shut your mouth. He turned away and you muttered, "This is a very bad plan. I'm going to get myself killed." Then, you started following slowly as Mr. Terrifying Wolf leads you deeper (out of?) the forest.

"This is pretty," You mumble as he leads you in a canopy, full of far more light than the rest of the forest. Mr. Terrifying Wolf plops himself down on a bed of grass so you sit down too, a bit too close to them than you'd like.

"It's so cold here," You complain quietly. You were so sure Mr. Terrifying Wolf was already asleep but he peeks over at you lazily, letting you know he was not, in fact, asleep. "Sorry," You murmur, "I guess I didn't prepare for getting lost in the woods today."

Mr. Terrifying wolf huffs, like you were joking. To spite him, you nod, "Honestly, if this had happened on Tuesday, I would've brought my lost-in-the-woods coat and worn my lost-in-the-woods shoes."

You swear that if this wolf had been human, he'd be smiling. Actually, now that you think about it, "You act oddly human."

"I mean," You speed your way through saying, "You didn't hurt me. You understand me. You even brought me here." You look over and stare quietly for a second, he stares back. "You're a lot smarter than most humans..."

Mr Terrifying Wolf closes his eyes and you let the conversation die there. You sigh deeply and turn away, curling into yourself and letting yourself go. As you drift into an uneasy sleep, you can almost feel fur brushing against your chin.

{《☆》}

You wake up warm, hands tangled into soft sheets. Your eyes burn as you sit upright, the sun blinding you. You look around rapidly, seeing no trees, no wolf. Just strong, white walls and the clean white bedsheets you're tangled in.

When someone walks in, you find out that you had been found at the hospital's door easily in the morning. Covered in dirt and fur. Mr. and Mrs. Bagans worried over you the entire week, insisting to take the blame for your own reckless actions. In fact, everyone in the town seemed to be oddly kind to you, though your only guess is that they pity you for getting lost. Quite embarrassing.

It's only two weeks after being found that you manage to get some free time and sneak back into the forest.

You don't wander far, he finds you first. He stomps his feet at you and you smile, feeling that same fearless confidence that got you lost the first time as you walk over, petting his soft fur. "Thank you. You're very kind."

Mr. Terrifying but Nice Wolf huffs but leans into your hands. He pulls away a minute later and disappears into the trees. You wait a moment and a pink-haired man, tall and menacing, steps out of the trees your wolf friend dissapeared into.

"Nice to meet you," You stick your hand out, "I'm Y/N."

Mr. Terrifying but Nice Werewolf huffs, familiar and harmless, and shakes your hand. "Technoblade."

{《☆》}

[WHOOOO DAY TWO OF MONSTER FUCKERS WEEK (ignore that its a few hours late)]

[Anyways, go check out the Prompt List to see who's next. Take care of yourself, charge your phone and drink some water! PEOPLE CARE ABOUT YOUUUU!]

[L0v3, k1ng]

Masterlist

Taglist: @creatorofstars

#x reader #x male reader #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x you #mcyt x male reader #dsmp x male reader #x nonbinary reader #technoblade x gender neutral reader #technoblade x male reader #technoblade x reader #technoblade x y/n #technoblade x you #technoblade x gn reader #technoblade #k1ng's monster fucker week

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thelivingautomaton · 1 year

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so lately i've been curing my brainrot by listening to audiobooks while i crochet, the result being that i have gotten really, really into the wheel of time (which i've previously bounced off of like, 3 separate times) and also been tweeting about it. anyway i have finished the first book and simply must scream into the void about it

jesus, okay, where do i even begin. let's talk about characters

so i KNEW that mat was gonna be The Character Of All Time going right in, i am self-aware enough about what kinds of blorbos i enjoy (read: cocky roguish guy who is actually a sopping wet cat of a man and uses snark to obscure deep-seated angst and/or doubt in himself, his identity, and his goodness). and i do have an affection for mat at this point

although ngl it kind of totally went over my head when i last tried to read these books that he is also? kind of a dick this early on? though to be fair he was having his soul eaten by an evil dagger for like, two-thirds of the book

that being said. what i did NOT expect was for the dark horse surprise contenders for Character Of All Time to be nynaeve and rand

nynaeve is literally the funniest, pettiest bitch ever and i love her SO MUCH. literally what if you were a preternaturally gifted healer and given a position of authority at a very young age so you had a complex about it, but that complex manifests itself as a bullheaded stubborn drive to Take Care Of Your People, and you are ready to throw hands with every magic lady Jedi on the way because you are fueled by Pure Unadulterated Spite at all times

every time she'd try to start a catty slap fight with moiraine and moiraine would just, like, sip her tea unbothered? now THAT'S comedy

sidenote, dear lord do these characters drink a lot of tea. do they have coffee in this nebula. do they have new world crops. i feel like someone must have mentioned potatoes. where was i

oh my god, rand. RAND. literally WHAT IF you were a farmboy from the ass-end of nowhere and you get pulled into this fantastical adventure like a hero from legend, but you spend 700 pages having all of your assumptions about the world and yourself systemically questioned and tested and broken down. and the whole time you're holding onto the hope of going home and going back to the way things were, until you experience the crushing weight of the Hero's Journey and the fact that you can never really go home (read: go back to the simple life and the way things used to be) ever again

EXCEPT!!! THAT THERE IS ALSO WONDER AND EXCITEMENT AND CURIOSITY TOO!!! like, obviously i loved all the times that rand and the other farm kids are agog seeing different parts of the world (especially the cities -- dude, i LOVE the setup for caemlyn) but literally one of my favorite scenes was when rand is on the spray sitting at the top of the mast and he just starts laughing aloud for the freedom and joy of it all. the journey will be long and terrible and arduous but it's so important to show that there are bright moments on the way too. i'm going to puke

also there's a few moments between rand and the dark one (ba'alzamon? bro idk how anything is spelled) that were so *chef's kiss*, like rand telling him "i belong to myself" or in their big fight when he screams that he'll never be a hound for the dark one. more generally i love the emphasis placed on the importance and power of people taking a stand, even if they know it's futile. ESPECIALLY if they know it's futile. (there was this line from moiraine like "the wheel weaves as the wheel wills, but i refuse to believe it weaves an end to all hope". waugh)

also i know the reveal that rand can channel was telegraphed from a mile away but i ain't even mad about it because i feel like the setup was done so nicely. you get a scene of moiraine explaining to nynaeve about how channeling feels the first time you do it (i.e. you have the greatest need you've ever known, then a week later your body has a delayed reaction that feels like a weird flu), you get rand and mat escaping whitebridge via improbable lightning strikes, then you get rand coming down with a weird flu. like, idk, i like it when creators set up dominoes and i as a reader can SEE the dominoes getting set up and i get to go like, hoohoohoo, can't wait for those to get knocked down!

unsurprisingly since rand and nynaeve are my two favs i also am enamored with their dynamic. maybe it's because you're in rand's head the most in this book, and so it's the closest you as a reader are to seeing a straightforward platonic relationship between a male and female character? but okay like, listen. nynaeve is the FIRST PERSON (maybe the only person rn??) rand shares his fears with re: tam not being his dad and him not knowing who he is. and nynaeve immediately reassures him that it doesn't matter, she saw tam and kari with him and she KNOWS they loved him like any father and mother

or like, the scene when rand overhears lan and nynaeve having their whole Dramatic Star-Crossed Romance (which is like, cool, but also, can't wait for lan to get over his TTRPG Tragic Backstory [affectionate] and kiss her already), and the chapter ends with a line like "Rand closed his eyes. He did not think the Wisdom would like it if he saw her cry." good GOD!

how old are these kids supposed to be anyway. like i know nynaeve is older by a few years and she's...24? so are the rest 18-20ish? oh my god you guys, they're KIDS

i'm sure i will have more thoughts about the other characters as these books progress and shit continues to pop off and Get Funky (especially relevant vis a vis perrin going full wolf mode and egwene learning how to be an aes sedai). also i love how often it's repeated that people from the two rivers are The Most Stubborn People Alive, and how rand holds onto that as part of his identity (re: envisioning hardy two rivers soil)

now let us talk about the world because OH MY GOD

one of the things that definitely stuck with me was the secret hidden lore re: "this is actually post-post-post apocalyptic earth", cf. thom telling stories about "lenn flying to the skies in an eagle made of fire" and "salya walking among the stars", because it is so fucking insane as a concept and jordan does it REALLY WELL, in the sense that any references to "our" earth are so oblique and indirect that they're barely comprehensible, which is as it should be if these books take place a whole two ages later

but it's also such a perfect excuse/reason to deliberately echo and make homage to myths and stories that we as readers are familiar with, the most obvious being the legend of artur hawkwing (and also half of our main cast having arthurian-esque names). something something george lucas saying that it's like poetry, it rhymes

the part that really dropped me flat on my ass though was when perrin and egwene and elyas are leaving the tinkers and elyas LITERALLY recites anglican catechism at them ("as it once was, so shall it ever be, world without end"), reader i screamed

that being said. i do kind of wish there was more Weird Religion Bullshit. i mean it makes sense that the cosmology and people's theological beliefs are pretty universal (given that it's a Canonical Big Deal Historical Event that the embodiment of evil punched a hole in reality and made magic evil and fucked up for men forever), but like. where is the variety! where is the spice! where are the religious freaks! give me religious freaks!!!

however this is ameliorated by the fantastic variety in cultures/societies/stories, and also the overarching theme of "the world has moved on from what it once was". like, everything with loial (also strong contender for Supporting Character Of All Time) talking about the groves and how different the world is from what he'd read about in the stedding! the entire scene with the green man (which still makes me feel completely fucking insane, just btw)! perrin and egwene at the ruined statue of artur hawkwing! moiraine telling the people of emond's field about manetheren! WHEWWWWWWWWWW

like, it really does give you this sense of history and loss. but also i hope that as the books go on it gets more into, like, "okay, the world has moved on and nothing will ever be as it once was. so what are we going to do with the world we have? how are we going to keep it safe and let it grow?"

sidenote: the tragedy of listening to the audiobooks is that i can't flip back to look at the map or the glossary if i start getting a little lost 😭 help i just want to get everything Right in my head

i also feel like jordan does a fantastic job of like...getting the reader further and further into the more fantastical or impactful elements of the world step by careful step and pacing out how he escalates the characters' importance to the world. does this make any sense.

like, baerlon -> whitebridge -> caemlyn is a steady stepwise escalation in Experiencing A City. and the one-two-three combo of loial explaining ta'veren to rand + rand overhearing a farmer gossip about queen morgase and her family + the repeated references to seeing the false dragon in caemlyn all leads perfectly into rand falling into the garden and the entire chapter with elayne and gawyn and morgase. (side note: this chapter was fucking incredible, good god i am obsessed with royal political bullshit.) OR having all these moments of the characters with moiraine to establish her nature, then providing an immediate contrast with the introduction of elaida as the "other" aes sedai. DOES THIS MAKE ANY SENSE AT ALL. it's dominoes, baby

okay i have a few other miscellaneous thoughts

i fucking love how unapologetically trope-y these books are. it is so crunchy. not just vis a vis the hero's journey, but also, like, all the repeated motifs? spooky symbolic dream sequences? excerpts from in-universe writings and poetry? Foreshadowing Via Fortune-Telling? chef's kiss

also, dude, i love that robert jordan really dropped all of the fucking symbols for the next who knows how many books into three paragraphs via min. he knew the girlies would go crazy for this. AND HE WAS RIGHT

same goes for the whole concept of ta'veren, like i know on the surface it's kind of a goofy concept that you are Assigned Main Character At Birth by the wheel/the pattern, but also like. this man knew people on tumblr would be obsessing over characters doomed/haunted by narratives 30 years after these books were published. his third eye was OPEN

in a bizarre way so much of the story elements and pacing feels like a d&d campaign. mat is the rogue who picks up stuff he really shouldn't. perrin is a barbarian that accidentally took a level in druid. lan is the dm's npc blorbo with the intricately detailed tragic backstory that gets dumped on the players all at once (this is affectionate i swear). do you see what i'm saying

hi i love these books a lot already and i can't wait for them to get even more insane. thanks 4 ur time

#wheel of time #the wheel of time #wot book spoilers #but not really cos this is all the first book. i just don't know what other tags to add and i want this post to Find Its People #also i'm just now realizing how appropriate it is that i crochet while listening to these books #because. you know. the wheel weaves and whatnot

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enteringdullsville · 5 months

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Underrated Real Time Fandub Lines 2: Subspace Dubbed Over

“That’s one Reddit upvote right there!”

I had to read the transcript for this humdinger, said as Wario turns Zelda into a trophy.

“Woah! That was Wario and he won…”

That’s probably the best way to cap off Wario’s first appearance.

“My name’s ‘Pit’, like under the arm?”

“Exactly like that.”

There’s a lot of times where someone says something and somebody else’s response is drowned out, such as Palutena’s incredibly blunt response to Pit’s question.

“That’s the weirdest airplane.”

It deserves a prize.

“AAAAUUGHH! I remember when that happened!”

Wasted opportunity not to say “Looks like Team Rocket’s jacking off again”.

“ARM!”

“…Ow.”

The Halberd’s sole line of dialogue, coupled with Fox’s hilarious nonplussed reaction.

“What are we, some kind of Subspace Emissary?”

Because we’re…Super Smash Bros!

“Take that, TUUURTLEEE!”

It’s the weird added emphasis that seals the deal.

“You can’t shoot Donkey Kong!”

DK, as he’s actively being shot at.

“I don’t like the cut of your jib!”

DK, you’ve known Bowser for how long now?

“I did that on purpose!”

As the dub goes on, it becomes obvious that Wario’s the army’s most competent general.

“Am I a f***ing draaagon?”

I like to think the only reason Ray talks like that is because Holly’s voice is shot from Wario’s last scene.

“Tha…at’s right.”

“Pokémon Tower! Not Trainer, Tower!”

“Now I have it-ZELDA.”

Any time the characters acknowledge the character screens.

“I’m back with my GUN THAT KILLS PEOPLE!”

…As opposed to…

“I DO MAGIC, KILL JACKED UP KIDS, I’LL PROBABLY FLY NEXT!”

Porky, seconds before Ness sends him flying.

“I thought that guy was supposed to be Mario, bye!”

This wouldn’t be nearly as funny if Wario wasn’t screaming his name nonstop.

“Did you have lunch today, R.O.B.?”

“No, R.O.B., I didn’t have lunch today!”

The delivery on R.O.B. 2 is what kills me.

“It’s like-a the better pizzuh.”

R.O.B. lets his one guest appearance in Mario Kart go to his head.

“Why is it purple?”

“Because purple’s my favorite color, dumbass.”

“It’s a baaad color!”

“Stupid idiot.”

“Red’s better!”

This’ll be important later on...

“Dude, cookoldry-never mind.”

Hey, reference!

“Nyehh, oh, I’m not even supposed to be here!”

Another gem from “Bozo Dubbed Over” that doesn’t get enough appreciation.

“AH HOPE HE’S DEAD FOREVER!”

I quote this constantly.

“We’re Kirby.”

That’s oddly daunting coming from a bunch of Waddle Dees.

“Whoa, deja vu!”

“It’s happening again!”

Again, I quote Dedede constantly, intonation and all.

“It’s because I’m so scared that I did it!”

Luigi’s voice is just the best thing.

“F***ing, f***ing, f***ing, f***…I GOTTA WIN!”

Wario gets beat up so hard it causes him to talk normally.

“I HOPE THAT GUY’S NOT GETTING JACKED OFF.”

My favorite version of the episode’s running gag.

“HEY, LISTEN!”

Navi’s sole line of dialogue, and she’s inebriated.

“OHHH, that smells so bad! Did you do that?”

“…Yes.”

I adore the quick, off handed way Link says it.

“Who goes there? It’s me!”

Out of context, that’s an incredibly cool one liner.

“He speaks!”

Somebody in the background, talking about Pikachu.

“I think I found the computer room.”

IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN!

“That looks like OH, IT’S ME! KIRBY!”

Mar switching characters mid sentence.

“I think this guy’s about to kill you.”

This line plagues my mind and I love it.

“I killed you.”

“I ALSO KILLED YOU.”

Bowser and Bowser, Bowser’s Inside Bowser.

“I’m here again! BOWSER! I GOTTA WIN!”

Must be a Subspace Army thing.

“Ahh, it’s me! Zelda!”

“Oh no! It’s him! Zelda!”

Bonus points for being the second or third intelligible things Peach says.

“They killed Link! It’s so funny she died!”

‘Zelda’ kind of sucks at his job.

“Oh, I know this guy. He jump on me.”

“Dude, you ever noticed I’m f***ing green?”

“I’m here too; f***!”

“I’m a f***ing animal!”

Yoshi in general is gold.

“EEEYYYYYYYY-”

“WHO THE F*** IS THIS GUY?!”

Kirby’s very abrupt and dynamic entrance on the Wariomobile.

“Well! It’s a good thing I fixed my roof and got Bowser outta here!”

I love the implication that all the branching timelines are literally occurring back to back.

“WE’RE DOING IT AGAIN! WE HATE YOU!”

Bowser takes a page out of Dedede’s book.

“That’s my girlfriend!”

“Don’t kill your girlfriend! That’s my job!”

“I DON’T KNOW HER! KILL HER!”

“That’s my job!”

Same two characters, different princesses.

“Tuck my hand on my head! Hope my hair isn’t gay…”

“His hair is so stupid.”

The first line is funny enough coming from this version of Marth. Ike, however, I’m only just hearing his aside for the first time.

“YOU HAVE TO STAY HERE. YOU HAVE TO STAY HERE. I CAN’T. I’M GONNA BLOW UP, DUDE. YOU HAVE TO STAY HERE. I CAN’T DO THIS ALONE.”

“My main goal is to blow up!”

Tower, you’re pure evil.

“Beep, boop. We’re opening the doors! Come on in!”

“I don’t know what they were talking about, but that’s okay.”

The Wall-E Squad provides some of the series’ best nonsequiturs.

“Hey, you stop that, dumbass!”

Not so funny now, is it R.O.B.?

“AWW, F***! IT’S JET THE HAWK!”

That would be his cousin.

“UGNHF.”

This guy’s about to…

“Now I’m a robot!”

I’ve got nothing. Sam’s incredibly proud delivery is just great.

“How’s the weather up there?”

Pikachu also gets a good burn in.

“I BET MY PENIS IS REAL SMALL!”

Hello to you too, Falcon.

“WAAGH! WAAGH! WAAGH! WAAGH!”

“Get the F*** OUT!”

Falco cares not for Diddy’s eccentricities.

“Okay, I’m-I’m sick of this.”

MK serves as a great voice of reason to the crew.

“I’M A VERY SPECIAL BOY.”

“That is un dog!”

“Iiii’m a furry.”

Because dogs aren’t furries!

“Whoo!”

“What the heck’s going on down there?”

“Me!”

“I’m also here!”

“I’m not supposed to be here!”

Our heroes.

“It’s okay, we’re almost done.”

“…Really?”

“Kept ya waiting, huh?”

A golden bit of timing right there.

“I’m in disguise now!”

Sheik, making no attempt to hide their distinctive voice.

“I’m in love with Samus, actually now!”

“I’M NOT!”

“No, not as much as I am, look-”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“No.”

You’d think being his species’ only dude would teach the Gan-Man some respect.

“This guy’s so horny, let’s kill him!”

R.O.B.’s immediate response to the above.

“That’s your f***ing name? That’s stupid!”

Falcon to R.O.B.. Three guesses as to who voices Falcon.

“THAT BETTER NOT BE THE RIDDLE GUY BEHIND US!”

It’s totally the riddle guy behind you.

“I’M THE BEST RACE CAR! F*** YOU!”

Kirby’s freaking pissed.

“My Michael was muted.”

That’s the most adorable way to refer to a microphone.

“You can’t kill me I’m so much too powerful f*** you to death.”

The lack of commas both deliberate and optimal.

“There shalt be no jacking off today…JACK ME OFF!”

“OOHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

“I’m jacking off!”

The climax of the dub, as narrated by Falco.

“Now I’m back alive. WHYYY!?”

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU TWICE!”

Doing things in twos is just the Dedede way.

“AH NEED AH MONSTAH TO CLOBBAH DAT DERE PENIS!”

You like his quote?

“Wario’s gotta lose!”

Luigi finally grows a pair.

“MEOWMEOWMEOWMEOWMEOWMEOWMEOW”

The last intelligible thing we hear, presumably Jigglypuff, before Penny banishes everyone for their hubris.

#real time fandub #rtf #the subspace emissary #snapcube

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grailfinders · 1 year

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Fate & Phantasms TDoV special!

we're getting a little too close to 1000 followers for my liking, so it's time to celebrate the Transgender Day of Visibility! /j

sadly we don't have the time to create a whole new build for a famous historical transgender person, but we still have time to do a roundup of all the trans people already in fate, whether through their historical source or in fate itself. we're also including any servant who intentionally doesn't care about the gender binary in here, because its our list and we'll do as we'll please. we're also not including genderbends on being genderbent alone, or else we'd be here all day.

so, if you want to get a trans D&D party together for the Transgender Day of Vengeance, check out some of the options below!

Artoria Pendragon: we're including her not because she's a genderbend, but because she spent her entire life laboring under a gender role that slowly crushed her physically and mentally. Big mood, as the kids say.

Chevalier d'Eon: obviously putting modern labels of sexuality on historical figures is a fraught game at the best of times, but we can definitely say that the historical d'Eon was intersex, and chose to present as female towards the end of her life, so whatever she was it definitely wasn't cisgender.

Cú Chulainn: Cu isn't explicitly transgender in either his source nor in Fate, but it's not that hard to get a trans interpretation from the Ulster Cycle, what with its emphasis on how small and beardless Cu is, plus how he was immune to that curse Medb used to give all the men of Ulster birthing pains. plus this is our list so fuck it, we stan.

Sir Francis Drake: now admittedly this is our shakiest logic yet, but hear me out- her bio explicitly says that her crew sees calling her a woman as "rude" to her. there's a lot of ways to read into that, and this is one of them.

Jack the Ripper: ...can you reject the gender you were assigned at birth if you were never born? still, this one's just a numbers game- at least one of those abortions would've been assigned male, right? also, a screaming amalgam of the dead back for vengeance is great energy to bring to the party.

Mordred Pendragon: their gender? knight.

SHIKI, Shiki, and Shiki: being multiple people does wild things to gender. problematic fave tbf

Astolfo: Astolfo.

Hundred Personas: again, this one's a numbers game. ...do they still count as trans if they have their own bodies now? also, give them the male tag lasengle. you cowards.

Minamoto-no-Raikou: we're not including this one just because she's a genderbend, but because she's spent her whole life under the burden of a gender role she never wanted. also I've met plenty of tranfemmes who are just as obsessed about motherhood and want that exact kind of body.

Leonardo da Vinci: nonbinary queen, we stan

Enkidu: literally genderfluid, I can respect a good pun.

Prince Nezha: does not give a shit about their gender. good for them, best beep-boop.

