#like to be clear my partner complained about his behavior going back YEARS and i was like. and you never said anything?

[vargamornight]

"only one person has ever understood me and i fucking hate that guy" applies to me and my partner's long time friend who i suspect has actual brain damage (but he may just be actually stupid with memory issues) but also a variety of mental illnesses and disabilities, all of which i clocked immediately, and all of which i said "okay but that doesn't excuse your awful behavior. just because there's a reason you're an asshole doesn't mean you don't have to apologize for being an asshole and try to improve so that you're not an asshole anymore." and so now he leaves the discord call whenever i join ✌️

"only one person has ever understood me and they're trying to hold me accountable for my actions without letting me make myriad excuses that mean i don't have to work on myself because everyone should just forgive me automatically because i'm mentally ill so i fucking hate that guy and avoid her on purpose constantly"

[show-your-fangs]

Swimming Pool ✿ Aaron Hotchner

We Shouldn't (And Yet We Do) - Part One

Pairing: DBF!Hotch x f!Reader

Words: 12.6k

CW: 18+, NSFW, mdni, smut, a little angst and so much fluff.

Summary: You return home for the summer because of your parents’ drama but luckily for you, your father’s friend, Mr. Hotchner, is there to bring you some much needed comfort. 

Tags/warnings: shitty family life, age gap relationship (reader is 20, Hotch is 40), teasing, groping, perv!hotch, inappropriate thoughts and behavior, grinding, daddy kink bc fuck you, fingering (f receiving), protected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it or at least make sure you talk it over with your partner and get tested!).

a/n: Thank you so much to @canuck-eh for writing Loose Morals and reigniting my passion to write this series, and to @xladyxdreamer for putting up with my Moments angst to the point where this series is now my penance for it. Finally, to whoever started the DBF!Hotch train, you are a god and I love you.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

Coming back home in the middle of summer was…a lot. You’d just finished your second year away at college and you weren’t supposed to come back home until Christmas six months later, a compromise you’d agreed to only for your mother. But then she’d called out of the blue, sobbing, hysterical, and you had booked a flight back home to Virginia before she’d even hung up. 

When you did finally arrive the morning after, she was much calmer, but the edge in her voice remained and you knew something was wrong. The only problem was that she refused to tell you what it was. It wasn’t until your high school friend took you out to lunch later that she finally clued you in as to what was going on. 

Your father had apparently been caught getting busy with another one of the professors at the college he taught at. Someone had taken a…suggestive picture and now everything was in shambles. Well, not everything, mostly just his own marriage. From the little bits of information you were able to string together from your mother, it was clear that he was gaslighting her into believing that the picture was taken out of context and he wasn’t actually having an affair.  

It had all blown up in your face about twenty minutes ago. Your house was packed with people, mostly your father’s close friends, colleagues, and their wives. He had decided to host an end of term/start of summer cocktail party to quell whatever doubts lingered amongst his social circles that whatever had or had not been taken didn’t mean anything and his marriage was still going strong. What he hadn’t accounted for, however, was you coming back to make sure your mother was alright. 

You’d been holding onto the anger all afternoon as you followed your mother around, yelling and complaining and just desperately trying to reason with her. You’d never been a huge fan of your father. Sure, he’d done the bare minimum to give you life and was now paying for the part of your tuition that wasn’t covered by all the scholarships you’d gotten so that you didn’t have to graduate with massive loans. But aside from the small kindnesses he awarded you every so often, your relationship was nonexistent.

It was almost as if he’d predicted your mood because he didn’t arrive at the house until the party was minutes from starting. You had thought about leaving, about going out and getting wasted with your high school friends, but before you could even tell your mother you were going out, you found her crying in the master bedroom. And just like that you were back to seeing red. 

The door swung open and you practically stormed towards it like a woman possessed. 

“We need to talk,” you started. “No, let me rephrase, I need to scream at you and you’re going to listen—”

“Honey,” your father said sternly, opening the door fully. “Do not be rude to Aaron, say hello.”

Shame hit you like a bus as Mr. Hotchner came into focus behind your father. Fuck, he was good. It was eerie how clever your father could be when he didn’t want to be told off, when he knew that he’d done something wrong and instead of owning up to it he’d do everything in his power to avoid talking about it. 

“Hi, Mr. Hotchner,” you managed through gritted teeth as your father walked past you and into the kitchen. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” he replied, an amused smile on his lips. “I didn’t know you were coming back for summer break.”

“I’m not,” you tried to keep your voice steady. He must’ve known why you were angry, why the sudden outburst, but he didn’t reply, he simply nodded, lips in a thin line, trying to look anywhere but you. 

“Well,” he broke the short silence. “I better put this on ice.”