Sieg: the yggdmillenia family didn't bother giving their mana batteries genders, so Sieg's canonically intersex! he's also a fucking great looper, if you got him you should level him.

Shi Huangdi: at some point the first emperor of china kind of forgot gender existed. god I wish that was me.

Kama: they can transform, Lasengle. you said so yourself. give them a male skin, you cowards

Sima Yi & Reines: ...I mean, I hear people call being trans like, "having a man's soul in a woman's body", and that's literally this.. does this count? I don't know, but the important thing is it's raising the question.

Maou Nobu: I've met them and they're trans, that's good enough proof for me.

Caeneus: ditto.

Van Gogh, Nemo, and Taira-no-Kagekiyo: I'm sorry for lumping these three together, but they're all right next to each other and they're all just "being multiple people does weird things to your gender" again.

Kiichi Hogen: see Kama.

#fate grand order #fgo #D&D 5e #DND #transgender

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daftbitch · 1 year

Note

Hi! NSA here! Sorry for the radio silence, I've been going through it in the mental health department. Plus work and all. I haven’t been able to write at all even though I want to. I hope you’ve been well despite, you know (gestures to the general state of the world)

Omg though pinning a post to call out to me u///u I’m flattered!

You wanted to hear my thoughts about Doe's Nekomamushi fic, and I will share them now! I did read it, but I was so FED that I wanted to devote the proper energy to address what I all liked about it, and I was far too tired to do that this past few weeks. And just kind of… not in the mood to engage with something positive when my brain is in the pits. But now I am here.

A while ago, someone sent Doe an ask referring to the drabbles I sent you and saying she had competition–I wanted to scream! Don’t compare us! T_T She’s got far more experience under her belt! The Nekomamushi commission is proof enough of that. Just incredible work.

Here’s my thoughts:

The intro is masterfully set up. Just paragraph after paragraph of vivid imagery of the location and the sensations of running through a tangled wood and the thrill of it all. Like 14 paragraphs before we even see Nekomamushi, and none of it is boring. I’m like hitting my head on a wall from a writer’s perspective because it’s so well done! The sun setting and the following hush are great transitions to the last part of the chase and really set the mood. I especially love when Sterling wonders to herself if Zunesha sleeps!! It’s such a small but poetic detail that really helps ground her in the world she lives in despite that world being so whimsical.

"A daring glance back was too tempting to resist." I love this sentence and how it transitions to the reveal, I love the emphasis on hunting grounds. But I think my favorite part of maybe the whole fic is the end of the paragraph:

“So in tune with nature here, it made her shudder. It almost flowed around him, with the ease at which he caught up.”

It’s sooo good! I can picture it perfectly and I just love the concept; such a master of his environment that it feels like the forest moves around him rather than the opposite. Coolest shit ever and something I can easily visualize.

And man, Doe is like a master of mood. After the buildup of the chase and the reveal, literally the moment his paw comes down and pins Sterling I’m on the edge of my seat with anticipation. And from the very start the dialogue is fucking hot:

"Well, little kitten, I've got you-gara right where I want you…there is no place in this jungle where I couldn't find you…"

DAMN I mean talk about starting off strong! And their back-and-forth is so cute and hot.

"Adrenaline and heat, all swirling together. I would chase that scent anywhere, kitten. I'd find you anywhere, until I could have you."

OTL I CANNOT, and immediately followed by "I'll always be yours." !?!? Im GONNA SCREAM!!

“...causing the beast to rumble in approval. That sound was felt all the way to her core.”

Doe hits all of the monsterfucker motifs: the growling of a beast being felt physically, the heat, the strength, the size difference, for some examples. She has an excellent understanding of the draw of the whole thing and knows how to execute those aspects very well.

Also. ALSO.

"They say you shouldn't tempt the beast." - "I think the beast is tempting me. Don't make me wait."

Fucking SUPERB I love the dialogue so much.

"Eyes on me, kitten."

The dominance and being called “kitten” grjgjdfskhfsj. I know I write the same thing but that’s because IT RULES (no pun intended) and Doe does an amazing job at it

The buildup to the actual penetration, the threat of the edging and the dirty talk is drawn out perfectly and is literally so hot it makes me dizzy. And it all builds up to the tipping point/high point/climax (literaty-term-wise) that is making Sterling beg for it, before you even get to the main event.

“Nekomamushi's Sulong form is always a bit rougher with her than his daytime self. The beast took what it wanted, and thought of her wellbeing later on once the throes of heat had cooled. But Sterling liked the thrill of being at the moon beast's mercy, a cunt to be used to breed and nothing more.”

Again with Doe showing 100% understanding of what the appeal of monsterfucking is. We love to see it. And then you actually have the main event and it’s 6 full sizzling spicy mastercrafted paragraphs before the first orgasm, like. I don’t know how she does it! Then we get 3 more before Nekomamushi’s??

Then a perfect resolution and closing line, which is always something I struggle with. The whole thing is Literally 1000/10 work.

Man, I aspire to write stuff like this. I really look up to Doe as a writer.

That’s about all of my thoughts on that. T_T I love fics I love OCs and self inserts and reader inserts I love writing (I hate writing) I love writing. How have you been, KP? I hope things are okay for you.

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU FOR SO LONG!!! I WOULD WAIT A MILLION YEARS FOR YOU TO COME BACK TO ME!!! I’M SO HAPPY YOU SAW MY PINNED POST I THINK OF YOU ON THE DAILY!!!

I’m not gonna lie when I saw this at work I literally started jumping up and down and screaming with joy silently, of course, but I did jump up and down. I want you to take your time and reply to me whenever you feel OK there’s no time limit and I’m always gonna be here. Also, it’s OK if you don’t wanna come off anon that’s completely your choice. And I don’t fault you for that at all.

After I read through your message all the way I literally called Doe and I read her this she was literally so happy She said it made her week and she’s never had such an analytical review of one of her works before she knows the time and energy. It must’ve taken for you to write all of this and source actual lines from her story

She said she greatly appreciate you for doing that very much and if you ever want to go over to her blog and just be on anon to just go ahead and do that if you want.

I reread that story a couple of times a week because it’s a literally, my favorite, and that one line with Sterling just being a Cunt to breed literally always sends a tingle through me. It’s literally my favorite line of the entire story.

My friend I greatly appreciate you so much and you don’t know how much joy that you bring me every time you message me I always get really giddy and giggle a lot that’s how much I look forward to you.

I’m always here if you wanna talk to me if you even want to make a side blog and keep your self anonymous that way and go into my DM’s. If you just want to talk I’m totally down with that too. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with or we can continue communicating this way it’s literally whatever.

And I have so much more I want to tell you and I look forward to hearing from you once again, it brightens up my entire day. You have no idea !!!

I am doing pretty good. I’m getting over a back injury and Covid. I go see the Barbie movie on Saturday. I’m very excited for that. Hopefully you can see it too if you want.

I have so much to tell you and I would like to discuss a bunch of horny stuff with you, but just general stuff in general

I hope this finds you well, my friend

#nekomamushi #Nekomamushi smut anon

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hwaightme · 2 years

Note

ok hi hello. its time.

okay so just for the tmi of the day. i was so frustrated with having no time to read this that i literally took the decision to wake up at 5am today to read it before work. and before you say i didn't have to do that... yes. yes i did!

i was literaly blessed with this masterpiece (once again). ughhhh it was too good!

so first of all i really really really really loved the academic atmosphere. like the whole setting was so well described and i felt like a was back in law school (eventhough it was last year lol). i don't know anything about psychology so i was really in awe with the whole concept and it really put emphasis on the fact that oc and hongjoong were just a different level of smart.

and gorllll the tensionnnn™ the mutual pinning©!!!! i felt like a held my breath throught this whole thing.

and dom/frustrated/riled up hongjoong just have mercy on my and unalive me right now. put me out of my misery!! i legit screamed with the group of students part....

and gorllll the ✨oral scene✨..... it was THE BEST with the beltttt... i was like this 👁👄👁 when i say i loved it .... believe me it was the bestttttttttttttttttttttttt

anyways thank you again for this it was so worth getting up early and my day went amazing!

I'm just:

HELLO THERE MY ANGEL😭❤ Oh my gosh I appreciate you doing that to the ends of this galaxy😭❤ thank you so so much!!!! (ahahah okay I won't say it, but what I will say is that I am very very glad that your day went amazing!!!❤)

I am so unbelievably grateful that you enjoyed the imagery, and the detailing of the feelings that the surroundings incite!! I find the interplay between inner and outer worlds fascinating, so try to improve on that as much as I can - to hear you say Motivate Me made you feel like you were back in law school is making my heart swell ❤💙💜 (separate note: oh my gosh law school!!? That is AMAZING!!! So much respect to you and congrats~). Psychology is something I enjoy learning about, though can't say I know it well😂 shoutout to the pros out there💜💙 but greatly appreciate you loving the way it was interlaced~~

AAAAaaaah thank you thank you thank you!!!! Nothing quite like them risking it all for the high and for what they had been wanting and needing all this time👀 Hongjoong in a different flow state to retain at least a gram of self-control... only to teach a different kind of lesson right after 👀 ah really you are too kind, that is the highest praise, thank you so much❤💜💙

Literally the biggest ever hugs to you and all the love❤

#hwaightme #byuntrash101 #hm/asks #hm/motivate me #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #kim hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut

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your-name-is-my-favorite-verse · 2 years

Text

Finding The Sun

Chptr 2.

I entered my apartment, throwing my coat on the floor beside me. With a groan, I leaned against the front door and slid down to sit. That was a living hell, having to talk about her. What she was like, how she died. The thought of her remained there, like it was branded on the side of my brain. Thinking about what Dr. Lindsay said, I stood up. "A clean space is the first step to feeling better." Unfortunately, my apartment was the farthest thing from clean I've ever seen. Grabbing a trash bag, I start picking up bottles, boxes, cans. The floor started to clear, without hundreds of empty beer cans scattered around.

I looked to the side, at the shattered glass coffee table in the living room. I remembered the last time that table was still in one piece, back when she was alive.

It had been a year ago, back when I still had tangible things to live for, to reach for. She had gathered with my friends around that table, a cake on top of it. When I walked through the door, they cheered at my very presence. The cake read "one year clean!". They all congratulated me, pulling me into a sappy, tear-filled group hug. I remember the love I felt in that moment. The pride.

So much for that now, huh? All I had left was the broken remnants, and scars from glass cutting up my fists. I sighed, and steered clear of the remaining shards. That was for later. I could barely be bothered to walk right then, much less sweep.

After about 30 minutes and 4 trash bags, my apartment looked sorta livable. Emphasis on sorta. The coffee table was still destroyed, laundry and dirty dishes scattered everywhere. I stumbled to my bed and hit the soft mattress, not bothering to take off my clothes before I fell asleep.

I woke up with a start, a bright light shining at me through my eyelids. Did I sleep with the light on? I didn't remember even having an overhead light, in the first place. My bed didn't feel right, hard and rough, and I opened my eyes to figure out what was going on.

They opened to a blue sky, and the sun beaming directly on my face. In my lethargy, this didn't entirely shock me. I blinked a few times and rubbed my face to clear away the residual sleepiness in my body.

I started noticing that I was surrounded by tall grass, that kind that looks a bit like fuzzy wheat. As I slowly started to register exactly what I was experiencing, I got a bit freaked out. I stood to look at my surroundings.

That grass spread as far as I could see in every direction, gently rustling as I quickly turned to and fro, trying to get my bearings. Somewhere in the distance, in front of me, I heard a noise.

No, a voice. Someone called me. The voice got louder, and I recalled the vocals with a bittersweet realization. It was HER.

I don’t know when I started moving, but I felt my legs carry me towards her voice. A walk turned into a frantic run, as I brushed through the grass, and my feet thudded along.

Suddenly, a warm, strong wind blew in my direction. The sound of the tall grass swishing around me was hypnotic, and yet I kept running. I had to get to her, I had to. The wind started howling, pushing me back. I kept trying to get my footing, yet the grass just got denser, harder to wade through.

She continued to call for me, but when I screamed out, no words left my throat. and The wind continued as my world started to spin, around and around again, until I fell to the ground. All I heard was a faint buzzing, as I passed out in the silvergrass.

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devandahlcourte-work-in-progress · 2 years

Text

Section 18. 2 chapters, ending with chapter 71

I am reposting these first eighty-two chapters (in 22 sections) plus the prologue and the preface.

These posts will be the updated versions from my DeviantArt account, and since Tumblr may not display all the text correctly (it destroys anything I had in italics or underlined) I would still recommend reading everything there, on DeviantArt. They will also include internal links that navigate between the chapters on DeviantArt and will take the reader off Tumblr if clicked.

This came about because I noticed search engines were finding random sections of my book and displaying them along with some other people’s blog posts.

Okay, so that’s why I installed those internal links in each one… so that if anyone gets to a random section by way of a search engine and would like to read the story from the beginning, they can.

Only then did I realize that it wasn’t getting it’s search results from DeviantArt, but from old Tumblr.

There’s another problem at work here besides unrefined searches…

There is a new species of virus on the internet that likes to eat ancient Tumblr posts and barf them back up infested with adware - spyware - malware etc. The virus goes by names like TumGIR, TumBIG, TumPIK, or Tum(anything else but ‘blr’). The caps were added by me for emphasis so that maybe you can double check in case you’re not looking at an actual Tumblr post right now but one of these so-called “mirror” sites.

If you’re looking at this text through one of the counterfeit Tumblrs that I mentioned, then no link you click (assuming it even copies it with my links intact) will take you out; it will redirect you and show you all of the spam ads it wants to. So read carefully what url is showing on your browser right now.

If it is one of the untrustworthy ones I would suggest closing your browser window and doing whatever else you normally would in order to reset settings.

As far as my science fiction novel entitled “If And Only If,” the safest way to find it is by going to my Instagram:

@michelle.de.vandahlcourte

From there you can click on the link in my bio. It will take you to the beginning of the story on DeviantArt… the safe one! No malware.

P.S. None of this is Tumblr’s fault! It’s the malware/adware/spyware developers who are stealing people’s tumblr posts.

The actual content of this page appears below here👇

Section 18. 2 chapters, ending with chapter 71

↩️return to previous section, section 17

↩️↩️…and if you arrived here because of a search engine and you would like to read this story from the beginning, click here.

Swifty

He would’ve liked to think that all his cowboy nonsense made some kind of difference. For just a split-second he dared. There were no new loud crash-landing noises behind him. A smaller scale kind of ruckus was taking place along with a new shadow dance, which suggested a new source of fire. He couldn’t look. Focus... he screamed to himself, on emptying both of these clips into them.

And what the hell are they? “Them” as he’d just tagged them in his thoughts right now, didn’t seem like any aliens from any science-fiction work he’d ever read. Flatland? Those were cute fluffy bunnies compared to these things! The so-called armor piercing rounds seemed to just vanish into an abyss inside each one, as if they were disappearing into another dimension somewhere. Was that what these things were? Creatures from some other dimension?

Common sense and arithmetic told him he’d be out of ammo soon. Butthead didn’t appear to have any extra magazines on him. Although both of these extended a bit below the butt of each pistol, that would mean what? Maybe fifteen to twenty, each? He tried desperately to search his memory and recall if the rounds looked staggered. Was it that kind of weapon? He’d only reloaded the previously chambered rounds back in each one. If staggered, could it be up to thirty or so each… maybe a bit more?

Not by much. Before he ran out, the window creatures moved a little. As he stepped around to try and keep everyone in his field of fire he could see the third attack helicopter after all. And it wasn’t good. The shadow-beast wannabe had made contact, by way of its beam and the helicopter was now burning.

If it had been allowed to go on its way for just a couple of seconds longer it might’ve made a normal landing. It was on a “good approach” if that’s the right term. As it was not permitted to continue with its descent, the aircraft’s fall was from roughly twenty feet. Possibly survivable for anyone properly strapped in, but not if they were on fire!

When it did smash down, the uneven surface caused it to tip about 45 degrees to the side, with the doors wide open. The result was like something that toy-hating kid might’ve put together. It abruptly dumped a pile of bodies out, with roughly half of them on fire. The reality that these were not toys was becoming nauseatingly and horrifyingly clear to the aging desk jockey who had never been in any sort of combat in his life. Though still on the other side of Sawyer Street, he could feel a noticeable surge of heat as something on the back end of the chopper exploded, then a smell at once penetrating his nostrils that reminded him of times when his father had decided to refill all of his old fashioned cigarette lighters at once with lighter fluid. Maybe. Not quite gasoline, not quite kerosene. It didn’t engulf the crew with any more flames but mostly spewed out the back and upwards with a roiling smoke cloud.

The ones who were burning were motionless. So maybe they were dead already before being dumped out and hadn’t suffered much, Swifty thought, instead of being burned to death right now in front of him. Some who weren’t on fire were also motionless. Of the few who might have still had life in them, one in particular seemed to be fighting to free himself from the wreckage. It was more like some kind of overhead strap he’d been trying to grab onto had inadvertently become wrapped around his wrist, which he was now hanging from with boots about a foot off the ground; thankfully no bent and burning metal wreckage was restraining him.

Something finally gave. The guy was free and dropped the short distance to the ground. Wounded, Swifty could tell, but not nearly as bad as the others. His weapon (the outline resembled an HK 90-something maybe but Swifty had only made a cursory study of these things) was securely slung around him. From the bulges in his web gear he could see that the man had brought enough clips to decimate a couple of platoons of the other idiots who had him tied to the chair – the ones he’d given a description of in his coded phone call. But against these bastards? Would it matter? They were up against something clearly not from this world. And how would he communicate that fact to this guy?

Anyway, with at least this one heavily armed gentleman here, at least he could take up a position behind some kind of cover, and at least someone could keep the fight going. The man didn’t run for cover though. Instead he evidently noted enough signs of life in one of his fellow crew members on the ground and proceeded to rapidly pick the guy up in a perfect fireman‘s carry.

If Swifty had time to gawk and hands to applaud with he would have. After 9/11 there had been a number of special courses which he’d been required to take. These included “emergency medic training,” although the military medics from all branches of the service had nonverbally indicated that they didn’t think it was nearly as tough or as thorough as the real thing.

One of the things they’d learned were carries. This man had pulled it off flawlessly – as well as his Navy Corpsman instructor ever had. “Whoa,” he thought, “what a damned good guy to have on your side in a disaster like this.”

All this pondering and observing had only taken a few more seconds. None of which had interrupted his hammering away at the things with his pistols. Right about when the ops guy had picked up the other wounded man, Swifty finally ran out. The second pistol predictably went for a few more rounds since he started using it slightly later. The pain he felt next was wholy unexpected though: Immediately he ruled out overheating. He was using these weapons in precisely the way they’d been designed to operate.

Nevertheless there was heat. But if it was due to overheating, that problem would affect the barrels first and not the pistol grips, which were now hot enough to make him involuntarily drop both handguns to the ground. It wasn’t enough to cause burn injuries to his hands. Just exactly as if someone had grabbed something from a stove top that they didn’t know was hot and suddenly let go of it. He shook and flapped his hands a bit at the pain but it was over in microseconds.

Simultaneously he noticed the heat waves, fading away now, connecting directly between himself and the left window but more diffuse and not a totally focused beam as had been used against the helicopters.

This was potentially fantastic news! He specialized in reading information from things that people did which they didn’t know were revealing any information. They had just told him: Hey! Stop it! Those bullets are annoying us. The fact that they had been willing to expend the energy – any energy – to direct any kind of heat ray at him at all meant that all his machine pistol antics were bothering them. At least a little.

So if 9 mm parabellum irritated them, would 7.62 mm NATO irritate them more? He pondered this as the guy approached and he got a better view of the weapon and could now estimate its caliber.

Approached!? Yes, the man carrying his wounded friend was making a direct line for him. “The mission! He recognizes me!” Swifty reasoned that there had probably been some hastily prepared in-flight briefing, including Swifty‘s picture on an overhead monitor that all the guys were watching.

It’s possible that he doesn’t know these things are the enemy and that they were what shot down the attack helicopters. That would make sense; they were dark, small in size, and had attacked with nearly invisible beams.

Castadiva

“…need something? Or did you want to visit the little girls room? If you do I’ll head over there with you. We can go to the VIP one, you know… no lines or waiting for a stall” Maura said looking at me a bit quizzically.

“Huh?”

Not my most articulate moment of the night, I realized as I replayed what Maura had just been trying to say to me. Then immediately I added “Oh, no I didn’t need anything. But I was going to get up to do something. Now I can’t for the life of me remember what it was that I was getting up for…”

Maura smiled and shook her head “Senior moment! Don’t feel bad dear, I get ‘em all the time and ever since I was a kid. Guess I was just mature for my age.”

“But now that you mention it,” I quickly volunteered, “this would be an excellent time for the restroom. If they could excuse me for a few minutes?”

“Oh they will. I’m sure there’s more of us that need to make the trip, what with all this wine we’ve been guzzling!” Maura was a master of girl-facial-expression-code and without a word got the attention of two of the other women by eye contact only. With some expressions and head motioning, our squad was assembled and on its way.

As we stood up I steadied myself for balance. Wine!!! Fuck! I wondered briefly again what in the world I had been wanting to get up and walk towards, over near the kitchen doors. Then Maura tugged at my sleeve as she staggered upon standing after just killing the $6K bottle with only a tiny bit of help from me.

And so the four of us – with a combined net worth of a bit over two billion dollars, Maura informed me after donning my AR glasses for fun – headed to the nearby VIP bathroom at La M.M. as I hummed softly to myself.

Or so I thought. I guess not that softly then.

“Oh my god, what is that tune? It sounds sooo familiar!” Strawberry Blonde Centimillionaire beseeched me before I finished one whole chorus of the tune.

“You know, I’m really not sure. I’ve just suddenly got it stuck in my head,” I honestly and immediately quipped back.

“Dah-dah dah-dah-dah” she sang, then maybe less than an octave lower nearly but not quite the same sequence, “Dah-dah dah-dah-dah,” and back to more-or-less the original pitch once again “Dah-dah dah-dah-dah,” punctuated with one final note, “dum.”

“Yes, that’s it exactly,” I agreed with her.

“Great Blondie,” Maura smiled thinly this time, “now you two’ve got it stuck in my head also!”

Mr. $729 Million from earlier – the glasses had updated his net worth, Maura noticed and informed me, when she’d put them on at the table for some odd reason – looked amused and couldn’t seem to help asking as we passed his end of the table: “why on earth are you ladies singing that?”

“What is it?” The one I’d mentally nicknamed Betty Boop Centimillionaire paused to ask him and clarified: “we’ve got it stuck in our heads all of a sudden.”

“Well I don’t really know if it was ever a song per se,” he ventured rapidly since he knew we were restroom-bound and in a hurry, “but it’s an old ringtone or maybe text tone from around fifteen or twenty years ago. It was called Minuet.”

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

If you have a nightmare where you are crying, can you wake up actually crying tears?

Yes. Google thinks you can. I checked as soon as I woke up.

I wasn’t the one doing the crying; it was a “character” I suppose, in my dream. I was having a nightmare. My first nightmare that I can recall in forever. It was a girl. Kinda familiar. But damned if I could remember where I saw her.

A dream about someone else sleeping? That’s also unusual I guess. She was tossing in her sleep, groaning, crying out. Her scream upon awakening was blood-curdling like from some classic old horror flick; the neighbors in her building were pounding on her door, worried out of their own sleep. They shouted. A name? And a word.

As I woke up I already began to forget. I tried. But it frustrated me as usual. I couldn’t remember. Fifteen more minutes before my alarm was to go off. I would have had just a little more time. Crap.

I got up anyway. Might as well get an early start since today’s the big studio tour – both the movie studio and my design studio there, built to my specifications – along with many of my regular crew who were meeting me. I wouldn’t have been able to get back to sleep in a beneficial way with only fifteen minutes in any case.

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

It was one of those moments… random stuff throughout the day. A dream that you forgot you had in the early morning. Then the trigger. A tv on the wall of a celeb’s dressing room while one of my seamstresses did some measurements. I chatted with the starlet about some of her fave fashions, trying also to bullshit my way through talk of her movies; some of them I might have seen bits of while walking through a room where someone had a tv on once in a while. Basically I’d seen weather forecasters on the news who were more entertaining. But naturally I had to be polite. And just as a person, she was pleasant enough to speak with. I simply couldn’t do a convincing job at coming off as an adoring fan of her work.

I disguised this by repeatedly steering the talk back around to fashion; not too surprising and hopefully not too out of place since that’s what I’m famous for and she does know that’s what I’m doing here at the studio. The tv image jarred me though. I lost track of what she was saying about herself when I saw the missing-person alert on the news. She was aware that my attention had drifted and turned to see what had distracted me.

“Oh my God, that’s awful,” she unconvincingly tried to sound concerned but then cut herself off with “hey… La Movida?! Weren’t y’all just there recently?” Her southern accent was something that I hadn’t had much experience with lately. Even in Austin it wasn’t typical; being an island of blue in a red state plus spending the bulk of my time there either on or around campus.

“Yes, two nights ago,” I trailed off realizing before she did, that this woman was abducted or somehow otherwise disappeared at exactly the time that we were there. Candy. The word from my dream that the screaming-upon-waking-up-from-her-nightmare woman’s neighbors were hollering through the door. But it was a name in this case. The “name” they’d been shouting in my dream – at least I assumed it was a name – was Chirene. But Candy was the missing woman’s name; the picture looked nothing like the character from my dream either. If anything, my dream character kinda resembled me when I was twenty. So I could have written it off as coincidence. Still, it seemed weird.

“…try to interview any of you?” what’s-her-names voice came back in and finally registered over the loudness of my thoughts. I brilliantly parried with my typical “huh?” The old standby from school up through the seventh grade before I got serious about academics. I pieced together what she was trying to ask me easy enough.

“No. I suppose they knew we hadn’t seen anything since we were at a banquet table in a large privacy nook, behind a partition. Maybe she disappeared from some other part of La Movida Madrileña? But now that you mention it I am surprised we didn’t see any cops at all – just business-as-usual.”

“Oh that could easily be,” she nodded knowingly, “since they do have three separate floors there.”

That actually made sense, I thought. She’s probably right. The unfortunate woman was involved in something in an altogether different place within the establishment and whatever happened had been completely out of our view.

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

Later a guy who looked like one of the football player characters from that old Dazed And Confused movie startled me when he yelled out loud in pain; he was steadying himself on a snack table that had a coffee machine and had apparently burned his hand. How? I wondered. On the hotplate portion where the carafe sat? Who knows. I really empathized with his pain apparently. It was as if his scream made my nipples just sort of barely start to get hard.

What was weird about it was, even though I had no clue who he was, the night before last his picture appeared in the history file of my AR glasses as if I had looked him up before. The last time I’d even taken the case out of my bag was that night at La Movida Madrileña.

It was about five minutes later when I saw Maura and asked if she recalled anyone else using my glasses that night – admitting that I was a bit tipsy from all the excellent wine.

“Uh-oh, why?” she asked sheepishly. “If I broke them I’ll have my assistant Jacques bring you around a new pair, darling. And your people hopefully had all your data backed up?”

I reassured her that she hadn’t broken them, then almost forgot about burned-hand guy. Like that feeling when you walk into a room to get something but then can’t remember what it was you got up for. Then, the light flickering back on, I snapped: “Dazed and Confused guy over there. The one talking to Shallow Hal, who just burned his hand a few minutes ago. He’s in the history file of my glasses, but I don’t remember ever examining him with augmented reality. Did you – –”

“Girl! You were more wasted than I thought,” she said after briefly laughing in a way that sounded like they could have used her on a laugh track for part of a fake studio audience. Had I noticed that about her laugh before? It seemed almost familiar but in a fuzzy kinda way. Fuzzy familiar. Just like burned-hand dude.

“You really don’t recall? It was at that club-slash-restaurant night before last,” she went on incredulously, “I had you look up his name with your trusty Cyb-AR-sleek twenty-sevens because I couldn’t remember it even though he kinda works for me, indirectly. Then I wanted you to let me know what they showed for my net worth; they also told us that he was in debt. I said something about us both having ‘senior-moments’ but I’m not sure what it was about. Then we all went to pee together. Well, not everybody…”

Maura rambled on but I did try to pay attention because she was a treasure trove of information right now about a piece of my life which I’d evidently blocked, but I was suddenly gripped by a chilling notion “…and speaking of which,” she babbled on, “senior-moment alert again, I can’t think of Shallow Hal’s real name either; I know he’s some kind of famous actor but I don’t think you can get your little helpers out without making it obvious that we’re trying to check him out, even with oblique periscope mode.”

When she finally paused for a breath I interjected – having thoroughly forgotten what I’d wanted to ask her again: “maybe you could pull a Miranda Priestly and have Jacques tell you?”

Laugh-track laugh again. “It’s tempting, right. But I’ve got Jacques, Stella, and Candelario all running different errands for me right now… Oh! But maybe Angela would know,” she said, flagging down Betty Boop Centimillionaire.

“Hey girlfriend, hold still, I just thought of something. Castadiva needs an excuse to get her data glasses on without being obvious with those guys over there, and while we’re at it I’m curious to see if it updated your net worth projection yet.”

Angela. Yes. Remember Angela, I chided myself. I needed to stop internally referring to all these new people by the silly nicknames I’d been giving them. And yes, her net worth was up from the upper 890 millions to 1.03 billion. “Hey! Congrats Angela! This thing has you as a billionaire now,” I sincerely said, hoping she didn’t mind the intrusion. She didn’t. Smiling and kind of bragging, she detailed some of the highlights of her last very successful two quarters.

Good. Now that I’ve used Angela in conversation I can hopefully remember. Because thinking of her as Betty Boop Billionaire-But-Barely was just getting way too cumbersome. Not to mention that I needed Bald Billionaire’s and Bearded Billionaire’s real names as well. The bearded guy might not mind; guys grow beards ‘cause they want to, and if they keep them it’s ‘cause they like the results. But the bald one might be sensitive about it. Then it hit me again… before Maura went rambling off about something else I squeezed in: “hey by the way, do either of you remember anything to do with cops at Movida the other night?”

“Hey Scandalario!” Angela smiled as one of Maura’s people came scurrying in to bring her a folder with who knows what in it. It wasn’t just her pet name for Candelario, but a nickname he liked using and was popularly known by in the QUILTBAG+ community and Anita had called him that also in our previous meetups.

“Oh yeah, definitely. They were interviewing some stressed-out woman who sort of looked like you over by the kitchen door for a long time. I just assumed it was a dine and dash date,”

…then Maura interrupted Angela: “or some guy groping her on a dance floor. Why’d you ask, chica?”

Holy shit! Could I have been that trashed from the Carménère!?

“Oh it’s just that, earlier, a tv in some actress’s dressing room during a fitting ran a news story about a missing person case and it ended up being from La Movida Madrileña at the exact time we were all there,” I replied, not exactly sure where I was going with this. But I had to say something and it couldn’t be my real thoughts at the moment.

“Super Creepy! I know,” Candelario jumped in and then elaborated with much more info than I’d been able to get off the muted tv on that starlet’s wall. He was mainly addressing Maura to fill her in but glanced at each of us intermittently.

She nodded: “yes, I was vaguely aware that someone by that name had been abducted. Candy. But I hadn’t connected the dots yet and realized it was right under our noses and that’s probably what the cops were doing there.”

“Our backs were mostly turned,” Angela volunteered, “so Blondie and I likely wouldn’t have seen any cops at all if we hadn’t gotten up to go pee.”

Strawberry Blonde Centimillionaire’s actual real name was Blondie! So that’s gonna be an easy one I thought. But now more importantly: had I actually witnessed something and had my memory erased? Considering that, in my lifetime, I’ve interacted with a supernatural taco that may have mind-erasing powers based on some of our observations? That’s not as absurd a question as it might seem. I urgently needed to talk with Amber or Keith. Or both. But for sure Amber. But in person. I needed to fly to San Francisco ASAP.

“…girls might have seen anything, or were you both too tipsy from guzzling ten thousand dollars worth of wine between the two of you?” Angela smiled as I realized she was speaking to both of us.

“Guilty as charged,” Maura laugh-tracked, “and this one,”

“I didn’t even notice there’d been cops there; I only thought to ask because of that tv news piece,” I cut in not realizing Maura was still not finished.

“yeah, this one was having her Anton Ego moments with some of that vino we were knocking back, trying to pick up stuff my klutzy-drunk ass kept dropping on the floor, and chilling out to the video-art-light-show exhibit when our people got into all the boring legalese crap…

…And, not that I’m insensitive about what happened to that poor Candy woman – and her wife Chirene must be going through absolute hell right now – thanks by the way for airdropping me the story Scandalario… but seeing as how we didn’t actually witness anything that could be of help, I just wanted to let you ladies know you’re invited to my building in Manhattan this weekend where multiple bottles of both our new liquid-friends will be waiting! I scored big time deals in the online wine auction circles,” she ended with a brief laugh-track as some lawyer-ish types came over to ask us about the “alleged burn victim,” as they referred to him.

“Aww, Mr. Cheapsuit got hurt?” Maura sounded genuinely sympathetic. But no, although I’d heard him cry out in pain, I told them I hadn’t actually seen the accident. My attention had been on a large safety pin which I’d somehow dropped on the floor out of my “shelter kit” that I always carried. Since no one else had seen anything either, they thanked and left us.

I was almost frozen. A feeling like ice water in my veins allowed me to control myself and my facial expressions.

“Well,” Maura went on, “if cheap-suit-guy was getting coffee for one of the assistant directors as I suspect he was, and since that is part of his job description, and it’s a piece of company equipment – –

I need a dick in me!!!” She bellowed, waving at my old friend and continued: “he just might have a juicy little workman’s comp settlement in his future. So maybe he can pay off his debt. Oh! Angela, did you know that the net-worth-feature on Castadiva’s AR glasses will also give you how much debt people have?”

Blondie had just joined the group with her steaming coffee cup and sunglasses on, looking like she might well have preferred an intravenous caffeine drip instead. She nevertheless smiled at Maura’s antics.

Angela finished rolling her eyes at Maura:

“First of all honey, you completely destroy the double entendre humor when you pronounce it that way. It’s much more cute if you just say Anita De Kennmey and let people think they might have heard the other thing about the dick. And no, I wasn’t aware of the debt feature. Poor guy, how bad off is he?”

Anita had shuffled over to join our little group with arms outstretched to embrace Maura. My only-San-Francisco-friend-in-LA was well-versed enough in all my emotional states to know something was a bit off with me, but I couldn’t talk about it.

“Oh, not bad at all. It was a trivial amount. I expect to serve each of my guests an amount of wine that exceeds it,” then motioning to me: “And Fashion-Goddess’s sleek glasses themselves probably cost quintuple what he owes…”

As their conversation meandered on I got my head around the meaning of what she’d said: Mr. Cheapsuit. And Chirene. I had scribbled that most enigmatic note down with old fashioned paper and ink in my day-planner thingy and until just this moment I had no inkling of what the Mr. Cheapsuit reference was. But now I understood that it was him. And Chirene? The name of my crying-out-in-agony character from my dream. Whose neighbors were also yelling Candy. They were yelling the names of the two women who lived there. The married couple. Because they heard screams and obviously thought something was terribly wrong.

Had that scene really happened? Or was my mind merely imagining how awful it would be for her to have to go home and sleep alone knowing that her wife had just been abducted? And I didn’t simply write down the name “Mr. Cheapsuit.” My coded symbols around the name which would’ve resembled innocent doodles to anyone else? They meant DANGER. Most extreme danger. For about forty hours since Anita drove me home that night, I mulled over why I would have written a warning for myself about somebody in a cheap suit.

Now it all added up. The cops I couldn’t recall seeing, even though I was seated and facing in the direction Angela described so that I should have seen them. Cheapsuit himself, whom I couldn’t recall but had regarded as important enough to warrant putting on AR glasses – something I abhorred doing – or else Maura had goaded me into putting them on for some silly reason. The fact that my memories had been utterly annihilated. The fact that it happened on a night when some supernatural force was seemingly trying to get me drunk off my ass. And finally, that nightmare!

And was that weirdness with Eileen being around the same kind of art a third of a century later, standing in the same position, somehow connected to all this? Never mind that for now.

What it all added up to was that I had witnessed this woman, Candy, get abducted somehow. And Cheapsuit was most likely involved and quite possibly the one who did it. Then someone had gone to great lengths to erase my memory of it all.

“I’m going to San Francisco on some important business first, Maura,” I told her in what I estimated to be a fairly pleasant tone, “but I can be in New York mid-evening Friday. Was this to be a formal dinner party? Because I probably wouldn’t be able to make it early enough for that and be dressed appropriately for – –”

“Oh no, dear. It’s just a ‘come as you are.’ And so you’ll be taking your Lear then? I’ll have a car waiting where the private plane hangers are, just give my people your pilot’s contact info,” she said head-motioning to Candelario as Anita was still busy giving her a big squeezy hug and making her arms temporarily unavailable, “and they’ll take you to my helicopter which will set you down right on top of my building. No traffic whatsoever.”

Blondie smiled and told her patiently that what I had was a Global now, not a Lear. Their conversation digressed into vintage private jets that their dads had traveled in back when these women were all kids.

As Anita gave me my huggy greeting, she whispered “what’s wrong?” I whispered back “when we’re alone. Later,” eye-motioning to the others and Anita nodded slightly and winked. I could confide in Anita that I was under a lot of stress and I thought it might be affecting my memory, but Amber was the only one who could even remotely have a chance to sort this out, I now realized. Keith and the others would no doubt find it interesting; but yes, Amber would have advice that I’d trust.

Continue on to next section…

If And Only If

by Michelle Viviénne de Vandahlcourte

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

First Edition. © December 16, 2015.

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moonlit-jeno · 3 years

Text

red door, yellow door (m.)

pairing: mark lee x fem reader x jung jaehyun

words: 8.1k

a/n: this is a repost from my old bts blog! pls don’t ask abt it bc i no longer actively follow bts :)

One of these days, you’re going to kill your coworkers.

You love them, you really do, but sometimes they can just be so dumb. It was Donghyuck and Renjun who came up with the idea to play this stupid game, one that is probably only played by naive 12 year old girls during slumber parties.

Normally you’d just brush it off, but Renjun had called you a wimp, so naturally you had to do it. Which is how you’ve ended up on your back with your best friend massaging circles into your forehead.

“Red door, yellow door, any other color door,” is being chanted around the room. You fight the urge to move your neck to a more comfortable position on Mark’s lap. Your hand twitches above your head, where your arms are raised. “This is stupid,” You whisper, and Mark laughs, scolding you lightly.

After a while, the mindless chanting lulls you to sleep, and you feel yourself drift off.

“What do you see?”

Two doors appear in front of you, one red and one yellow. They both look kind of old, paint chipping and peeling off.

“Anything else?”

A black door appears next to the yellow one and you find yourself drawn to it, wanting to go in. This one is shinier, considerable newer and more inviting compared to the other two

“Go in.”

You open the door and walk through, a sense of relief flooding through your senses as you give in to the pull. The room that you find yourself in seems never ending, the only thing in it a large bed.

“Do you see anyone?”

A man appears, sitting on the bed. The suit he’s wearing is unfitting for the plain surroundings- in fact, he’s unfitting for the surroundings in general. His teeth are blinding white when he smiles, not a hair out of place on his entire head. He’s attractive, all golden skin and beautiful features. Almost too beautiful. A shiver crawls up your spine, a tinge of discomfort bleeding into your senses. He smiles, dimples popping out, and you push the discomfort to the back of your mind.

“Who are you?” Your voice comes out distant to your own ears, echoing around you.

“Call me Jaehyun. Why don’t you come here, little bird? We can get properly acquainted.” The voice sounds haunting, like a distorted video. You wouldn’t believe that he’s speaking if his lips didn’t move in sync. Despite the unnatural voice sounding warning bells in your brain, you find yourself moving forward automatically and settling down on his lap when he pats his thigh for emphasis.

“And what’s your name, little bird?” He trails a hand up and down your thigh and you shiver, leaning back against him. He chuckles when you tell him your name, a pleased smile lighting up his features.

“Well, little bird, seems that we’re going to have some fun together.”

Your name is being echoed all around you, and you wake with a jolt, eyes flying open to see Mark staring at you.

“Are you okay?” The rest of your group is also gathered around you, standing in a half circle.

“Yeah, just fell asleep for a bit. Why?” You push yourself onto your elbows, sitting up so that you can lean against Mark.

Donghyuck plops down on the floor, sitting so that he’s facing you. “You were talking like you were having a conversation with someone. Who was it?”

You shrug, trying not to dull his excitement. “I don’t know, just some guy.”

“Was he wearing a suit?” Renjun asks, standing behind Hyuck. He grimaces when you nod. “Y/n, we literally told you not to talk to anyone in a suit. We told you not to talk to anyone. It’s in the rules.”

You roll your eyes, knowing how serious he gets when it comes to stuff like this. “Relax, it’s fine. He seemed nice, and it’s not like it was anything real.”

Renjun still doesn’t look convinced, but Mark interrupts his paranoia by doing what he’s best- or worst, depending on who you ask- at, cracking jokes.

“Hey, was he eating deviled eggs?” He laughs at his own joke, and everyone else groans. “Hey, don’t get mad at me. His place was probably such a hellhole.” The bad mood dissolves into jokes and loud laughter for the rest of the night.

You leave the party- or gathering as Donghyuck had called it because it sounded more mysterious- when it starts storming. The rain drenches you and pretty much everyone else that’s sitting on the porch, leaving you scrambling for shelter. Luckily, Mark offers you a ride.

“Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!” Mark hollars out the window of his truck, his words getting lost in the night as he speeds off. His truck hits a pothole and you can imagine him swearing as his head hits the roof. Giggling to yourself, you unlock your apartment and slip inside. It’s close to 2 in the morning, so you decide that if you’re already not going to get that much sleep, why not binge Shameless?

You only get through two episodes before your eyelids feel heavy, and you have to fight to keep them open. On screen, there’s a bar fight that you try to take interest in, but sleep quickly pulls you under.

“Welcome back, little bird.” The voice is all around you, but no matter how much you turn and search, no one’s to be found.

“Turn around, little bird, I am here.” Spinning abruptly, you come face to face with the man from earlier, Jaehyun. He gives you a chilling grin.

“So we meet again,” he starts, and his voice no longer sounds eerie or inauthentic. He sounds like, well, a normal man. “Tell me, what would you do if I were to kiss you?”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips on instinct. “Depends. Are you a good kisser?” You aim for coy, but you miss the mark and land closer to worried.

“You could say that.” He pulls you close with one hand on the back of your head, stopping right before your lips. “May I?”

You nod, and he pulls you in for a gentle, closed mouth kiss.

It’s like that touch ignites a fire in you, because before you know it, your arms are thrown around his neck, dragging him closer to deepen the kiss. You lick along his lower lip and he readily grants you access, a throaty groan leaving him when you suck on his tongue. Liquid heat courses through your veins when he nips at your lower lip, tongue flicking over it in apology. You moan, raw and needy. He likes that, if the chuckle and wicked grin is anything to go by. Picking you up so that your legs are wrapped around his waist, he walks over to a bed that definitely wasn’t there before.

He drops you on the bed, and then suddenly you’re both naked. Jaehyun leans over you, all lean muscles and golden skin. His cock hangs hard and flushed between his legs, and you have the urge to swallow him down. He groans, as if reading your mind, and then reaches to pump himself slowly, long fingers wrapped around the length. “Not now, little bird, not now. I have something else in mind.” With one gentle push to your shoulders, you’re lying flat on the bed, Jaehyun between your legs. His mouth hovers over your core, already wet and dripping despite not having been touched. He plays idly with the slick on your upper thigh, drawing random patterns into the flesh. His eyes are dark, and you could swear that they’re entirely black, no white visible. He peers curiously up at you from between your legs, watching your reaction as his fingers get closer and closer to where you want him. Your breathing picks up as arousal thrums through your body, center pulsing and aching for some sort of relief.

“May I have you?” His breath ghosts over your center when you speak, the sensation making you even needier.

You nod quickly. “Take it, fuck, you have all of me.” He grins, wasting no time in diving in. His tongue feels impossibly good, licking up your folds and circling over your clit. He leaves sloppy kisses along your core, one hand massaging your thigh and keeping you spread open. You cry out when his tongue pushes into you, his nose brushing your clit and sending sparks up your spine.

His tongue feels impossibly long, so good inside of you that you feel like you’re losing your mind. Your hips buck up desperately, riding his face to hell and back. One arm gets thrown over your stomach to keep you in place while two fingers from his free hand dip into your soaking core, curling into that spot immediately. Stars flash behind your eyes, one hand coming down to fist in Jaehyun’s hair. Your feet scramble frantically along his back, heels digging in in an effort to anchor yourself, toes curling at the sensations singing through you.

You feel your orgasm drawing closer, heat pooling in your center. You whimper brokenly as you try to chase after your high, grinding your hips along his tongue. He lets you, just holding his tongue flat out for you to ride.

You come like that, falling apart on his tongue, screams of his name falling from your lips. He works you through it, tongue gently licking along your folds, slurping up your arousal as if he hasn’t had a meal in weeks.

You lay there, boneless and whimpering weakly through the aftershocks until Jaehyun pulls away to kiss up your body. He licks into your mouth hotly, reminding you that he hasn’t come yet. You bat weakly at his chest, pushing him onto his back. “Your turn,”

He groans in appreciation at the view of you above him. “So perfect, little bird. I’m gonna have so much fun with your soul.”

This sentence freezes you in your spot. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Jaehyun meets your gaze, black eyes entrancing you. “That means, y/n, that I’m going to have your soul. You belong to me now, hmm?” One of his hands plays gently with a strand of your hair. “That’s what you agreed to earlier, no?”

“N-no.” You try backing away, but the inhuman voice from earlier is back, echoing everywhere, repeating his words over and over until you can’t take it anymore-

You wake with a gasp, hitting your head as you sit up. Your computer is still on your lap, episode fifteen playing. Fuck, you’ve only been asleep for forty five minutes. It’s not even three yet, and you don’t have to go to work until eight. Deciding there’s no way you’re falling back asleep, you get up and decide to bake.

Five hours later, your coworkers love you when you show up with containers of cinnamon rolls, five different types of cookies, and a coffee cake. Mark looks mildly worried.

“You okay? I haven’t seen you bake since high school.” You snap out of your thoughts and turn to face Mark. The look of concern on your best friend’s face is enough to make you feel guilty and you nod, forcing a smile onto your face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Had a bad dream last night and couldn’t sleep, that’s all.” You respond, trying not to show how bothered you actually are.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mark leans forward over his desk, chin planted on his hand.

“No, it’s gonna sound dumb.” You whine, shaking your head. And it is dumb, even to you. You’re scared because you had a dream that some man ate you out and then told you he was going to take your soul?

“Well, you always sound dumb. Of course your dreams are gonna be dumb.” Mark laughs as you chuck a piece of cake at him, infectious laugh soothing you. You sigh.

Mark raises his eyebrows at you when you finish telling him your dream. “You’re scared because you had a wet dream? Damn, I’d be living in a nightmare if I was scared after every wet dream I’ve had.”

You kick him under the table. “Mark! It was really scary. He told me he was going to take my soul!”

Upon seeing that you’re actually freaked out, his face softens. “Look, y/n, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You probably just thought that he was hot, and your brain remembered his face and put it in a dream. I wouldn’t worry about it; what’s the worst he’s gonna do, haunt you?”

You give a shaky nod, agreeing. It’s not like something from your dreams could actually harm you. Mark reaches across the desk, taking your hand in his and giving a tight squeeze, warm brown eyes gazing at you openly. “And if something does happen, just remember that I’m your best friend. I’ll be here for you.”

“Thanks, Mark. Means a lot to me.”

He leans back in his seat. “Anytime, anyplace, anything. Triple A.”

You smile, raising an eyebrow. “Anything?”

His eyes go wide, taking in the glint in your eyes. “Within reason.”

“How about a sip of coffee?” You nod down at his cup, pasting a huge smile on your face.

“I did say within reason, so no.”

You huff. “I expected that.”

Although you don’t scare easily, it’s safe to say that you’re a bit unsettled tonight, especially after your nightmare last night. You find yourself jumping at every little noise, hand slamming the light switch on with your pulse racing every five minutes. This has been going on for an hour, and after a final sweep of your room reveals nothing, you decide that maybe a face mask will help you relax.

Your bathroom has two mirrors facing each other, which is normally a blessing when you do your hair, but tonight it does nothing but make you want to hide under your blankets.

Get a grip on yourself, you chastise, grabbing your phone and opening spotify. Maybe some music will help? You click on your Christmas playlist because what better way to cheer up than to think about your favorite holiday?

A mistake, really, because it seems that you’ve forgotten how creepy Santa is.

“He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake,” Yikes. You stop that song in a hurry, feeling anything but comforted. No music then, noted.

You reach for your face wash, turning the sink on and waiting for the water to warm. You can’t help but glance in the mirror behind you every so often, paranoia getting the best of you. Man, you feel pathetic, worrying about monsters in your closet like you’re six and not twenty-six.

You wash your face quickly, hoping that your fears will wash away as well. No such luck.

You swear you see something move behind you after you dry your face off, but there’s nothing there. Shaking it off, you reach for your face mask, taking your time painting your face with the green clay.

It’s after your face is coated that you spot someone in the glass behind you. You scream, whipping around to come face to face with a man. Not just any man- Jaehyun.

Your heart thunders in your chest, eyes widening in fear. He seems to be in the mirror, copying your petrified expression mockingly.

“Hello, little bird.” He purrs, smirking lightly.

“Are you- are you in my mirror?” You’re in disbelief, mind struggling to comprehend this. First you spot him while in a weird trance, then in a dream, and now in your mirror? Maybe you’re having a quarter life crisis.

“No, I am not. Mirrors are just gateways to alternate dimensions. I’m merely using the mirror to visit you.” He says this like it’s common knowledge. It feels like your throat is made of sandpaper with how hard it is to choke out your words. “O-okay. I’m just gonna- yeah.”

You grab your phone from the counter and bolt, fumbling for your keys before jumping into your car and speeding off in the direction of Mark’s house. You call him, fingers fumbling on the screen. He goes to voicemail the first time, and your heart drops. “No, no, no,” you whisper frantically, calling again. He does pick up this time.

“Y/n? It’s the middle of the night.” His voice sounds gruff, and you feel guilty for waking him up. One glance in your rear view mirror reveals that Jaehyun is joining you on this ride, and you scream, car swerving violently to one side before you straighten it out.

“Where are we going, little bird?”

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Mark’s voice has lost its sleepy edge, taking on a concerned tone. He says your name again, more frantic.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Your tires squeal as you make a turn, now only two blocks away. “Can I- can I come over? I really need to be with someone right now.”

“Of course, you know you’re always welcome. The door’s unlocked.”

You hang up, willing the tears in your eyes to not spill over. Finally arriving, you slam on the breaks and haphazardly pull next to a curb, yanking the key out of the ignition and sprinting to Mark’s house.

You lock the door behind you when you step inside, testing the handle as if a door could stop a mirror traveling demon or whatever the fuck Jaehyun was from coming inside. “Mirrors,” you mumble, reaching the stairs.

“Y/n? What’s-” Mark stands at the top of the stairs, one hand rubbing at his eyes. You cut him off, flying up the stairs.

“Mirrors, fuck. Mark, we need to cover the mirrors!” You breeze by his shocked figure, not noticing the way he turns to stare at you incredulously.

“What, why? Y/n, are you crazy?”

Ignoring him, you throw a towel over the mirror in his bathroom, ripping open a pack of bandaids to use as adhesive.

You throw another towel over the mirror in his bedroom, collapsing on his bed when you’re done and finally allowing yourself to sob.

“Y/n, hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” Mark, as gentle and caring as ever, comes over to sit next to you, one hand combing through your hair.

“I- don’t laugh at me.” You stare him straight in the eye, pleading with him. You know you’re going to sound crazy, but you’re praying that your best friend listens to you. He nods, urging you to go on.

“That- that man I saw in my dream and during whatever fucked up game Hyuck had us play? He was in my fucking mirror, Mark. I- the whole night, I had this feeling that I was being watched, and then I went into my bathroom and he was just there, and-” You’re hyperventilating at this point, fighting for every breath, tears clouding your vision. “He was in my car, in the rear view mirror-” Mark pulls you closer, enveloping you in his arms and allowing you to sob loudly into his chest. You cry for a few minutes, until you’re finally able to pull yourself together.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’ve had a rough week, I know. It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay.”

He wipes a tear away from your check, patting you lightly. “Why don’t you go wash this off, okay? We can watch a movie after.” He offers, and until that point, you’d forgotten you were wearing a face mask. You grimace at the green imprint on his black shirt, but he just chuckles. “I’ll go grab you some water in the meantime.”

Nodding, you garner up the energy to walk to his bathroom. It’s fine, the mirror’s covered, he can’t hurt you. You close the door just in case, wanting an extra level of protection

You rinse your face with cold water, hoping that it will clear your mind. You give your face a couple more splashes before drying off with a towel.

“You missed a spot on your forehead.” You freeze before looking around wildly. There’s no one around, which can only mean that Jaehyun can still see you. Swallowing, you start the water again, rubbing at your forehead.

“And your left cheek.” You rub at the skin, being way too harsh but you excuse it considering your situation. “No, your other left. My left.”

“Jesus,” You growl in annoyance, reaching up to rip the towel down. Sure enough, there’s a splotch of green on your cheek. Jaehyun’s nowhere to be found. Maybe I am losing my mind.

You finish rinsing the mask off, finding some face lotion buried in Mark’s drawer, screaming bloody murder when Jaehyun appears in the mirror again. “Looking for me?”

“No! Leave me alone!” You cry, head spinning. Jaehyun fakes a pout, holding a hand over his heart in mock hurt. Do demons even have hearts?

“Ouch, little bird. You don’t want to finish what we started the other night? When I had you moaning so pretty, so wet for me. I’m sure your pussy would take me so well, hmm?” Your heart rate kicks up again, but for a different reason this time. You almost moan, thinking about the dream.

Because he was right, you had been so wet. The want comes back full forces, slamming into you like a truck. You remember how needy you were, wanting to suck his cock so bad, wanting him to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow. All fear that you previously had is slowly disappearing, fading into lust.

The demon smiles knowingly. “Ah, little bird, so you do remember. Remember how you promised me that you’re mine?”

You nod, eyes glazing over. You’re wet, panties starting to stick to your throbbing core uncomfortably.

“Mmmh, I bet you’re already dripping for me. Just waiting for me to come out and fill you up.”

Hearing your name leave his lips sends a wave of arousal crashing through you so strong that your knees buckle, grabbing onto the counter for support. He chuckles, but whatever he’s about to say is cut off by Mark.

“What were you say-” Your best friend trails off, eyes wide as he observes the scene. You snap out of your haze at the interruption. His mouth parts in shock. “You really weren’t kidding, shit.” He laughs humorlessly.

Then, quick as lightning, he rears back and punches the mirror. You scream in surprise at the crack, shards falling to the floor.

You and Mark both stare at the broken shards of glass on the ground, gleaming under the lights. “Mark,” You start, trailing off once you realize you have nothing to say. He seems to understand, walking forward until he’s close enough to pull you into a hug. You feel tears start to slide down your cheeks, dampening the cotton of your best friends shirt. You hug him closer, burying your face into his broad chest. He wraps himself around you, and you let yourself be lulled into the sense of security that his larger frame brings you. A sense of security that vanishes once you hear a low chuckle that definitely does not belong to Mark.

You both scream, leaping backwards and away from the noise. Jaehyun stands there, just in front of the door, with a shit eating grin on his face. You cower behind Mark, who is wrapping a protective arm around you while simultaneously trying to hide behind you.

“I really must thank you for finally setting me free. Normally I have to wait for some asshole with a ouija board, but then there’s just so many other demons that I have to compete with. So I just stick to the dream world-” He pauses to wink at you for emphasis “-but this is so much more fun.” His eyes are black, and you can’t tell where he’s looking. Swallowing, you clutch onto Mark’s arm for dear life.

The demon seems to regard the two of you for a moment, before his amusement seems to grow. He begins to move forward.

“Ah, Mark Lee. Lovely name for a stupid boy. Didn’t you know breaking a mirror is bad luck?” By this point, you and Mark are flattened against the wall, while Jaehyun stands less than a foot away from the two of you. There’s nowhere to run. This is it, you think, this is how I die.

Jaehyun chuckles, turning to you. You lower your gaze to the ground; it hurts to make eye contact with him. “No, little bird. This isn’t how you die, don’t worry.”

Then he’s backing away from the two of you, motioning to follow him. The logical part of your brain is screaming not to, but you find yourself drawn to him, legs carrying you after him without your consent, Mark clutching your arm tightly as he walks next to you.

Jaehyun seems to know the layout of the house, leading you straight into Mark’s bedroom. The demon grabs a chair from the desk and spins it around, straddling it so that he’s facing the bed.

He motions lazily. “Go on now, have a seat. Get comfortable.”

You find yourself sitting down on the edge of the bed, following his words like marching orders. Mark sits about half a foot away from you. Jaehyun shakes his head. “No, no, no. That won’t do. I said to get comfortable, did I not?” He raises an eyebrow as if daring you to argue with him. “Go lay down at the head board.”

You crawl to the head of the bed, settling so that you’re on your side, facing the demon. Mark follows suit, pulling you close to him so that you’re spooning. Jaehyun lets out a pleased hum. “Much better. Aren’t you much more comfortable now?” Nodding, you realize that you actually are more comfortable. It’s not just the change of position, but the energy in the room as well. The demon is no longer giving off a threatening aura. It’s more relaxed, maybe even happy? He certainly looks more relaxed, probably as happy as a demon can get, if not a little smug.

Your body is pulsing with energy, and it takes you a moment to place what you’re feeling. The earlier need to run that you had felt has been replaced with another need, albeit further down. Your thighs clench as another surge of heat pulses through your core, and your face warms at the realization. Why now, of all times, are you horny?

Jaehyun’s grin broadens as he seems to sense your dilemma. “Oh, little bird, if only you knew. Tell me, what type of demon do you think I am?” He watches you curiously, black eyes staring into your soul.

You try to tilt your head towards Mark, but the position’s too awkward and you only catch a glimpse of the side of his face. He looks a bit flushed from what you can see, teeth digging into his plush bottom lip, teeth that you could easily replace with your own- you blink, dazedly. What the fuck? Sexual thoughts about your best friend? That’s a new one. Even if you’ve noticed that he’s hot, you’d never thought about him sexually. Now, though, you can feel the hardness of his dick against your ass, and you can’t help but think about how good he could fuck you.

“Incubus,” You finally manage, blinking rapidly to clear the haze of your vision. Jaehyun grins, looking genuinely surprised that you’d gotten it right.

“Good girl. Make a little sense now?” You nod, fighting a moan as Mark starts to rock against you, slowly, as if he’s unconsciously doing it. Jaehyun notices.

“How about you, Mark? You doing alright over there?”

Your friend, your best friend, buries his face in your neck and groans, deep and delicious. It sends another surge of heat through your body, the growing need between your legs pulsing pathetically. “What are you doing to us?” The words are growled behind you, vibrating against the skin where his lips are pressed.

“Oh no, Mark, I’m not doing anything to you. The only thing I can do to you is make you realize your desires. Your deepest, darkest fantasies? I make that happen. Finally being able to fuck the girl you’ve been in love with for years? I make that happen.” The words take a minute to register with you, but you stiffen when the meaning hits you. Mark Lee, in love with you? An unlikely story, bordering impossible.

The demon chuckles at your inner turmoil, rolling his eyes at how dumb humans can be. “You too, y/n. You love Mark, even if you won’t admit it. You let the idea that he was too good for you scare you away from him. Do you not remember how often you thought of him, late at night after first meeting him?”

You groan in protest, not because it’s not true, but because you do remember. It had been so long ago. When you hadn’t known Mark, had only known of him. You pull away from Mark, awkwardly pushing him to lay flat against the pillows while you clamber on top of him.

“Mark, is it true? Do you love me?” You hold his face between your hands, staring into his eyes. He meets your gaze, pupils blown and eyes half lidded. He nods as best he can.

“So, so much.” Mark’s voice comes out raspy, matching his flushed skin. You lean down to kiss him, uncaring of the other presence in the room. Mark moans when your lips make contact, hands pulling you to straddle him. Your eyelids flutter at the feeling of his clothed cock against your center, rocking your hips to try to ease the throb of your core. His hands fly to your ass, pulling and kneading at the flesh as he urges you into a harsher pace.

The kiss is rougher, needier now, open mouthed and panting. Mark’s got his tongue tangled with yours, sucking in such a way that sends waves of heat through you. You want him in you, any part of him really.

Jaehyun seems to agree, speaking up from right next to you. You jump, having forgotten he was there although he’s the reason you’re like this in the first place.

“Let’s get the show on the road. As much as I’m enjoying this, I think we’d all enjoy something else a little more.” The demon reaches for the hem of your shirt and you nod, raising your arms above your head to let him pull the garment off. Mark groans at the newly revealed skin, hands going to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra. “Fuck,” He whines, staring in awe at your chest. He doesn’t waste time before leaning up to kiss along your cleavage, pulling the bra down to expose your breasts. Another set of hands unclasp the bra before traveling down your torso to rub circles into your hip bones, sliding your sleeping shorts and panties off at the same time. Jaehyun throws the shorts somewhere off the bed. He keeps the panties, a pleased sigh leaving him as he appreciates the ruined fabric.

“Fuck, little bird. You’re really enjoying this,” He comments, as if he isn’t a fucking lust demon that can sense these kinds of things. You don’t voice your thoughts, because Mark chooses this moment to suck a nipple into his mouth, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin so that all you can do is moan. “You’ve even ruined your panties. They’re soaked.”

He hands the strip of lace to Mark, who lets out a throaty groan at the sight. “You’re not getting these back.” He informs you, slipping the garment into his bedside drawer. You ignore him, instead tugging insistently at his shirt. He takes pity on you, grabbing the collar and yanking the baggy tee over his head.

You let your hands slide down his chest in admiration, feeling the hard lines of his muscles. You lick your lips at how broad his shoulders are, how strong he looks. Jaehyun doesn’t give you much time to enjoy the view, gliding two fingers along your slit before circling around your little nub. A cry of pleasure leaves you to mindlessly press your face into Mark’s collarbone, nipping and sucking the flesh until you’re sure you’ve left a bruise.

Jaehyun slips the two fingers into your aching core, curling and dragging them so well along your walls. Sparks of electricity flow through your veins, heat pooling in your center.

Mark groans from below you. Looking down, you see that you’ve unconsciously dug your nails into his hard chest in an effort to ground yourself. You remove your hands, only to spot little red half crescents littered over his skin. You rub your palms over the marks as if to soothe them, but it seems that the man wasn’t groaning from pain.

“Y/n” He sounds so fucked out, voice hoarse and raw even though hardly anything has happened yet. “You look so good like this, so perfect for me.” He brings one large hand up to cup your cheek, thumb delicately stroking over your cheekbone before moving down to trace your lower lip. You part your lips, letting him slide in before sucking around the digit, tongue curling around it as if it were his cock. His eyes darken a fraction, tongue coming out to wet his lips, swollen and kiss bitten.

You moan around the digit as Jaehyun adds a third finger, stretching your walls so pleasantly that you can’t help but buck your hips back for more. A whine forces its way out of your throat as the demon pulls his fingers out of you, leaving an empty ache between your thighs.

“Don’t you think it would be more fun if she was sucking on something a bit bigger than your finger, Mark?” The voice startles you, breath tickling your ear as he speaks. The man under you nods, swallowing thickly. Your eyes are drawn to the way his Adam’s apple bobs with the movement, and a gush of wetness pulses down below. Your thighs are probably covered in your arousal at this point.

You scoot down his body, trailing kisses and bites down his toned stomach. You take your time unzipping his pants, sucking a mark into the soft skin below his navel. He’s hard as a rock, and you moan in appreciation at the sheer size of him once you shimmy his jeans down his thighs.

“No underwear?” You ask, mouth curling up in a teasing smirk. He huffs out a laugh, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can watch. “No, ‘s too restricting.”

You lazily pump his dick, thumb flicking over the tip once or twice. You plan to tease him more, but then Jaehyun’s pushing your head down and you have no choice but to open your mouth wide, innocent eyes peeking up at Mark as you take his cock in your mouth. He’s so big that you can’t take him in all the way, keeping one hand curled around his cock to stroke what your mouth can’t reach. You let it get sloppy, using your spit to ease the glide until you’ve got a pleasant rhythm going. Mark replaces Jaehyun’s hands with his own, gathering strands of your hair in his palms and using that grip to control your pace. “F-fuck,” He lets out a shaky exhale, letting his head fall back against the pillows once he’s satisfied with the pace.

Jaehyun slaps your ass, a loud smack sounding throughout the room. You moan, pitching forward onto Mark’s cock and gagging as he hits the back of your throat. A strangled cry leaves the man above you, his hips thrusting even further into the tight, wet heat of your mouth.

The demon kneads your stinging flesh before using his grip on you to pull your hips up. “Good girl,” You keen under his praises, sticking your ass up even higher. The warm, wet pressure against your center has you faltering, moaning almost violently around Mark’s cock. He doesn’t seem to be having any complaints, the vibrations forcing a moan of his own out.

Your eyes roll up into your head as Jaehyun wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. You’re sure you’d be screaming by now if Mark’s cock wasn’t halfway down your throat. You’ve given up sucking him off by this point, content to let the man fuck your mouth while Jaehyun sucks your fucking soul out from between your legs. It feels so good, not used to being the center of even one man’s focus, let alone two.

Mark eases you off of his cock after you accidentally bite him, using your spit to ease the slide as he lazily fucks up into his loose fist. You rest your head on his thigh, alternating between moaning wantonly and mouthing messily against the skin as you feel your orgasm approach.

Jaehyun pulls away at the last second, and you whine loudly as your orgasm is cut off. The feeling of frustration leaves you close to tears, and you jiggle your ass in hopes that it will regain his attention. It does momentarily, as Jaehyun lands a harsh smack on the flesh, but he pulls away again.

“Mark,” The man in question looks up, hand freezing on his dick as if waiting for Jaehyun’s orders. And fuck, what a sight that would be: your normally brash and confident friend being so pliant and submissive to a near stranger… You blink out of it, feeling mildly ashamed even in your current state. Luckily, Jaehyun interrupts your thoughts. “I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let you go first. You’ve been waiting long enough for this, anyway.”

Mark nods eagerly, pulling you into a desperate kiss. You paw at every inch of skin you can reach, searching for a release from the ache inside of you. Your wish is granted when he hooks two fingers in your soaking cunt, groaning at how wet you are. He scissors you open quickly, hissing at how tight you feel.

“Ready, angel? Want my cock?” The pet name has you moaning, though it draws a low chuckle from Jaehyun, who’s watching from his position next to Mark.

“Hurry up, already. Need you in me, ‘ve waited so long.”

Mark lights up at this, smile stretching his features. He looks so breathtaking in this moment, skin glowing and flushed, hair mussed up, eyes blown wide and half lidded.

“I’m yours,” He breathes, leaning up for one last kiss. His hands slide down to your hips, pulling you forward so that you’re hovering above his thick cock. “Ride me baby.”

“I’d love to.” Reaching one hand down to position him at your entrance, you start to lower yourself down. Of course, Jaehyun chooses this exact moment to stop you. He truly is the spawn of Satan.

“Little bird, hold on just a second. I found something of interest in the back of Markie’s brain.” You cringe as he mocks your earlier nickname for the man. “What’s this I’m seeing, Mark? You like it up the ass?” His tone is teasing, but Mark groans in embarrassment. His face has gone an alarming shade of red by this point. “N-no,” He tries to deny, sputtering excuses but Jaehyun cuts him off with a press of a finger to his lips. “Oh, Mark, don’t get shy on me now. It’s a perfectly fine thing to like. Little bird, you’ll get your turn in a minute. You,” He snaps his fingers at Mark. “Come here. Kneel up, just like that. Perfect.” He appraises Mark’s ass for a moment, hands moulding the flesh before slipping a finger in. Mark’s eyebrows furrow, and you shoot up in alarm. “Doesn’t he need lube?”

Jaehyun looks at you, surprised that you care, before chuckling. “I can produce lube. Perks of being a lust demon.” Winking at you, he returns his focus to Mark. You can’t see what he’s doing, but the pure pleasure present on your best friends face has you clenching your thighs together, waves of need crashing through you. If you thought he looked good before, he looks absolutely gone now. Breathless groans are leaving him now, eyelids fighting to stay open as he sinks down on the others fingers. You watch him, mesmerized, before shuffling over to him.

“How close are you?”

He forces his gaze down to you. “Kind of- nngh- close, w-why?”

Wrapping a hand around his base lightly, you start stroking. “Will you come if I blow you?”

He moans, a punched out sound that takes you by surprise. “Fuck, yes, I’ll definitely come if you blow me.” You pout in disappointment. Upon seeing your crestfallen expression, he continues. “Maybe we c-can- oh, yes- figure something out. Jaehyun,” He turns his head back behind him, struggling to get the words out between moans. “Can I eat y/n out?”

There’s just something so hot about Mark asking for permission from someone else that you can’t help the whimper that escapes you. Jaehyun must nod, because then you’re being laid back, Mark settling between your thighs. He’s sucking sweet kisses into your core almost immediately, pulling your legs over his shoulders to give him better access. You’re letting out sharp cries of pleasure the whole time, eyes fighting the urge to roll back in your head in favor of watching Mark between your legs. A particularly well placed flick of his tongue has your hips rolling against his face, grasping the sheets in your hand as your mind blanks. The pleasure climbing through your system is insane, threatening to burn you from the inside out.

It only gets better once Mark starts moaning, his sinful mouth sending sweet vibrations traveling up your core. You manage to catch sight of Jaehyun behind him, kissing wetly along his shoulders and neck, features curving into a smirk once he notices you watching him.

“Little bird likes this, hmm? Like watching another man pleasure your boyfriend while he pleases you?” You hum, unable to tear yourself away from his gaze, unable to even think, letting his boyfriend comment slide. Whereas before it hurt to look directly into his eyes, you now find yourself getting lost in his dark orbs. It’s like a drug, your pleasure being amplified by the man, demon, whatever in front of you.

You finally break eye contact, head falling back against the mattress as Mark draws you closer and closer to your peak. Burying one hand in his hair, you use the leverage to grind your core against his face, chasing your sweet release. “C-close, Mark, please-” You don’t know what you’re begging for at this point. It’s too much but not enough at the same time. Jaehyun saves you from having to decide by cruelly ripping your orgasm away from you, again, dragging Mark’s face away from your pussy.

A few tears slip down your face at this point, frustration reaching its peak. Jaehyun wipes the tears away, laughing lowly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get what you desire soon.”

He must pull out of Mark, because your friend whimpers before seeming to realize what he just did and clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Mark, would you like to fuck our little bird now?” Mark nods, tongue flicking out to wet dry lips.

Jaehyun smirks. “Good. On your back. Y/n, ride him.” You don’t have to be told twice. You scramble onto your knees, wasting no time in straddling Mark before dropping yourself down on him. You both moan in satisfaction, you at finally being filled and Mark at your tightness. You have to brace both hands on his chest, almost collapsing at the overwhelming relief you feel. Beyond the burn of the stretch, his cock filling you up so nicely, there’s a sweet pleasure, a satisfaction.

You don’t wait very long to adjust, grinding your hips in smooth circles before lifting yourself off of him and dropping yourself back down. You quickly start a rhythm of you bouncing on his cock, eyes rolling at how fucking big he feels in you.

Mark’s hands are locked in a vice grip on your ass, fingers digging into the supple flesh and using his grip to urge you into a faster pace.

Jaehyun decides to join, coming up behind you to kiss at your neck, one hand reaching up to your mouth. “Suck,” He commands, slipping two fingers past your willing lips. You do, hollowing your cheeks and slurping around the digits, wishing that it was his dick. He hums behind you, bringing the wet digits down to your entrance, finding your clit with ease and rubbing fast circles into the little nub. You moan even louder now, feeling yourself speed towards your climax. You’ve been on edge for too long, you can’t hold on anymore.

“You close, little bird? Going to come on Mark’s cock? Gonna make him fill you up, pound into that dirty cunt?” His words get to you, your head falling back against his shoulder once more.

“Yes, yes! Oh, please, please-” He cuts off your mindless rambling by pulling you in for a kiss, one that you melt into. This is the first time he’s kissed you, and you’re quite upset that you hadn’t kissed him earlier. It’s a hot kiss, lots of tongue and teeth. It heightens your pleasure immensely, and you can’t stop kissing him. You suck on his tongue filthily, and oh, he must like that if the resulting groan is anything to go by. Even when he goes to pull away, you won’t let him, one hand fisting in his hair to keep him close. He seems to be speeding up your release, if that were even possible. Your mind feels hazier now, every sensation heightened, core screaming for release. You feel your orgasm twisting painfully at your insides, pulsing before finally exploding. The intensity of it rips a scream out of your throat, nails scratching across Mark’s chest as Jaehyun licks even deeper into your mouth, drinking up the noises you make.

When you come down, Mark is still thrusting desperately up into you, though he stops at the demons command. “From behind,” You hear Jaehyun say, but everything’s hazy at this point. Your mind is still fuzzy from your orgasm, and it’s like watching through a screen. Like you’re high, though you hadn’t had anything the whole day.

Mark manhandles you into position, hands and knees with your ass raised high in the air. He leaves one gentle kiss on your shoulder blade before relentlessly pounding into you, cock hitting even deeper in this position. Jaehyun kneels in front of you, pulling your face in towards his cock. You moan around him as he slips inside, mouth not quite burning at the stretch like Mark, though the demon still has you gagging. His cock has the same effect on you as his kisses did, and you feel addicted. You’re slurping and sucking and moaning around him, not wanting the intense pleasure to stop. You barely hear the kissing above you, taking far too long to register that Jaehyun has pulled Mark into a messy kiss above you. The image has you moaning even more wantonly, ass pushing back against Mark.

The kiss seems to have a similar effect on the man, because then he’s slamming into you at an even more relentless rate, moans higher and more frequent before he’s coming with a shout, finally filling you up. Your core pulses again at the feeling, and you suck at Jaehyun’s dick with renewed vigor. His hands fist in your hair, keeping you still so that he can fuck your mouth as hard as he wants. You relish in the feeling of your throat being fucked raw, spit dripping out of your mouth and down his cock. He lets out a deep groan, hips slamming deep one last time as he finishes. His cum seems to ignite a fire within you, because you’re coming almost simultaneously with him, despite not even being touched.

You collapse afterwards, dragging yourself to Mark and letting him drape himself over you. You let yourself drift off to sleep, sated and still riding the high.

The demon kisses each of you one last time, drinking in the last remaining parts of your soul, watching as the two humans take their last breaths. “Thanks for the meal, lovelies.” He chuckles, petting your head almost affectionately before walking out into the night sky, not sparing a single glance back.

#mark smut #mark lee smut #jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #super m smut #nct u smut #gonna delete any asks abt bts or the old blog so pls dont send any lol #not for bad reasons or anythnig i just dont have anything to say abt them #ummm ok i did edit this but it was originally jin and hoseok so if you see their names that's an accident my b #anyways enjoy kdjsnfj

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Long Time Coming

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,664 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, Reader has a few one night stands, Semi-public sex, Unprotected sex, Blow jobs/Face fucking, Hairpulling, Fingering, Praise and degradation, Dirty talk, Accidental reveal of feelings, TW blood/cut Summary: You have been in lust (and love) with Aaron for a while, but his new look sends you off the deep end, and it's enough to make you do some pretty crazy things. *Inspired by @ssamorganhotchner and these three pics. Link to A03 or read below! You are fresh off yet another unsuccessful first date when Aaron wears the new suit. You, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are standing by the coffee maker, complaining about the pitfalls of online dating and how people are never they way they seem when you actually meet in person; you have the carafe in your hand, filling your mug, and when he walks in, face in a case file, his pants so tight you can make out his hips and thighs as clearly as if he were naked… You kind of lose your shit. And your grip.

The carafe shatters when it hits the tile floor, spraying shards of glass and hot coffee everywhere; Emily gasps, Penelope jumps back to avoid the splatter, JJ runs for a broom, and you just stand there, staring at Aaron—at his tight slacks, at his belt, at his shirt, tucked neatly inside, then at his dangling tie, and finally, his worried face.

“Are you alright?” he asks, because you have literally not moved a muscle since he arrived; your boots are covered in coffee—you are thankful you dressed casually today and aren’t wearing heels, or you’d be in a lot of pain—and your heart is racing, but otherwise you feel frozen, unable to move or look away.

You’ve wanted Aaron for a long time, and everyone knows it but him. It’s part of the reason you’re smothering yourself with online hookups and blind dates and one night stands: because he is off limits, and you’re desperately horny for him, and you need to have him fucked out of your mind one way or another.

The new suit further complicates things.

“Fine,” you say after a few more seconds, and JJ comes back with the broom and dustpan, so you bend down to help her clean up your mess. It wasn’t your brightest idea, because you are now at eye level with the tight crotch of his pants, and all you can think of is working the zipper open, pulling him carefully past the fly, sucking him off until those big hands slip into your hair and tug roughly when he comes.

God. You’re going to have to go on another bad date. Or ten.

“New suit?” Penelope asks conversationally, as if you aren’t having a sexual crisis about it three feet away. “Looks good, boss.” Aaron runs his hand down his body self-consciously, but all you see are thick fingers and stomach and hnnngg…

JJ pinches the back of your arm hard, makes a face that screams get it together!!, and you take a deep breath.

“I took some of my old ones in for alterations and the salesman convinced me they were severely outdated. Do you like this style better?”

For some reason, it feels like he’s looking right at you, and you nod, dreamy-eyed, sweep your tongue over your lips.

“Better,” you rasp, and Emily and Penelope agree, probably to take the emphasis off of your slack mouth and dopey one-word answers. You try to help JJ clean up, picking up the larger pieces of glass and dropping them into the dustpan despite her protests—because you are very unfocused, shouldn’t be messing with sharp objects—and when you cut your finger on a piece, she just sighs. Such a mom.

You wince, and Aaron frowns, comes toward you, putting you not only at dick height, but a manageable dick distance, if you were so inclined; really, it’s more if he were so inclined, because you are actually fully prepared to swallow his load right here in front of your friends—all he’d have to do would be snap his fingers and point to his crotch, and the FBI would be suing you for mental distress and using the money to pay for therapy for Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” he says, snapping you out of your very elaborate fantasy (typically your fantasies don’t involve court costs, but this is Aaron, so anything is possible.) He wraps his hand around your injured finger and pulls you up to standing with the other, and you just follow along as he leads you over to the sink, turns on the tap to let the water run over your cut. The way you’re looking up at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen has to be painfully obvious, but he just reaches over for the first aid kit, takes out a bandage, and wraps it carefully around the tip of your finger. You sigh.

It may have started out as lust, but you’re pretty sure you’re also in love.

You have got to find a way to get him to notice you as more than just an agent, a teammate, a friend, and so: Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ begins. You fill the girls in on your master plan, and they fill in Derek and Spencer just so there are more people to laugh at you when you crash and burn, probably. But you’ve got a plan, will be pulling out all the stops, so you might not fail horribly after all. Hopefully.

God, you absolutely cannot fail. You can’t go out with another software engineer with the personality of a peanut or another investment banker who thinks buying you an appetizer means you owe him a blow job in the front seat of his Tesla. You will go fucking insane.

Today’s plan is T for tits, because yours are pretty awesome and almost no one who is attracted to women can resist them. You wear your usual white button down top, but you leave the top two buttons undone, and you add a red, lacy bra for a little additional temptation.

“Here are those consults you asked for,” you say after knocking lightly on the doorframe; Aaron waves you inside. You set them down on his desk, then glance over the open folder in front of him, make a curious noise. “What are you working on up here?”

You walk around his desk, so you’re standing next to him, and lean forward to look over the case file with one hand on the back of his chair and the other pressed against the desk. If he would look over, he would see right down your top, your breasts high and smushed together thanks to the lacy push up… but he looks straight down at the file, taps his pen against it.

“Murders in Detroit. I don’t think we’ll go—they look like mob hits to me, so I’m going to refer the case to Organized Crime.” You hum, turn the file toward you and lean in a little closer, letting your hair spill over your shoulder, the neck of your blouse fall open. Boobs and perfume are usually a one-two punch that is capable of bringing any man to his knees, and while he does turn to look at you, it feels entirely too respectful for your liking. You sigh softly, give up for today, and turn the file back.

“Well you know best, boss. Any time I don’t have to go to Detroit is alright by me.” You flash him a smile, and he reciprocates, and you head back downstairs for a cup of coffee and maybe a stale shame pastry.

The team looks up at you when you approach, and you shake your head.

“No luck,” you mutter, and Derek laughs, crosses his arms over his chest.

“Maybe you’re not very good at flirting. What did you do?” You roll your eyes—your flirting is not the problem, it’s Aaron’s morals and manners or whatever—and walk over to Spencer’s desk, demonstrate with him what you did to Aaron; you put your hand on the back of his chair, toss your hair over your shoulder, lean in, and Spencer swallows hard, licks his lips, and looks abruptly down at his hands. That reaction, you would have gladly taken.

Derek clears his throat, and so does Emily. Hmm.

“I’m good at flirting,” you say, straightening up; Spencer is blushing, and it’s super cute, so you pat him lightly on the head. “Maybe he’s an ass man. I’ll wear a skirt tomorrow and we’ll see if that gets the job done.”

“Good idea,” Derek says, and when you walk past him, he gives you a once over that makes you feel pretty damn good. “In the meantime, why don’t you come and demonstrate on me?”

There’s no denying he is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen in your life, and earlier on in your career you might have taken him up on it—it would have to be better than Marty McTesla, that’s a given—but you know he’s mostly teasing, even if there is a thin layer of actual desire beneath it all. You just fluff your hair and take your seat and mentally flip through your closet to try to come up with an outfit Aaron can’t refuse. You decide on a pencil skirt, because that’s got to be every boss's fantasy, right? You have one you never wear to the office because it’s a little sexy, tight on your hips and ass, with a zipper up the back that you can open a little and use to your advantage. When you walk into the bullpen that morning, JJ whistles, and you grin, do a little twirl.

“Thank you, thank you. This has to work, right?” You turn to face Emily, then turn away from Emily, butt right in her face. “Emily? This will work, right?”

“That’s... definitely going to work,” she murmurs, tapping the cap of her pen against her teeth, and you have to admit you have a good feeling about this one. For as great as breasts are, your ass is your best asset, and if the open top and red bra didn’t work, this has to be your ticket to some sweet, dirty loving, it just has to.

You all head up for the morning meeting, filing into the briefing room, and you give Aaron a soft greeting and a smile just like every day, and then offer to help him pass out whatever stack of papers he’s holding in his hands—fire drills and emergency protocol, or something boring like that. He accepts the help, and you take the fliers, but instead of walking around and handing them to each member of the team like he would, you bend over the table, reach across, and drop the pages in front of everyone.

JJ is the furthest away, and you practically have to climb onto the table to reach her; you grin and wink when she takes the papers out of your hand, and she shakes her head like you’re too much, but when you stand back up to hand Aaron the extras, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested.

He thanks you for your help, and you take your seat and listen to him go on about emergency exits and fire extinguishers and seriously start to contemplate moving to Europe to start a new life, or something else equally dramatic.

Because you don’t give up easily, you orchestrate one more attempt to get him to show some interest in you. You know he usually goes downstairs to the cafeteria for lunch, and that the elevator is a jam-packed nightmare because the main stairwell is currently under construction (which is probably why you needed to go over safety protocol, now that you think about it; shutting down the stairwell seems very unsafe.) You usually pack your lunch, but you can go buy an overpriced salad for the sake of your sex drive, so you wait for the elevator when he does, making small talk about your mornings until it dings and arrives on your floor.

He tries to let you in first, gentleman that he is, but that won’t work with your plan, so you insist, earning eye rolls from the other passengers on the elevator. You give Amy from Forensic Accounting a dirty look and then step in after him, lean back against him because there’s really no fucking room to even take a breath.

He’s taller than you, but with heels on your ass still fits pretty nicely against his thighs; a little too nicely, you think, as you get wet just from standing near him in the elevator, the heat of his body through your skirt. You really are a mess.

There are two more floors to go before the cafeteria, and no one gets off, but more people manage to cram into the elevator, which means you press more tightly against him to make room. Someone bumps into you roughly, which makes you unsteady on your feet; Aaron puts his hands low on your hips to keep you from wobbling, and your eyes literally roll back in your head, but he just leans in to mutter, “sorry” into your ear. You say nothing, because you’d probably moan if you opened your mouth, but you shake your head so he knows it’s not a problem.

When everyone gets off downstairs, you hurry to the restroom and don’t look back, turn on the faucet and splash some cold water against your overheated neck and chest. So much for that plan. All you managed to do was work yourself up into a fury.

While you’re in line to pay for your overpriced salad, you open up your dating app and secure yourself drinks with a hot lawyer for tonight. Seduction is clearly not working with Aaron, he’s clearly not interested, and you have to find a way to move on before you have a spontaneous workplace orgasm and get fired from the job you love—all of his tight new suits have been dark so far, but if he shows up in gray, you’re not going to have the will to survive anymore. You have to plan for the worst.

The lawyer is nice enough, but he’s too short, too thin; it’s hard to imagine Aaron’s body weight on top of you when he’s fucking you, but you’re nothing if not resourceful, so you move your hands to his head of thick, dark hair and focus on that—that, and his hot breath against your throat when he comes a little too soon and mutters “sorry” into your ear.

“It’s okay,” you pant, reaching between you to rub your clit. You close your eyes, tip your head back, clench around him; you imagine it’s Aaron inside you instead, and bury your face in his shoulder when you come.

He’s willing to stay, but you explain why it’s better if he leaves, and then you fall back into bed, fumble for your vibrator, and get off again so you’re not too distracted by reality to really enjoy your fantasy.

It’s a little twisted, but it is what it is. You’re standing in the breakroom a few days later, swiping through the dating app and bullshitting with Derek and Penelope, when this guy pops up on your screen. He’s not your usual type, younger and blonder than you prefer these days, a pilot, but something about his profile makes you pause; when it hits you, you blow out a breath and look up at your friends.

“So you guys know Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ is officially dead in the water,” you begin, and they nod, “and now I’m focusing my energy on trying to get over him. I went on a date with a guy that kind of looked like him, and that didn’t really help, but what if…” You turn your screen to face them; Derek nods like it might be crazy enough to work, but Penelope grimaces.

“No, I don’t think that’s going to work. It might actually be crossing a line,” she says with a frown, and you look to Derek for his input.

“It’s more of a coincidence than anything, right? It’s not like he’s unattractive and this is the only reason you’re going out with him. He’s a good looking guy,” he admits, and you’re really grateful he’s willing to help you rationalize this probably terrible idea into a potentially decent idea.

You send the pilot a message, and he wants to meet up; he suggests a bar near the both of you, and you know it’s risky, but you tell him you happen to make a great gin and tonic and that you have everything you need at home, if he’d like to meet you there instead.

He does, and you don’t even make him that drink, just take off his clothes, get him into your bed.

“That’s right, babe—wanna hear you lose it for me. Say my name, gorgeous,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you from behind, and you close your eyes, fist your hands in the sheets, and give him what he wants.

“Oh, fuck, Aaron. Fuck me harder.” His thrusts are already rough and punishing, but this is the best you’ve felt in a really long time, so you’re eager, desperate for more. “Yeah, Aaron, just like that.”

“Tell me my big cock feels so good in your pussy.” He slaps your ass, and you moan involuntarily, press back against him, panting.

“Your big cock feels so good, Aaron, so good in my pussy. Fuck me, Aaron, destroy me.” He grunts, tenses, and moves his hands to your shoulders, slamming your body tight against his as he comes. “Yes, don’t stop, Aaron, don’t stop,” you plead, hips working together, and when he smacks your ass again you come gasping his name, collapsing against the bed with a breathless sigh.

You feel a lot dirtier than you expected you would, even though it was kind of awesome, and ultimately Penelope was right; it was fun while it lasted, but it didn’t do a damn thing to help you forget about the only Aaron you actually want in your bed. Monday morning, Aaron comes into the office wearing a tight navy suit with a striped white shirt and a navy tie, and you follow him with your eyes from the glass double doors all the way up to his office, mouth open a little. Your eyes get heavy and your breathing picks up, which is the dumbest biological reaction to a man’s ass you’ve ever had—but god, it’s a perfect ass—and JJ has to actually lightly slap your cheek to get you to snap the fuck out of it.

“Are you horny right now?” she asks, a little grossed out. “I can’t handle you.”

“I know you guys all call him a tightass, but I mean, if the pants fit… and god, do they fit.” You pick up a case file and fan yourself with it. “He’s so fucking hot. What am I supposed to do? Getting railed by fake Aaron didn’t do shit; I think I might actually have to transfer.”

“You’re not transferring. You just have to get over it.”

“Are you kidding? She’s like a cat in heat when he’s around,” Derek says with a smirk. “I think I’m getting horny just because she’s horny.”

“Okay, so why can’t I have that effect on him?” you ask with your arms open. “Do you think it’s the pheromones? Maybe they’re incompatible. Smell me—does it turn you on?” you ask Spencer, presenting your neck, and he looks like a deer in the headlights, then leans in to sniff you.

“Uh… you smell nice?” he says with a shrug and a half smile. “I think it’s just your perfume, though.”

“Put your face near her boobs,” Derek says, and Spencer starts to lean in again. “I think the pheromones are stronger there.” He pauses about halfway to your chest.

“Actually, they’re stronger near the genitals, but I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“What’s going on down there?” You freeze and then turn to look up at Aaron’s office, where he leans against the doorframe; Spencer stands up comically fast, and you take a step back, clearing your throat. Aaron’s scowling—it’s really sexy and it’s making your heart beat in your stupid, traitor pussy—and then he sighs visibly. “We have a case, come on.”

The case is only a half hour away, so you drive, which is horrible, because you are with Aaron and Derek, and Derek lets you sit in the front just to watch you squirm.

It gets bad before you even pull out of the parking garage, because Aaron puts his hand on the back of your headrest to look behind him and reverse the SUV, and you look over at his body—his stomach, his lap, his thighs—and then quickly face forward when he puts the car into drive. You’re flushed, breathing heavily, and when he looks you over quizzically, asks if you’re alright, you just clear your throat and nod.

“Allergies,” Derek supplies from the back, and you mentally thank him for the save, but you kind of also want to smack him for putting you in this position in the first place.

You’re practically turned on the entire ride, even as you go over the details of the case, because his legs are spread and your eyes keep moving to his crotch; at one point, you think you notice his already unfairly tight pants getting a little tighter, but it’s just a trick of light.

By the time you arrive at the precinct, you are more than ready for fresh air, to put some distance between yourself and Aaron. You’re out of the car almost as soon as he turns off the engine, which probably looks weird as hell, but for your sanity you can’t give it too much thought.

The head detective and a junior detective give you a run down on the case while the other half of your team meets with officers at the crime scene. The head detective, a tall, handsome man in his forties, is looking at you like you’re a juicy steak and he hasn’t eaten in months; Derek notices, turns to you with a raised eyebrow and mouths ‘pheromones,’ Aaron is clearly unhappy about the detective’s lack of professionalism, and you couldn’t really care less about the attention. You just want to do your job and go home and touch yourself to thoughts of your boss… as one does.

The local police already have a board made up, so the three of you travel to speak with some witnesses, head back to the precinct, work the tip lines. Aaron seems to be looking at you more than usual, and when you get up to stretch your legs, he’s right behind you, following you out into the hall.

“Are you sure you're alright today?” he asks with a serious expression, hands on his hips. Your mouth waters. “You’ve been acting a little strange.”

“Stranger than normal?” You try to smile, to lighten the mood, but as oblivious as he’s been about everything else, he’s always been able to tell when you try to hide your emotions with humor.

“The last couple weeks? Yes.” He moves a little closer, and you try your best not to let it affect you—or at least not to let it show when it does. “You know by now that you can come to me anytime, for anything.” He doesn’t present it as a question, but it’s clear on his face that he’s looking for an answer.

“I know. I’m going through something… stupid,” you say with a shrug. “Something I should be able to handle, but it’s harder than I imagined.” He frowns, flicks his eyes over your face.

“Let me help you.”

“You can’t; trust me, you can’t,” you say, pleading with your voice, begging him to drop it. “I’ll get through it.” You shut your eyes briefly, exhale, and he reaches down to take one of your hands in his.

“Are you in trouble?” This is the most intimately he’s ever touched you, and it’s not just your body that sings; you know you’re in love with him, have been for a while, but focusing on the horny feelings is easier. It makes it feel like you have less to lose.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just need some time. Thank you.” You squeeze his hand, and then Derek pokes his head into the hall behind him.

“We got a tip about the unsub barricading a house downtown; the detective is mobilizing SWAT,” he says; when he glances down at your hands, you pull yours softly out of Aaron’s grasp.

“What do you want us to do, boss?” you ask, effectively ending your conversation, and he tells you to get suited up with comms and Kevlar so the three of you can head to the new scene. Aaron is, unsurprisingly, a complete badass, storming the house along with SWAT, you at his side; it’s his way of reminding you that he trusts you, that it can and should go both ways—he is so perfectly predictable, reassuring with gestures over words even in a situation like this one. It does nothing to help you stop wanting him.

He’s a little rough with the unsub (and that doesn’t help either,) looks ruffled and kind of pissed when you climb in the SUV to head back to the precinct. Spencer, JJ, and Emily meet you there, and you take the opportunity to vent about how indescribably good Aaron has looked all day—Spencer bows out of the conversation early, but JJ and Emily are kind enough to listen to your insane, horny ramblings.

“He’s just so hot—he always has been, but the new suits? They’re so tight, and his shirts show off his tummy, and his pants show off his thighs… You guys will never understand the things I want to do to him.”

“Okay, he’s handsome enough, but you’re nasty about it—I can’t handle you,” JJ says, not for the first time. You groan in response.

“How can you say that? Have you fucking seen him? I’m not supposed to think nasty thoughts when he walks around looking like that?”

You feel yourself getting a little out of hand, and Emily and JJ look like they’re trying to shut you up, but you can’t stop yourself. It’s like the floodgates have opened.

“He’s never going to know what I want to do to him… what I want him to do to me. I tried so hard, and he didn’t even look at me. All I wanted to do was get on my knees for him and grab his ass so he could fuck my throat as hard as fucking possible—is that so much to ask for?” You pause, but neither of them say anything, just look scandalized. “I guess I’m going to have to name my vibrator Hotch now, since that’s clearly the closest I’ll ever get to him giving me an orgasm.”

“Do you really mean that?”

You jump a fucking foot, spin around, almost knocking Emily and JJ over in the process; Aaron is in front of you, his brow furrowed, arms crossed over his vest (he hasn’t taken that thing off yet? You threw yours on the table like the minute you got back), and your mouth opens and your eyes close at the same time.

Oh fucking fuck.

“We’re gonna… go,” Emily says awkwardly, and you open your eyes abruptly when Aaron speaks again.

“No, we’re going to go; come with me,” he tells you, and he turns and heads down the hall; you look back at Emily and JJ, swallow hard, and follow him, your heart beating fast.

He steps into a small room with a copy machine, table, shelves of paper and envelopes and other supplies, and closes the door behind you, engages the lock. You are torn between being very worried he’s going to fire you and super turned on, because this is definitely a fantasy you’ve had before.

“Aaron,” you begin, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry. I think it was the adrenaline; it makes me run my mouth and I can’t stop it, you know that.” He’s facing away from you, his hands on his hips again, and you can see the way his body moves when he sighs.

“Did you mean it, though?” When he turns to look at you, he doesn’t look angry, he looks… nervous. “Do you want me?” His reaction is unexpected—not great, but not necessarily bad—and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah. So fucking bad. And I’m sorry—” That’s as far into your apology as you get before his mouth is on yours, his hands on your face, lips pressing against you for a rough, eager kiss. Your hands move to his waist, pulling him closer by the vest, and he lifts you up onto the table, tugs down the v-neck of your t-shirt, mouths at your throat.

“You think I didn’t look at you?” he says when he pulls away for a breath, tipping your chin down so you’ll look into his eyes. “You think I didn’t see that lacy red bra, your perfect ass bent over in the tight skirt? You think I didn’t feel it pressed against me in the elevator, that I didn’t want to push that skirt up and sink inside you and take you there in front of everyone?”

You moan, chest heaving, twist your fingers in his hair and pull him in for another kiss, dripping and trembling at his admission.

“I would have let you,” you murmur against his lips, and there’s no doubt in your mind that you would have, if that’s what he’d wanted. “I would let you do anything: not just let you, but I’d want it, beg for it. I meant what I said—I’d get on my knees for you, anytime, anywhere, do whatever you want me to do. I want to be yours.”

He catches your mouth in another rough kiss, then puts his hands on your waist, guides you off the table, and flips open his belt, the fly of his pants.

“Oh god. What are you doing?” you ask, and he slides down his zipper, pulls you with him until his back hits the door.

“I’m giving you what you asked for,” he rasps, staring into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. It’s so fucking hot your pussy clenches.

You lick your lips, drop to your knees on the tile floor so hard it hurts, tug his pants open and pull out his thick, hard, veiny cock.

Your dreams and fantasies did not do it justice.

“Fuck. Thank you,” you mumble, looking up at him, and he wraps his hands in your hair, pulls tightly. You moan just from that and the heft of him in your hand. “Thank you.”

“Shh.” He scrapes his fingers over your scalp, hums as you start stroking him, licking the head. “Don’t thank me—I should be thanking you, beautiful, perfect girl. In what world do I get this?” There are lots of things you want to say to that, but you’ve waited long enough, will have to say them later.

You lick your lips, collect lots of saliva, and take him into your mouth, get your hands on his ass and dig your nails in. Aaron groans, tightens his fingers in your hair, and when you look up at him it feels like a fever dream, like it’s not real but a delicious figment of your imagination.

For a minute or two, you stroke him with a tight, wet mouth, and it’s got you aching between your legs, but he’s supposed to be fucking your throat, technically, if he’s giving you what you asked for. You pull off, tell him that, and he tugs your head back roughly, guides you back onto his cock and starts thrusting into your mouth, earning vibrating moans around it.

“God, you’re so perfect. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you touched yourself to the thought of me fucking your pretty face?” He picks up the pace, pushes deeper when he sees you can handle it, and you squeeze his ass, feel your eyelids flutter as he uses your mouth, pulls your hair. “Are you a whore for me?” he grinds out, and the moan that rips from your throat is inhuman, embarrassing, and absolutely accurate. “Yes you are, baby, yes you are. My pretty whore, on your knees, mouth stretched wide and filled with cock.”

You’ve never been so turned on from a blow job, but this is Aaron, hot and dirty and forceful, everything you imagined and more. You squeeze him tighter, encourage rougher treatment, and he presses his hands against the back for your head, slams his dick in so deep it aches; you don’t gag, but it’s a near thing, and when he pulls you off you gasp for breath and whimper at the loss at the same time.

“Enough of that, baby. You were perfect, so good for me, almost choking on my cock, but I bet your pussy is wet and aching. Do you want me inside it?”

“Holy—yes, fuck, please. Please,” you breathe, and he helps you to your feet and then pushes you against the door, gets your pants down. His rough treatment has you whining, gripping the hair on the back of his head, and you kick off your boots and socks so you can step out of your pants completely. “Keep all this on,” you tell him, pants and shirt and tie and Kevlar vest and all, and he nods, kisses you deeply, presses two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans when you receive him easily, soft and wet and open, and he uses his free hand to sweep down your top, slipping the buttons loose so he can get a better view of your tits and black lace bra that’s holding them. “So beautiful, and finally mine,” he mutters against your throat, and you whine, let your head fall back against the door, and give in to the pleasure of his thick fingers moving inside you.

“Finally mine,” you murmur, tugging his hair, slamming down against his hand, and when you come it’s like a miracle; you cry out, clamp down, and wrap your free hand around his bicep and squeeze until you’re lightheaded, dazed, desperate for another.

You kiss, deep and passionate and filthy, and Aaron slides his fingers into your mouth, pumps them a few times, then kisses you again.

“Good girl. Are you ready for my cock now?” You pant, gasp, and nod your head, and he pushes your shirt off your shoulders, lifts your legs so you’ll wrap them around his waist, and pushes inside you. You both moan, kiss, moan again, and then you wrap your arms around his broad back, hook your fingers in his vest, and hold on while he pounds your body roughly against the door.

“Oh, Aaron, fuck. Yeah. Want you to slam your body against mine; want to feel it, want to feel all of you.” He looks into your eyes, breathing hard, fucks up into you, hands on your ass, his hips and torso pinning you in place.

“Sweet, pretty, slutty girl,” he pants, spreading you open and shoving himself inside your pussy. “You tried tempting me, and oh, did it work. I might not have shown it…” He ducks in to kiss the base of your throat and you cling tighter, rock against his hips. “But it worked. You dressed like a whore just for me, just so I’d notice you; do you I know went home and stroked my cock and came with your name on my lips?”

“Holy shit. That’s so hot.” You move a hand to his hair again, can’t not thread your fingers there now that it’s allowed. “Could have fucked me like this then. Could have come in my pussy, not your hand.”

“We’ll make up for lost time,” he promises, and he thrusts up with his whole body, so you can feel it pressed against yours—shoulders, chest, stomach, all the very best parts of him. “I’m not too much for you? Can you take it?”

“Perfect for me,” you gasp, holding tightly to his vest at his shoulder and his shirt at his hip, bouncing into his thrusts. “So perfect, want you. I can take it. I can take it, Aaron.” Your mouths meet for a messy, hot kiss, lots of tongue, and you groan. “Give it to me, give it all to me.”

He bends his knees a little more, fucks you so rough and hard your mouth falls open and all you can do is whimper, clutch him, gracelessly kiss back when he presses his lips to yours.

He comes first, holds tightly to your hip and pumps inside you, fills you and then some, so it drips out while he’s still inside. It feels sinful, even after everything, and with a few rough drags of his palm over your lace covered nipple, you tighten and grip him and gasp out his name.

You both slow, and then he turns you, leans back against the door for a little relief after holding you up for so long. He nuzzles into your hair, and you bury your face in his neck, and you kiss soft and sweet until you’re feeling stable enough to hop out of his arms and put your clothes back on. He rights his as well, and when you’re both put together he wraps you up in a hug, kisses you, holds you with soft hands on your cheeks.

“I really have waited so long for this.” He brushes his lips over yours, and you sigh. “You never indicated… I was trying to be professional. Then out of nowhere you were leaning over my desk and bending over the table, and I was a little blown away.” You nod, can see that, pull him down for a kiss.

“It’s the goddamn suits,” you say with a half smile, and he gives you a curious look. “Your new, better fitting suits? They fit you so fucking well it’s almost illegal; I’m thinking of pursuing charges against your tailor for reckless endangerment on behalf of my libido, and the coffee carafe, and my poor, worn out vibrator.” He chuckles, hugs you closer, squeezes you so tightly against his body you almost pass out from all the good things you feel.

“Maybe we can strike a deal,” he murmurs, pushing your hair back behind your ear, and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll think of something you can do to make it worth my while.” After a little more hugging and kissing, the two of you figure it’s time to emerge from the supply closet; you don’t see your team anywhere, which surprises you, but when you get to your phone and pull up your texts, it all makes sense.

Derek: Congrats on the sex. The four of us headed home because no one wants to ride with the two of you and your pheromones.

Emily: Yay, you did it!! Drinks on me next time we go out!

JJ: You guys are loud; don’t make a habit of that.

Penelope: I hear congrats are in order! And by hear, I don’t mean hear. There’s NOT an audio clip or anything, so don’t worry about that!!

Spencer: Emily took an audio clip. Is it normal for girls to enjoy being called a whore? You don’t have to answer that.

You take a very deep breath, give him the gist of the messages—you’re on your own, they heard at least part of it, there is some potentially damning evidence that needs to be destroyed—and you leave the precinct to head home in a better mood than you’ve been in in a very long time.

Aaron takes you out for a late dinner, and he spends the night at your place, falls asleep warm and solid and very naked in the middle of your bed.

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

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #prompt

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iceeckos12 · 3 years

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A time travel au. angst and h/c. inspired by this post

Warnings: jon’s very low self-esteem

“What do you think of him?” Jon suddenly asks, staring blankly at the wall of the breakroom.

Tim pauses in the middle of chewing his sandwich to give him a long, considering look.

He’s mostly decided to suspend his disbelief until further notice, simply to keep from losing his mind. What else is one supposed to do when future versions of Jon and Martin, who are also apparently dating, tell you that your workplace is currently involved in a plot to end the world? Ideally he would’ve processed one big revelation at a time, but apparently they don’t have time for that, so goodbye grip on reality, it was nice knowing you. I’ll hit the restart button as soon as things start making sense again.

Tim wipes his hand across his mouth, swallows, and asks, “You mean Jon II?”

Jon rolls his eyes, like Tim’s being obtuse on purpose just to annoy him. “Yes, I mean...him. Me. Jon II.” Then his nose wrinkles amusingly, the same way it always does whenever he says the moniker. He’s hated it since the beginning, but it was a battle he quickly lost, what with all three of his assistants opposing him.

Normally, Tim wouldn’t have thought twice about shrugging and answering, but...Jon’s been uncharacteristically quiet lately. Oh sure, he’d blushed up a storm upon learning that his future self and Martin were dating, and he’d expressed his own misgivings at the beginning, but...since then he’s been eerily, silently watchful. In Tim’s experience, when presented with this sort of puzzle Jon generally buries himself in research, and doesn’t emerge until he’s good and ready to do so.

There’s something else on his mind.

So Tim puts down his sandwich and gives himself a moment to think carefully through his response. “I mean...he’s a lot like you, obviously. But he seems…” What’s a polite way to say, the trauma and the boyfriend seems to have made him a little more easygoing? He certainly smiles more freely than he ever has, which...honestly, makes Tim want to cry sometimes. How horrible, that so much abject cruelty had just made him more kind. “...tired. A little less high-strung?”

“I see,” Jon says, turning his mulish gaze to his curry, dragging his spoon through the thick sauce.

Tim waits a beat longer, but when nothing else seems forthcoming he prompts, “Why do you ask?”

Jon’s reaction is only to press his lips into a thin, tight line. Tim knows this mood; he’s weighing how insecure he’ll look if he says whatever’s actually bothering him out loud, versus how much he wants someone else to hear it. Pushing him now will only make him clam up, so Tim just waits.

Tim’s patience is rewarded when Jon blurts, “But you like him. You...you all do.”

“Yes,” Tim says slowly, because it’s true. Martin’s so enamoured with a Jon that actually likes him that he keeps bringing him tea just to get another glimpse of that gentle, thankful smile, just to strike up another conversation about nothing. Sasha has decided that he’s the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to her, and insists on consulting him whenever she reads a new true statement.

Tim’s personally a little unnerved by the awful, sad way future Jon looks at him sometimes, or the way he flinches back whenever someone tries to touch him without warning. But he’d taken Tim aside and quietly explained everything he knew about what happened to Danny, so.

Oh, Tim thinks, feeling like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Jon may be an old hand at fooling others with his grumpy persona, but Tim knows that he’s just using it to hide his massive inferiority complex. “Wait, are you jealous?”

Jon ducks his head, and his ears darken. Gotcha, Tim thinks.

“Jon, you know that that’s still you, right?” he explains gently, quietly relieved that it’s not something more complicated. “We like him just as much as we like you, because you’re the same person.”

“But he’s not the same, is he?” Jon protests. “Look at the scars on his neck, on his hand. And he has panic attacks, and he flinches at loud noises, and, and—”

He breaks off, biting down hard on his lip, threading a hand through his hair.

Tim stares at him, feeling off-kilter, like he missed a step coming down the stairs. That doesn’t sound like jealousy. “...Jon?”

Jon shakes his head, his breath escaping him in thready, devastated gasps.

He can’t tell what’s going on in Jon’s head, and it’s starting to scare him. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Jon just sits there for a moment long, tugging at his hair, staring sightlessly at the middle distance. Tim gently untangles his fingers, giving him something a little more solid to hold onto.

“You all like him,” he says at last. “You all...he’s so kind, and he’s funny, and you like him, because someone hurt him first. He’s different—we’re different—because someone cut our throat and burned our hand, and you like him better.”

Tim’s horrified. “Jon—”

“Should I accept that?” he continues, the words flooding from him like a dam finally exploding in a shower of groaning wood and weathered stone. “Do I—how do I carry on knowing that I could be the person I want to become, if only I give myself to monstrosity, if only I let myself be hurt like that?”

“Of course we’re not going to let that happen to you!” Tim interrupts, voice higher and more frightened than he meant it to be. He’s applying duct tape to a raging river. He has no fucking idea how to fix this. “You don’t deserve—”

“Don’t I?” Jon demands, whirling on him, eyes flashing. “Don’t I deserve to be happy? Or am I unworthy of even this kind of improvement? Am I doomed to be like this forever?” Tears well in his eyes, spill over. “Don’t I deserve it?”

And then he slowly, inevitably, dissolves into tears, his slim shoulders shaking as he curls over and buries his face in his elbow. Tim drapes an arm across his back, angling his body so he can gently tuck Jon’s head against his shoulder. He doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do. Even if Jon were in any shape to hear it, he has no idea how to fix this.

Tim could tell him that he and Martin and Sasha all think that he’s fine the way he is, and it’s the stress of an apparently eldritch job that’s causing him to push people away, but he doubts Jon would believe it. Words mean nothing when actions have been screaming something entirely different all this time, and Jon’s always been more observant than they give him credit for.

“Oh, Jon,” he whispers when the tears finally start to slow, dropping a kiss onto silver and black hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you felt that way.”

Jon pulls away and shrugs, averting his reddened eyes. Tim squeezes his elbow to prevent him from retreating entirely. They sit like that for a moment, Jon going very still and very tense under Tim’s hand, settling into the vulnerability like an open wound.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says finally, sniffing heavily. He’s aiming for his usual brusque, dry tone, but his voice is shaking, and he’s not fooling anyone. “That was unprofessional of me.”

Before Tim can stop himself, an incredulous laugh rips out of him. “Jon,” he says quickly, “We’re well beyond professional. You know that, right? You don’t have to hide from me.”

Jon flushes. “Yes, well—it was unfair for me to put this on you, as your fr—as…” His expression goes all fragile and uncertain, and Tim’s heart aches.

“It’s not unfair,” Tim corrects gently. “As your friend,” and here he pauses for emphasis, “I want to know when you’re feeling like this.”

“Oh,” Jon murmurs, then straightens and scrubs the teartracks from his cheeks. “Oh.”

Tim nods reassuringly, takes a deep breath, and makes an educated guess. “I know you’re scared, Jon. We all are. This place is...horrible, and seeing what you went through is...terrifying. I can’t imagine how that must be for you.” He lets his eyes flicker up. Jon’s still watching him, rapt, and good, good. I haven’t lost him. “I won’t deny that he’s getting along with Sasha and Martin quite well, but...but that’s not because of what he—you—went through. It’s because….right now, you’re pushing people away because you’re scared, but he’s already done that. He knows that pushing people away just means you end up alone. It doesn’t mean he’s a better person, just that he’s a little wiser.”

“But how can you be sure?” Jon asks, leaning forward, eyes big and desperate.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have become your friend if I didn’t like you,” Tim admits unashamedly.

His bold honesty is rewarded by Jon flushing and ducking his head.

“But even so,” he continues, sobering, “Even if you were the worst person on the planet—and you’re not—you wouldn’t deserve to be hurt like that, no matter what the outcome. Does that make sense?”

Jon looks thoughtful as he says, “I—yes. Yes, that makes sense.”

He can tell though, that Jon doesn’t quite believe him. That’s okay—honestly, it’s what he was expecting. Tim’s been running headfirst into the wall that is Jon’s terrible self-esteem for as long as they’ve been friends. This problem is going to take more than one half-assed pep talk.

That’s okay, though. Jon’s worth the effort.

#tma #my writing #iceeckos12 writes

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herrlindemann · 3 years

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Metal Hammer - July 2014

Sometimes you wonder what that's supposed to mean. A band history. All those words. Sentences. Lines full of facts from the "good old days.” But then you start reading — and after a few seconds it sets in, this warm, comforting feeling of familiarity. Own, personal memories of that time flare up again, mixed with the sober numbers. And suddenly you feel it again. The feeling that you're almost out of breath because your chest is squeezing against the barrier, but you don't want to give up even a millimeter of your hard-earned place in the front row. Or the moment when the hairs on your forearms start to glow because the pyros explode right in front of your body. The tension just before the chorus, when every fiber in your body gets its own voice and the words scream along. The goosebumps and comfort of turning around and realizing that everyone around you is feeling the same. In short: those rare seconds in life when the here and now is all that matters. There are only a few musicians who are able to give us these moments. Rammstein is one of them. And that, although they - and here we are again with the sober facts - did not start under the most favorable conditions. Because normally, bands that can show such a steep, long-standing and internationally successful career a) do not come from Germany, b) play a different kind of music and c) have much more mass-compatible lyrics that are also written in English. The fact that Rammstein managed to do it is mainly due to four things: Talent, passion, high quality standards and a feel for the right moment.

Although these four characteristics have been refined, perfected and increased over the past twenty years, they have been part of Rammstein's success story from the very beginning. This became clear as early as July 1995. On-site appointment in the Hamburg recording studio Chateau du Pape. Till Lindemann, Christian 'Flake' Lorenz, Richard Kruspe, Paul Landers, Christoph Schneider and Oliver Riedel, in a nutshell: Rammstein are tense. There's a premiere coming up in a few minutes. They want to exclusively play the eleven songs from their debut album to a journalist from METAL HAMMER. How will he react? Which pieces are the best? There is still no routine, no expectations, no schemes — everything is new. Although Rammstein already have live experience, a record presentation differs significantly from a stage show. The months of skinning details, the discussions about which version of a song should be the best and thus the final one - all this is now being put to the test. In addition, not everything went smoothly during production. The recordings as such, carried out under the aegis of Jacob Hellner in Stockholm's BomKrash studio from the beginning of April to the end of May, are not the problem - the first mix, supervised by Hellner and his sound engineer Carl-Michael Herlöffson, is. “We had to stop because the result was too pop for us,” explains guitarist Richard Kruspe, who supervised the work on site. “It started well and ended with us being dissatisfied. Hellner had a different vision of Rammstein than we did.”

What follows is a tugging and tugging about sound concepts, musical visions and a clear directive. Hellner opts for a more technoid production, initially has moderate guitars in mind – and an eye for the dance halls of the republic. The musicians, on the other hand, want the full board and a sound behavior in which it bangs and cracks instead of sawing and fissling. The lowest common denominator is the term “dance metal”. The problem: With Hellner, the emphasis is on "dance", with Rammstein on "metal". But then everyone agrees - the Dutchman Ronald Brent comes on board for Herlöffson, and Hellner agrees to a new start: "We started again from scratch, with a different approach, especially with the relationship between the guitars and the electronics", remembers Kruspe. This already shows that Rammstein not only has talent, but also intends not to waste it or let it be diluted. You want success — but don't bend over backwards because of it. Once this direction was clear, Jacob Hellner proved to be the perfect sparring partner - it's not without reason that he continues to work on every record of the band to this day.

At this point in time, Hellner had no idea that his creative work would be closely linked to that of Rammstein for the next twenty years. Even the Rammstein musicians aren't dreaming of a great career in midsummer 1995 — they're busy with other, much more urgent things. They meet up with journalists in their hometown of Berlin for the first interview marathon in the band's history. Most music critics can't really assess Rammstein and HERZELEID yet. Interesting disc? Yes, in any case. Commercially promising? Quite possible. Headstrong? As a matter of fact! As idiosyncratic as the band itself. The band chose the Blow Up cinema in Berlin as the location for the press invitation. A UFA film is running in black and white — the journalists are positioned directly in front of the screen with a bright spotlight, the band in the semi-darkness on the rows of seats. Appropriately, Rammstein are playing topsy-turvy world: "I find questions fundamentally more interesting than answers," explains singer Till Lindemann. As reserved as the band is at their first meeting with media representatives, the musicians are extroverted on stage. Word has already got around - the cars of the capital city are already plastered with Rammstein rear window stickers. It's only been a few months since the band had their first official gig — on April 14, 1994 there were only 15 fans in front of the stage at Leipzig's naTo, now hundreds come to the gigs.

The power that is already radiated at the first Rammstein appearances is also what calls manager Emanuel Fialik on the scene. He recognizes the potential of the band, signs Rammstein with his company Pilgrim and finally negotiates a forward-looking deal with the representatives of the Hamburg label Motor Music, who want to release HERZELEID. Rammstein doesn't have to think twice about accepting the offer: "The moment you start making music, you naturally strive recognition and commercial success,” explains bassist Oliver Riedel. “When bands say they don't care about success, that's artificial refusal for me, nothing else. Why should we object if our music is so commercial that we can make a living from it?”

Of course, Riedel does not yet know that this would happen within a very short time. Up until the release of HERZELEID on September 24, 1995, Rammstein were a band that already had their first (demo) recordings to show for themselves, but above all lived off their reputation as exceptional performers. Now they have to prove that they can squeeze their flaming stage energy into record form.

It succeeds: HERZELEID is like a tobacco explosion. The album is musically gripping and lyrically lurid. Above all, his extravagant handling of aphorisms and unusual sentence structures inspires the fans. The musicians themselves call their eloquent messages « love songs » — an understatement. “Of course love songs in a wide variety of ways,” lyricist Till Lindemann puts it into perspective. “There is also a shrill kind of love, and that goes well with our music. The question is what one defines as love, or whether one can venture into extreme forms of love.”

Even if Rammstein no longer titled their songs as "love songs" but chose a less striking way of naming them: it's not wrong. The combination of the beautiful with the ugly and the realization that love cannot do without pain or loss is an old truth - only: Rammstein interpret them in a new, very own and yes, often exaggerated way. But that's what's so special about the band: Nobody can't ignore it, whether they like it or not. Anyone who listens to Rammstein, even if it's just from friends, listens up: What's that? What was that singer singing? “I only smell you, I feel you, a predator screaming with hunger, I smell you from miles away.” This is martial. And bestial. But - and the success of Patrick Süskind's bestseller " Perfume" made it clear almost a decade earlier — extremely fascinating, so to speak, because it allows a glimpse into the abyss, "Schauerlich-schön" — with Rammstein this expression is given a new dimension .

That attracts more and more people. HERZELEID is only the first step. 99th place in the German charts — that's good, but there's still a lot more to do. Rammstein have not only literally caught fire, but are now keen for more. And they get more. Almost two years after their debut, on August 22, 1997, their second album was released. It bears the simple but meaningful title SEHNSUCHT. Longing, the burning desire for something. And of course longing as a defining term in German literature. art and music. Rammstein know how to transport everything that resonates in this one word into the here and now. And they fall on open ears, precisely because they manage to combine the crass, the extreme, the hard with the beautiful, with melodies, with memorable lines. The most successful combination of these two opposite poles can be found in the song 'Engel'. The introductory melody is so striking that it becomes second nature within seconds: Lindemann rhymes: "He who is good on earth during his lifetime will become an angel after death" - a hit is born. For the first time, Rammstein also get radio airplay. The visual implementation of SEHNSUCHT is also sensational. Each band member gets their own cover. For the design of the six pictures, the band win over the Austrian artist Gottfried Helnwein, who has already refined the album BLACKOUT for the Scorpions. Rammstein bow to this "template" with a tribute of a very special kind: the forks that "stick" into singer Till Lindemann's eyes are the same ones that were used in Helnwein's BLACKOUT self-portrait. There is also a lot going on in terms of moving images: Since the budget is significantly higher than it was for HERZELEID, the band can live it up. With success: The video for 'Engel', inspired by the film 'From Dusk Till Dawn', received an echo in March 1998. From now on, Rammstein clips play a crucial role in the band's image formation.

However, this means that the band's attitude, which has been controversial from the start, is once again much more in the public eye. Criticism rained down when Rammstein used film material by Leni Riefenstahl (about the 1936 Summer Olympics in Berlin) to underlay the video for the Depeche Mode cover song 'Stripped' in 1998. "A provocation," Lindemann admits, "and one that may actually have crossed a line. We would not publish the video again in this form.”

Three years later, the band finally commented on the false impression of right-wing sentiment: 'Links 2 3 4' from the 2000 album MUTTER is a clear political statement. Flake Lorenz talks about "cleaning up the prejudices. We are marching, but we are on the left: absolutely clearly avowed on the left.” Guitarist Paul Landers is a bit more explicit: “We see the world differently than divided into left and right. But for this song we use those simple black and white metaphors that journalists seem to find important to explain us.”

Rammstein no longer need an explanation. They have not only risen to superstars in Germany, they fill the largest halls in the republic, and not only with the performance as such - because they also impress with the original and opulent stage design in the delivery room look. Things are also going well abroad: Europe is firmly in Rammstein's hands, and the leap across the Atlantic also worked. After support shows - including with Kiss through the USA - the Berliners have now achieved headliner status: a sensation for a gang whose program consists largely of German-language songs. But the old truth applies here: A good song is a good song. That's also true of 'Sonne', another anthem by MUTTER and an integral part of Rammstein's live program to this day. Fans around the world immediately take the piece to their hearts - which is all the more interesting in view of the history of its origin: "Originally" 'Sonne' was written as a ‘Kämperferlied' for the Klitschko brothers, so "Klitschko" was also the working title of this song," explains Lindemann. What he doesn't suspect at this point are two things: 1, one of the (boxing) fighters has now become a seasoned politician, and 2, twelve years later, 'Sonne' receives attention from a completely different corner - folk musician Heino takes view of this song on his cover album Sincerely Yours. Rammstein are polite and say thank you in their own way - with a joint performance at last year's Wacken Open Air.

You may feel what you like about this tribute - but the fact that Heino chose a Rammstein song is a sign that he, or let's say his management, has recognized what basically everyone has known for a long time: Rammstein are among the most style-defining, most innovative and most successful bands that Germany has ever produced. And they show constant toughness on all fronts. In October 2004 the band proves again that success and provocation don't have to be mutually exclusive, but can complement each other. While the moral apostles are still screaming their throats sore in the face of the video for 'Mein Teil' and the cannibal tribute clip can only be played at night, Rammstein officially become the most successful German band abroad. And they still are today — while earlier “competitors” like the Tokio Hotel twins Kaulitz are still talked about in the gossip press with a new weird hairstyle at best.

One reason for the long-lasting effect of the Rammstein attraction: the band has, and this brings us back to the four guarantees of success mentioned at the beginning, an unerring sense of timing. Although Rammstein is doing extremely well in the USA as part of the "Mutter" tour, the band is withdrawing from the live market there. For none of the following albums, neither for ROSENROT (2005) nor for LIEBE IS FÜR ALLE DA (2009), is the USA directly on the tour schedule. It wasn't until December 2010 that Rammstein crossed again — and managed to sell out New York's Madison Square Garden within 30 minutes. That means: 12,000 tickets. In words: twelve thousand. However the servers of the retail platforms endured it... Anyway, it's a triumph for the band. A sign that they did everything right. If you want to count for something, make yourself rare. A precocious saying, yes — but true. And that's the only way, with a lot of patience and tenacity in the background, that you can fulfill your really big wishes. "America was always a dream of ours," admits Richard Kruspe, "for me personally too. I feel more comfortable in New York than in Berlin.”

Today, Kruspe is free to decide where and how long he wants to stay. He and his colleagues are independent and can do what they want more than ever. Because of the success — but also in spite of the success. Because Rammstein have never bent, go their own way today. And still have a great desire for provocation, as the 'Pussy' clip has underlined. “For us there is an unbeatable motivation: to cause trouble!”, Paul Landers gleefully gleeful, and adds: “You wouldn't believe how much energy you can draw from it." A lot more, I bet...

#Rammstein #Till Lindemann #Paul Landers #Richard Kruspe #Flake Lorenz #Christoph Schneider #Oliver Riedel #2014 #*#interview #translation #*scans

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jasper-pagan-witch · 3 years

Text

Jasper Reviews: Grovedaughter Witchery

I NO LONGER HAVE TO WRITE MY OWN BOOK BECAUSE @breelandwalker WROTE IT FOR ME SEVERAL YEARS IN ADVANCE! I COULD SCREAM AND DANCE JOYOUSLY RIGHT NOW!

Okay, that's very dramatic, but I did promise to @ Bree in this review and she didn't specify how to @ her.

Before I begin, it took me way too long to realize that Bree's username is supposed to be read as "Bree Landwalker", because my second-step cousin has the last name Walker and I genuinely thought that Bree's name was actually Breeland Walker. Bully me however you'd like for that one, I deserve it.

Let's actually get into the review now that I'm done being a dramatic crackhead.

I ordered through Amazon, and unlike some books I got recently, it came in completely fine and unbent. Not a point for or against Bree because she doesn't control Amazon, but something I wanted to note.

This book was printed in 2016, or as I like to call it, "the year Jasper went crazy over radio stuff". Ah, 2016 was such a simpler time...let's see if this still holds up in 2021!

First, I would like to sing praises for the disclaimer/author's note at the beginning of the book. It felt more...genuine than most disclaimers. The foreword about what makes a witch was also a lovely touch.

Chapter one is the practical advice chapter, which goes over a lot of stuff recommended for beginning witches - research, formerly common words to no longer use, fire safety (Bree is after my volunteer firefighter heart, I swear), safe herbs to burn for smoke cleansing (and why smoke cleansing isn't "smudging"), the possibility of spiritual attack, consent in love spells and baneful magic, stuff on covens and solitary practice...

And she emphasizes safety, which I can appreciate. There are even ideas and things listed here that I've never seen before, and I've been all over the place in some witch communities and in different witch books.

Chapter two is filled with tutorials, including personal experience from Bree on spell writing. She breaks it down into simple steps that are easy to follow, especially if you have problems with keeping your attention on something (cough, me).

We love a witch who talks about the safety standards that food-grade plants are held to in market stores, and Bree definitely covers that. One thing I didn't quite understand is why herb names were capitalized all the time, while food names were only capitalized when they were supposed to.

I love the emphasis on being able to rely on LED candles if you don't feel comfortable using an open flame. Muah. This makes my firefighter heart very happy because I'd prefer that people be responsible when it comes to flames. I can relate to the accidental burning of fingers on cauldrons and such, because I burnt my hand on donut machinery back when my sperm donor worked in a donut shop.

I also loved the witchy travel kit, where Bree talked about what she carried in a cookie tin at the time. I also liked the proposed substitutions for what she carried and why she carried them.

There's also a guide on how to make a "witch web", and I like that Bree addressed the problems with dreamcatchers (those problems being that a lot of them are just cheap knockoffs mass-produced for profit without a care to the tribes that these originated from). The witch web seems like a very interesting concept and I look forward to fucking around with it in the future.

I'll definitely be coming back to this chapter in the future after I post this review and have time to make a scapegoat.

Chapter three is about charms, where we transition from how-to's to spells written or used by Bree.

The first thing we're presented with is sachet charms, and a general household protection one at that. Bree talks about the different kinds of sachets (I had no idea there were different kinds???) and details in every entry (a new spell every entry, up to three per page!) where you should put it and how you should activate it.

After that, there are walnut charms - did you know that walnuts can be used to hold spells? Because I sure didn't! I also don't work with walnuts, which probably explains that gap in my knowledge, but still! Like with the sachet charms, Bree explains how to do walnut charms broadly, and then gives us delicious recipes to stuff into the walnut.

I'm more familiar with witchballs (yes, yes, I cackled like a twelve-year-old, shut up), and Bree mentioned that there were many methods to create one and outlined the method that she uses. Like with the previous two, this also has a bunch of ideas for what to put in it for what purpose.

We move away from things to stuff into containers and on. Next is a candle charm for attracting "something" to you. That something can vary. Bree mentions that she never substitutes white candles for black candles but that your own experiences with color magic may vary (mostly because color psychology is far from universal, and that's the basis of color magic).

Immediately following that is a candle repulsion charm. I would make a "perfectly balanced, as all things should be" joke, but that meme was beaten to death.

After those candle spells are a bunch of miscellaneous charms that don't follow any particular theme, including one with a COCONUT. A COCONUT. Talk about reusing something!

There are also "quickie charms" (yes I also cackled like a twelve-year-old at this one, shut up) that can be done pretty much at the drop of a hat.

Chapter four is about magical powders and incense blends. I apologize ahead of time for the inevitable drug jokes.

First and foremost in this chapter, Bree explains how to make a magical powder and shares some hints and tricks - including using a coffee bean grinder instead of a mortar and pestle if you don't have the time or ability to grind up their own magic powders.

The first recipe here is everyone's favorite and the most iconic of Bree's powders - Bree's Banishing Powder. I found out about that long before I was aware of who Bree even WAS. There are other recipes for basically anything you can think of (and if you do think of something not listed, hey, there's always that guide on how to make your own).

It's not until the very last page of the chapter (page 124) that Bree talks about loose incense blends that she uses for seasonal solstices. They are very aesthetically on-point for the given season.

Chapter five is the chapter that I truly feared, because I know that people go crazy over essential oils, and this chapter is about magical potions and oils.

We jump right in with washes to cleanse and clean an area or object. It's not until we get to "Not On My Watch" Vinegar where my old nemesis essential oils finally pop up. Luckily, she doesn't say you should eat it, so I breathed a little easier.

She goes more into magical oils and how to make them (again with essential oils on occasion) but specifies that these oils are not for topical or internal use. Thank you, Bree, for not contributing to the "you can safely consume essential oils" scam.

Chapter six is titled, quite simply, "Spells From My Witchbook". Each spell gets one to two pages dedicated to it, and these spells are a nice blend of "fuck you", "begone thot", and protection and finding stuff spells. There's a lot of curses and, as a deeply vengeful person, I love that.

Chapter seven is about correspondences, where we jump in with substitutions for rare and dangerous plants, such as over-harvested plants (like white sage) or poisonous/hallucinogenic plants (belladonna, mandrake root, or yew).

She then lists plants by purpose and marks the ones that are poisonous and ones that you should not use or handle if you are pregnant or around someone who's pregnant. It is a long, long set of lists.

She lists plants for warding in a separate group so that she can list them by event, object, person, or eventuality they're meant to prevent. This is super useful if you're looking for specific correspondences rather than just general protection or banishing. There's then a similar section for plants for baneful magic, listed and warned in a similar way to all the rest.

She also lists correspondences for different colors, which is cool if you're looking to learn Western color magic and psychology.

Overall

Something I noticed throughout the book is that Bree would reference something and then send you to the page it is on so that you don't have to go searching for it or mark it yourself.

There were a few editing errors in the book, but they weren't major enough to take me out of it.

There are so many things I didn't mention that were in this book, especially in the tutorials section.

I love the secular approach to this book, it's precisely the thing I was complaining about lots of beginner witch books lacking.

I appreciate the information on plants as that's a thing that I'm super weak on.

There are tons of things in here that you can go back and reference, even as someone who isn't a beginner at witchcraft.

Official Jasper Review: 10/10, the first-ever full 10 points given to a book that's been run through the Jasper Test

I'm looking forward to picking up your other books, Bree!

#books #review #breelandwalker #bree nicgarran #grovedaughter witchery #long post #jasper post

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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 4 years

Text

I’m On Fire [Chapter 1]

Summary: With her sister’s wedding fast approaching and her Mom hounding her about finding a date, Y/N makes a terrible decision that lands her and her least favorite genius in a confusing situation.

A/N: This is the first part in a series, I’ve written the first few chapters already so I’m hoping to update pretty regularly! I hope you guys enjoy, and any feedback is always appreciated! ❤️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Category: Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst, it’s a Slow Burn Baby

Warnings: None really for this chapter, cursing? Mean-ish Spencer

Word Count: 6.5k

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

I wasn’t at the BAU long before it started to feel like home. The team became my family, pure and simple.

Having been recruited by Hotch at only 22 I'd sort of fallen into the roll of the little sister to the team without really meaning to. It's not that I was naive, or particularly sheltered even. I know I'm good at my job, and I'd want to be, given how my life's revolved around it almost entirely. But the team seemed to adopt a protective mindset over me right off the bat.

When I first joined the FBI everything was terrifying. I worked so hard for my PhD, trying to get into the unit, but there's almost nothing that can actually prepare you for the real thing. Being out in action in the field, working the cases out in real time. Sometimes they had a smooth, easy conclusion followed by loud obnoxious drinks together. Then there were the others, the ones that kept me up for days after and felt as though they owned little pieces of my heart still.

It was JJ that helped the most on those horrible flights back on the jet. Noticing my anxious ticks and uneasy disposition after that first case that had ended badly. JJ had been through it all before, taking too many cases home with her. Seeing her son's little faces in the kids that we couldn't help. If I was the baby of the team JJ was the big sister, looking out for everyone.

Morgan on the other hand was the outrageously cool older brother, the one you just wanted to be. Early on he'd helped my weak self with the ruthless fitness regimen the FBI required, he offered to pull some strings and get the test written off. But I couldn't accept that, there was something in me that just wanted to impress Morgan, and honestly still does. Like somehow if he thought you were cool, then it became true. So I passed the exam, but getting up a flight of stairs was near impossible for a week after.

Emily was probably the fun aunt. The one that would sneak you booze at the family gathering, or take you to your first concert. Emily was actually the one who'd found me, digging around colleges for potential recruits she'd had me picked out for a while I later found out. Insisting that Hotch give me a shot. It was reassuring to know I had someone who would stick up for me from day one.

I was an tech analyst, among other things, sort of a counterpart for Garcia in the field. So it was no surprise to anyone when the two of us hit it off as though we'd known each other forever. We weren't the same by any means though. Penelope was bold, and bright, and confident beyond measure, where I've typically felt like more of a blend into the background type. I've always thought of myself that way, despite my achievements. I'd also always believed I was fairly inoffensive, no one I'd met had ever had a huge problem with me, 'till I got to the BAU that is.

Every rose has its thorn I suppose.

That thorn in my side was Dr. Spencer Reid.

It wasn't that Dr. Reid was a bad agent, or even a bad person. I hadn't actually met him before that first day in the conference room, but I'd known who he was for a long time. Before I came along he'd held the mantle of 'youngest ever recruit' in the unit, while I was studying I'd read any of his work I could get my hands on because of that fact.

I figured it must've been some sort of hazing when he looked me up and down that first day I was introduced, and then proceeded to blank me entirely for a full week. Up until I'd wrapped my first case.

The whole team went straight from the jet to the bar. Proceeding to get far too drunk. Spencer joined, which the rest of the team found unusual, and I probably should've taken as a sign of things to come.

That case went well, and everyone was in high spirits but Reid had a sour disposition, at least it seemed that way every time he looked at me. After a few too many drinks I went outside in an attempt to sober up in the cold air, unfortunately Reid must've snuck outside not long before.

"Ugh" was all he said when he first caught my silhouette approaching him. The night was unusually cold so it had been deserted outside the bar that evening. I wasn't really sure why it made me nervous to be alone with him like this, the two of us leaning back against the same small area of brick wall, looking out at the cold night.

"Nice to see you too doctor" was all I could muster, I was drunk enough that I let my sarcastic tone leap out, "you can relax, I'm just trying to get some fresh air, it's too stuffy in there, and loud. I'm not here to talk to you or anything."

"Well aren't you a sensitive thing" he responds in kind, at that point I wasn't really sure if it was a coincidence or if he'd been genuinely avoiding me, but things were starting to clear up.

"I'm sensitive, that's a fun take on things" I joke, taking a long sip of cold water from my glass.

"And what's that supposed to mean, newbie?" his emphasis on the last word all but confirms my suspicions.

"Fuck man, what's your problem with me? Is it because I'm new, or because I beat your stupid record?" I quip. hoping that at the very least it might coax him out of his shell. Dr. Spencer Reid getting angry at me could honestly be better than the nothing I'd been experiencing from him until now.

"What stupid record?" he sounds genuinely confused

"I'm the youngest BAU recruit now?" I didn't know why else he could be so sour. He'd never met me before last week, and since he'd ignored me that first day I'd done all I could not to step on his toes. So if he had a reason to hate me this much, it wasn't something I'd done on purpose.

He takes a few moments to respond, raising his eyebrows and considering the information. He chuckles. He fucking chuckles.

"That's funny." he says, his voice leveling out, "I didn't peg you as funny newbie" that word sets something off in me again. Something about it is dismissive, or belittling. Before I could fight back he starts to move, maneuvering around me and heading back inside. A little too tipsy to think of anything constructive to say, I just mutter "Fuck you Spencer."

He swings open the door, as he walks inside he just says "See you Monday, Newbie" without even looking at me.

And that was only the beginning.

----

"You know I'm just trying to make sure you get enough rest sweetheart. There's no need to get so defensive!" it was far too early in the morning to be dealing with this call. Since joining the BAU a few years ago this was a standard call from my Mom. Equal parts well meaning and over-bearing, and generally asking far too many questions.

"I'm not getting defensive Mom, I get plenty of rest, my job is just very important to me and you know that." I knew she was right to be at least a little worried, this job was consuming, and in all honesty I wasn't sure how people like JJ were married and still here. It seemed like an impossible feat.

"Fine sweetie, how are your co-workers doing then? How's Penelope? Give her my love" she loved Penelope, I think she thought that Penelope tethered me to the normal world, and in a way she was right. She kept me sane, and fun, and made me eat pizza and do face masks once a week at least. Even when I didn't think I wanted to.

"Pen's great Mom, everyone's good. Well, the usual ones get on my nerves, but I'm fine." As I say it I glance across at Dr. Reid, the only person who's also in as early as I am most days. I'm not sure if he can hear me but he's tapping his pen so loud on his desk that it takes all of my energy not to walk across the bullpen and stab him with it.

"Y'know what Mom, I'm actually just after getting to work and it's a busy day so can I call you back later?" I chance, getting her off the phone is always an ordeal.

"Fine, fine, I'll let you go. But wait one last thing!"

I knew what was coming. It was always coming.

"Are you seeing anyone, Margot's been wondering too, just thought I'd check in?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose and trying not to scream down the line, I just sigh out the frustration instead.

"No Mom, believe it or not, I've made no progress on that front since you asked me all of 3 days ago."

"See you are being defensive!" she snaps

"I gotta go, bye Mom. Love you!" I say, hanging up quickly before dropping my head down into my arms on my desk, resting like that for a few moments in silence.

Hearing Garica chuckle behind my ear I perk up and spin around. She's holding a small paper cup of coffee and hands it to me. I look at it confused, "Sorry about the paper, I couldn't find your mug in the cabinet" she apologizes, looking over at Dr. Reid and rolling her eyes. Now I know he can hear me from his seat, he takes that moment to sip from my mug and place it gently back on his desk.

It hadn't taken long for him to start toying with me. It was always stupid childish things. Things I couldn't get genuinely annoyed at, that would give him far too much satisfaction, knowing he was getting to me in any real way. This was one trick he liked to play if he got into the office before me, he'd take my mug and make his coffee in it, just to spite me I guess.

"Why does he even do that, it's so stale" she said, just a little louder than normal to make sure he could hear. Garcia and Reid were still good friends and team-mates but she liked to stand up for me when she could. He liked to avoid me as much as possible so he'd usually go to Garcia before me if he needed help with something. Even when the two of us were out in the field together. Which was obnoxious but it was just another thing I'd gotten used to over time. And as long as it didn’t interfere with the case I just forced myself to let it go.

"I know it's such low grade bullying isn't it?" I shot back with a chuckle.

"So I'll take it that was Mommy dearest" Penelope gestures to my phone. She knew my Mom, and she knew about her general overbearing energy. I let out a groan thinking about the call again, and the calls that were to come.

"Isn't it always Mommy dearest?" I joke

"So she's still on your ass about the wedding then?" I'm sure Penelope was almost as sick of hearing about it as I was,

"Margot's getting married in like 4 months now, and every time Mom calls there’s just some new hometown loser she wants to set me up with Pen. It's fucking exhausting" I take a sip of the coffee she made me, savoring the bitter taste. She sits down on my desk for a moment, leaning in.

"Honey, did you ever think that if you got out there and found someone, she wouldn't be on your ass at all?" I don't want to think about that, about how she's completely right. All I can do is let out another small groan and lean back down onto my desk.

"Too early Pen" I say, it's muffled by the desk but she gets the message. Hopping up and heading to her own office as some more people start to arrive for the morning.

Leaving me alone to make a start on my paperwork that had built up throughout the week. Fridays were usually slow like this, giving me a little too much time to think. I couldn't shake the thought that my Mom and Penelope were actually right. Maybe I was a bit too invested in the job, and maybe that was a pretty big factor in why my last relationship imploded but I wasn't about to admit that to anyone.

----

After that the day crawls by, thankfully no cases pop up so the weekend might actually be free. Trying to make sure I clear up all of my paperwork takes a little longer than I'd hoped and leaves me alone in the bullpen. It seems like everyone's gone home by the time I've packed up and I'm ready to leave. Which wasn't as out of the ordinary as I'd like it to be really. Everyone else seemed to have somewhere to be on a Friday night.

Waiting for the elevator to arrive my phone started to ring, I could see my Mom's caller ID on the screen. If I just let it go I know she'll call back later, may as well get it out of the way. I take a deep breath in anticipation before I answer.

"Hey what's up?" I answer, stepping inside the elevator as the doors ping open.

"Hi sweetie, I've got good news! Do you remember David? That lovely boy, he helped out your Father that summer in high school?" I know what's coming and rub my temple, trying to stifle the headache I know is coming. As I answer a hand slides between the elevator doors, popping them open again.

Dr. Fucking Reid walks in, and he looks about as happy to see me as I am to see him. I make eye contact and look away just as fast, willing him away with my mind. "Yes Mom, I remember him, why are you telling me this?" I already know the answer but I'm fed up, she still sounds excited when she responds.

"Well you won't believe it! I ran into him at the market this morning and I thought you'd like it if I passed on your phone number to him, maybe for the weddi-" it took all I had not to shout into the receiver, and maybe I would've had the elevator been empty.

"Mom! Jesus!" I have to reign myself in, but I have a bad idea, "You know what, I'm actually sorted. I've got a date lined up now" I'm not sure why I said it with no real plan in place. She sounds even more excited than I've ever heard her.

"Oh my, that's amazing sweetie! That was fast, I can't believe you found one since this morning, it's someone from work so?" she assumes, and I'm just not thinking fast enough to correct her.

"Mmhmm, yeah" I'll figure out the logistics later I rationalize.

"Oh! Is it that boy you're always on about, the one who teases you?" she asks, and her voice is full of joy, and it makes me feel horrible that I'm lying already, and that I'm going to let her down.

"Yup, that's the one, look Mom I gotta go, I'll talk to you later! Night" I blurt out so fast it has to be obvious I'm nervous.

I can hear a stifled chuckle behind me. Fuck. How loud is my phone speaker. Could he hear that. Surely not. But this elevator was completely silent. The doors open and I have to stop myself from running to my car at top speed. Instead I walk out just a little faster than normal, turning around to shoot him a small wave goodbye. And he's got this devious smirk on his face that makes my stomach turn.

Sitting into my car I pull out my phone to text Garcia immediately.

I'm on my way to yours right now. It's urgent.

——

Traffic's light so it takes maybe 10 minutes before I arrive at Garcia's place. My mind's racing and my body takes me there on autopilot. Why did I say any of that, why did I even answer the damn phone. Why did I wave goodbye to Spencer, I never usually did that. Maybe that's why he had that look on his face. Maybe he was just thinking of something funny that happened earlier and it had nothing to do with me at all. That was something he'd do to mess with me for sure.

How was I going to walk this back with my Mom, she was just gonna have more questions that I couldn't answer. Fuck.

Garcia buzzed me up and her door was open for me by the time I got up the stairs. This little purple apartment had become my second home. It was where I spent most of my evenings off, laughing on the same sofa I was collapsing face first into right now. Garcia nestles in beside me and runs her hand over my hair, "Hey sweet pea, what's happening? I don't want to sound too concerned but you're not giving me much to go off? Are you dying, is there drama? You're going to have to tell me what's so urgent before I burst a blood vessel?"

I let out a muffled, "is drahmuh" into the pillow, Garcia shakes my shoulders.

"Sit up babe, damn!" I have to heave myself out of the pillows, sitting upright on the sofa beside her, clutching one of the pillows in my arms.

"It's drama" I repeat,

"Well, out with it then, you know I'll take all the drama I can get! Spill, spill" she rushes me along. I'm already apprehensive, Reid's her coworker too, but if anyone would understand why this was such an issue it was gonna be her.

"Okay, I'm after doing something stupid and I think I really need your advice" I cringe already, thinking back to the elevator, throwing out my words faster, I continue the story, mostly trying to get it over with, "my Mom called again when I was on the way out tonight and she was trying to set me up with this guy, and Reid was there, and I got all flustered, and I told her I had a date already" I throw my head down into the pillow again.

"Wait why was Reid there?" she looks like she's trying to fit puzzle pieces together and she's getting nowhere, "And what's the drama?"

"Shit Garcia, it was in the elevator and it was all quiet, and maybe he heard the call, maybe he didn't but he had this fuckin' look on his stupid face" I can't shake the smug little smirk, it's burned inside my eyelids. Garcia's face falls in what looks like disappointment.

"Ugh Y/N! That's nothing chill out, why does it matter if he heard your call? I know you guys are all weird but none of that is any of his business anyway!" she shoo's her hand in the air, dismissing the whole situation.

"No Garcia, it is his business now" I have to close my eyes when I say it, I can't look at her "I told my Mom that he was my date, well, I didn't say his name or anything, she assumed it was someone from work and so I just agreed, and then she suggested that it was him and then I fucking panicked Pen, I fucked up so bad. What do I do?"

I finally opened my eyes to look up at Garcia. She was sitting in pure silence, pursing her lips in what seemed like contemplation. The puzzle pieces finally slotting together. It's as though a light bulb goes off behind her eyes and she bursts out in fits of laughter. Doubling over on herself before finally taking a few breaths to calm herself down. I'm honestly not sure why she finds the whole thing so funny, she know's how needlessly annoying he's made my life, she's seen it first hand and heard me talk about it over and over again in this very apartment over pizza.

"Garcia, this is not fucking funny! This is serious!" I try to calm her down, I need advice not whatever this is.

"I'm so sorry Y/N, I love you dearly. But this isn't funny, this is hilarious. It's like you're Sandra Bullock in some mid-90's rom com. I love it" I don't love it, in fact I hate it. I nearly snap at her but pull myself back.

"Pen, come on, help me out. What do I do with this, how do I fix it?" I plead.

She stops laughing and pulls out her phone, "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm going to order us a pizza, and we're gonna sort this thing out together, sound good?" I just nod and collapse back into the sofa. I think I feel better now that I've gotten it out in the open.

----

Penelope makes us tea while we wait for the pizza, she keeps lemon & ginger in her cabinet for me, just like I keep mint for her. The warm mug and the steam calm me down. After a few minutes alone to think about it I start to figure it out a little better. I figure I can just lie to my Mom for a while, it might suck but I can pretend for a bit and then make up some excuse as to why he can't come closer to the time. Then I can just bring Garcia instead and everyone's happy. I'm about to float my plan to her there's a knock on her door. I was so caught up that I hadn't really noticed quite how starving I'd gotten. Leaping up of the sofa to grab the door.

I swing it open but it's not the pizza guy. Somehow it's the opposite of the pizza guy, my worst nightmare is on the other side of the door. He must notice my eyes blow completely wide. "Y/N!" he says, more of a statement than a question really, like he's telling himself that he's actually seeing me in the doorway. I'm not as gentle.

"What the fuck are you doing here Reid?!" I can't even disguise my anger. He seems a little flustered, like he's got absolutely no idea how to proceed.

"Um, uh, is Garcia here? I can, um, I can just come back later?" he swallows hard and shakes his head, before I can agree and tell him to get lost Penelope races to the door, pulling it wide open.

"Nope, that won't be necessary Doctor! Come on in, you're right on time sweetheart" she waves him in and he walks past me, his demeanor changing almost instantly. He's smug, like he's won whatever battle this was. And I hate it. Though he's still as confused as me despite the newfound attitude. Reid sits down on the sofa, right where I had been sitting. I bite my tongue and sit on the opposite end.

"Are you okay Garcia?" he asks with a genuine concern, "What's going on, what was the emergency?". He's not stupid, he knows she's not in danger now that he's here. But he wants answers. I don't know that I've ever seen him this confrontational with anyone, well anyone but me. The entire time I’m staring her down as she sits in the armchair opposite the two of us. My keys are in my pocket and my car's right outside. I could just jump up and make a break for it. Escape.

"You know what Doc, you won't believe it but I'm not actually the one with the emergency" she takes a beat, and I'm starting to think that I might understand why people murder other people after all these years, "Y/N has something urgent she needs to talk to you about" she's silent for another moment, and she almost looks giddy, "Actually Spencer, you might already know a little something about the matter already, now that I think about it" she smirks, and it's pure joy.

My keys are in my hand ready to bolt when the doorbell chimes again. "Oh, that'll actually be the pizza this time, if you two will excuse me" she hops up out of the armchair and races to the door, leaving the two of us alone in a horrible silence. The tension is almost too much, I want to speak but I really have no idea what to say, or how to even start saying it. But he starts.

"Y/N what's going on, I feel like I'm out of the loop here? What am I missing?" he asks, and there's something uncharacteristically genuine about the way he says it, but he can't turn to look at me as he speaks. I almost want to let my guard down and just have a conversation but I can’t force myself to do it. "Shut up Reid." is all I mutter, folding my arms across my chest.

He turns sharply on the sofa to face me. "Hey Y/N. Believe it or not I'm about as happy as you with whatever kind of Parent Trap situation Garcia's got going on here. But from what I'm picking up on you've got a problem and I'm supposed to be able to help with it. So do you want to tell me what's going on or not? I can just go?" I can see that there's an anger bubbling right below the surface, threatening to burst. I know I shouldn't but I let him stew in silence for a little too long and he jumps up off the sofa.

"Y'know what, typical" he mutters, rolling his eyes as he says it, "this is all about you." he throws his bag over his shoulders and begins to walk towards the door. Something in me just snaps.

"All about me?! Are you fucking kidding? I've been tip-toeing around you for years, ever since I joined this damn unit!" I shout as Garcia comes back into the room, pizza box and plates in her hands.

"So, who's hungry?" Garcia asks, trying to break the tension, or pretending there's no tension at all. Reid shakes his head in disbelief and rubs his temple before he speaks again, "Actually I was just gonna head out" he gestures to the door, "I'm clearly not wanted here so I'm gonna leave you guys to it." Spencer makes a move to leave but Garcia grabs the strap of his shoulder bag, yanking him back ever so slightly before he really has the chance to escape.

"You are going absolutely nowhere kid" She points back to the sofa, "get back there" she glances to me, staring with far too much intensity. "You too, sit." Her voice is more stern than I've ever heard it, even while we were on a case. I can't help but obey her command and I sit back down on the sofa in silence. Followed by Reid, clearly processing the same uneasy feeling of a serious Penelope.

She sits opposite the two of us again. "Y/N, Spencer, I love the two of you with all of my heart, albeit separately, and I would die for either one of you. But you've got to chill the hell out!" she says it like she's had it bottled up forever. The tension that releases from her as she says it looks euphoric.

She opens up the pizza box and lays it on the coffee table and takes out a slice for herself. Taking a bite she leaves the two of us in stunned silence. Once she finishes the mouthful she turns to me specifically, "Y/N you tell him, or I will." dead serious. And the feeling in my belly is like I've just fallen down an elevator shaft.

My stomach is in knots as I turn to Spencer on the sofa next to me. His face is puzzled and I think I might be able to make out pure terror in his expression. I don't know that I've ever been looked at like this before and my stomach screws up tighter. I have to take a deep breath and I can't believe I'm about to say it. "Fuck it" I have to take another breath almost immediately so I just have to force the rest out, "I don't know if you heard the call I was on while we were in the elevator earlier?" I look up to gauge his reaction and I can see his face relax, and worse than that, one corner of his mouth lifts into a sort of smile. It's a look of pure smug satisfaction and I think I might scream. I have to close my eyes because I really don't think I can look at that face as I say the next part.

"My sister is getting married in a few months and my Mom's been on my ass to find a date for the wedding and she keeps trying to set me up with these losers, so I fucking panicked, and I told her you were my date." by the time the sentence is out my eyes have screwed up so tight it feels like I have to pry them open.

He sits in silence for too long. Thinking, maybe?

"So I'm the boy who teases you then?" he grins. So he did hear. And he did laugh. He looks far too self satisfied. Now he knows he's right. He knows I've talked to my Mom about him, that he's gotten in my head. I can tell from his smile that he's savoring the moment. Mostly because I can't slap the smug smile off his face I drop my head into my hands. In an effort to disappear I guess.

"So," he says, taking a moment, "is that all you wanted to say then?" he asks, lighthearted and obnoxious, back to his usual self. I snap back to reality, shooting my head back up.

"What do you mean is that all?" I throw back genuinely shocked,

"Is that all you had to say Y/N? Can I go now? It's a long bus ride home y'know" he smirks but makes no effort to move. He can't possibly be making me do this.

"Well no, obviously!" I stutter, "I mean, are you, will you, uh?" I can't bring myself to say it out loud. He leans in on the sofa looking directly at me, refusing to break eye contact.

"Did you have something you wanted to ask me Y/N?" I just want to smack that fucking look off his face,

"Fuck you Spencer Reid" I almost whisper under my breath, but Garcia snaps me back to reality.

"Hey!" she looks at me, stern again, "Ask him." it's not a question, or a suggestion, it's a command.

"Fine okay" I scrunch my eyes up again, "Will you come to my sisters wedding with me as my fake boyfriend?" I curl up into myself as I say it, I can almost feel the bile rising up from my stomach. Like I'm having a biological reaction to the whole thing.

Reid crosses his arms and sinks back on the sofa, like he's performing the act of thinking. He's considering my offer to make me squirm.

When he finally speaks he says "Well I would Y/N, but I really fail to see what's in it for me" he's after getting cocky now.

Garcia pipes up, excited, "Oh, Oh! I know! I have an idea!" she interjects, "Spencer remember how a while ago, back after your apartment flooded you were all all worried about your antique books and prints and stuff?" he nods, "Well Y/N could digitize the collection for you as a back up? I know you're a technophobe? C'mon Y/N, you know you could do that no sweat, and it would take you a lifetime alone Spencer?" I really don't want to admit it but she's right. Even I knew Reid was adverse to any technology that wasn't vital, but it was your specialty. And maybe that was a good trade off, a job like that would be near impossible for him to pull off without help. I take a glance over at Reid and he seems to have had the same train of thought as me. He lets out an exaggerated sigh and relaxes his posture.

"Fine, I guess that's a fair trade. I'm in." he resigns and I almost can't believe it. I'm barely processing the whole conversation as he sticks his hand out to me, I'm confused for a second before I grab it and shake it firmly. Condemning myself to whatever's about to happen. And it's not the time to be thinking about it but maybe this is the first time Spencer and I have ever touched? But I shove that thought away.

Garcia's positively beaming and she's not even trying to hide it. "Now it's like you're both in a Sandra Bullock movie, oh, but you're Hugh Grant maybe?" she points to Reid.

"Don't push it" I shoot in her direction, taking a slice of pizza, now that my anxiety stomach has sort of passed.

Once the pizza's been eaten in near completely awkward silence Spencer stands up off the sofa. His unsure demeanor has returned and he looks nervous. "I actually should get going this time" he says but Garcia pipes up to protest,

"No, it's not even late!"

"It takes me a while to get back home, thank you though Pen. For... this?" he gestures to the whole living room, "Night" he waves. He's almost made it to the door before I stand up out of my seat. I'm not really sure what comes over me, maybe it's gratitude, maybe it's guilt, or maybe I'm just exhausted.

"Wait Spencer. Let me give you a ride home?" I ask and it's like it's not even me saying it .

"Thanks, but I think I can make it home just fine" he dismisses, and there’s an antagonizing tone in his voice that snaps me right back to our usual rapport.

"I'm trying to do a nice thing here, fuck! Just let me do something nice!" I snap, and he throws his arms up in surrender.

"Fine alright, if it'll make you feel better"

"Fuck you Reid" I mutter under my breath and I sort of hope that he does hear me really. If he's gonna be hostile about this I can be too. I give Garcia a hug goodbye but I'm going to scold her for this whole thing later.

----

I lead the way outside and climb into my car, Spencer hops into the passenger seat and it feels as strange as always to be alone with him. Especially because it's not an accident, and it's not in work. Maybe this was a horrible idea. He seems like he's unwilling to break the silence, so I just get it over with.

"Where the hell do you live man? I'm gonna need directions." I say, as deadpan as I can muster, which probably isn't all that intimidating.

"Sorry, yeah, so you're gonna want to turn on the ignition" he teases. I definitely wasn't intimidating enough.

"Don't push it" I say, turning to give him a cruel stare, he just reacts with a smirk, that same one from the elevator earlier.

"Oh, I'm pushing it?" he asks, feigning disbelief

"I'll kick you out of this damn car" is all I can think to say. He barely responds, he just lets out a soft chuckle. I want to ask 'what's so funny' but he speaks before I can get the words out.

"I can't believe you talk to your Mom about me" he continues to laugh. That's enough.

"You know what Reid, of course I have! I work with actual murderers on a daily basis and somehow you've been the only real source of friction in my life since I joined the BAU!" He stops giggling a little, but not entirely, he looks like he's making an effort to contain himself.

"I'm sorry. I guess I just never knew I got to you like that" he still finds the whole thing amusing, but I sure as hell don't.

"Directions, now" I demand, looking straight out the front windshield.

"Fine, keep going straight on this road for a while and I'll tell you when to turn" he says, finally playing nice.

The two of us drive silently for most of the journey, the radio playing softly in the background. Eventually we arrive outside his building, and it's nicer than I thought it would be. But I have no idea what I was really basing that on. For some reason it hadn't occurred to me that Dr. Reid lived in an actual home, I had pictured him sleeping upside down in a cave maybe, or in a cryogenic chamber with all the other life-like genius robots.

"So," he says, breaking the silence, "When is this wedding?"

"4 months from now, in and around" I respond, matter of factly. Spencer nods, taking it in.

"Alright, so I've got 4 months, in and around, to learn enough to convincingly pass as your loving boyfriend. Doesn't sound so difficult." he jokes, his tone harsh and sarcastic.

"Look Spencer, I know this is insane and honestly kind of stupid. But in all seriousness, you can back out right now if you're not on board with whatever this is. I'm telling you this is the last exit ramp." I try to say it with sincerity, giving him a genuine out if he's not comfortable with the weird set-up that Penelope pulled on us both. He thinks on it for a moment and shakes his head.

"So how are we gonna do this?" he asks, and I really thought he was going to back out. So I don't have an actual answer.

"Well, I uh, I haven't really given a plan much thought. How about I come over and start working on some of the stuff you want digitized like Garcia mentioned and I can use the time to give you the footnotes on my life?" I suggest, at least that would make it easier to knock things out all at once. Rather than having to spend even more of my free time with Reid than necessary. He looks content with the improvised plan.

"Alright, sounds good." he undoes his seatbelt and opens the door to hop out of the car before turning back to me, "Are you coming inside or what?"

— —

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