He held out a bottle of Scotch he’d presumably brought over from his own house next door and walked after your father. You stood alone at the open door, the freedom of the night away from the exhaustion of fighting against your parents alluring. And yet you couldn’t seem to walk out, couldn’t seem to will your legs to move you in the direction of the rational choice. 

Your heart was beating unbearably fast, and it wasn’t because of whatever was happening between your parents. No, it had everything to do with the FBI agent that had just walked into your home and the way he had clearly glanced down at your exposed cleavage before he had to immediately shift his gaze to anything else. 

Aaron didn’t want to leave you there but he truly didn’t have a choice. You were wearing a tight black dress, so tight in fact that he could’ve sworn he saw every curve of your body. What had made it even worse was the way your breasts were practically spilling out of the garment, the trim of your lacy bra peeking around the edges. He’d felt like a teenager all over again, his crotch tightening uncomfortably as he tried his hardest to listen to the words coming out of your mouth to make sure that he responded eloquently. 

Your mother had already put out ice buckets and he practically slammed the bottle into an empty one. Was it stupid to chill Scotch? He honestly couldn’t even remember anymore as he desperately wished he could’ve dunk his already hardening erection on the ice as well. He needed to get a grip, needed to calm down, needed to pretend like he hadn’t already seen your body in the many pictures you had posted online in the two years that you’d been gone.  

He served himself a double, watching as you left the door wide open and retreated back upstairs. He lingered by the table for a moment, finishing his drink and calming himself down. He’d known you for a little over two years, at least on a first name, dinner at your house every month, type of way. You had just graduated high school when he started teaching part time at the college where your father also taught. The two of them had become fast friends and in the months that followed while you waited out the summer to start classes you had babysat Jack while Aaron was away on cases.

It was wrong and he definitely knew it. But there was something so captivating about you, about your kindness and curiosity and interest in not only his work but in him as a person. You loved getting to know people, getting to share secrets and discuss the root of existence and emotion and life. It was easy to forget that you were this young, your eloquence far higher than most of the adults that had just started shuffling into your home. 

He’d filled his glass up once more as your father’s friends and his colleagues arrived. He plastered on a polite smile and greeted everyone as they made their way through the house. The repetitive nature of small talk for the next twenty minutes allowed him to forget about you, calm his body down enough to appear normal, collected.

He had migrated to the backyard with the rest of his colleagues after a while, the men around him engaged in mindless conversation about the break ahead, their vacation plans, and anything that wasn’t about the elephant in the room, because he knew, they all knew, that your father had clearly been caught redhanded and if they didn’t get their wives to agree that he was nothing more than a victim, they could be taken down next. 

You waited until the backyard was packed with people before you emerged from your room. If your father didn’t want his friends gossiping about his affair tonight then you’d give them something else to talk about. And what better thing to gossip about than your father’s college age daughter practically displaying her body for all of his married friends and their wives. 

Wearing that skimpy thing that did nothing to cover you up could only mean one thing – you were trying to get back at your father. Aaron couldn’t help but almost choke on his drink as he watched you saunter back out of the house. His ears began ringing loudly as you swayed your hips, clearly asking for attention. You walked right up to the edge of the pool and dove in without so much as a single word, the stark contrast between the cocktail party and your rebellious, summer blowout attitude jarring. 

He couldn’t help but notice your father’s absence back out in the courtyard, your mother also conveniently nowhere to be seen. He could only assume that she was either consoling his poor, broken ego or sucking him off inside. Either outcome made him feel incredibly bad for you, bad that you had to come back home to rumors of your father’s infidelity and your mother’s complete denial of it. 

While she was working overtime trying to fix a one sided relationship, you were determined to lash out against it in the most childish way you could possibly think of, and that unfortunately meant parading around your backyard filled with middle aged men in practically nothing.

Well, fortunate for him because he got to see the way your nipples hardened against the sheer fabric the second you stepped out into the cold night air, got to marvel at way your waist dipped into your full hips, the plush muscle begging to be squeezed tightly, got to catch the faintest glance at the outline of your pussy against the red material. It was unfortunate because he knew he wasn’t the only one staring at you and he had to bite his tongue as he began to hear the men around him murmur about your body.

He wanted to step up and use his own frame to shield you from them, to hide you away from their practically salivating stares. But instead he simply took a sip of his drink and allowed himself to watch you like a hawk, to silently guard, determined to step in if any of them actually decided to turn their thoughts into action. Because even then he couldn’t help but feel protective of you.    

Your father came barrelling out of the house mere minutes later, your mother practically running to catch up and stop him. He was about to blow up, about to make a scene, one that you were eagerly waiting for when her hand landed on his chest and he seemingly remembered where he was and who he was surrounded by. He instantly relaxed his face and Aaron couldn’t help but take a step forward, tense and ready to fight him. 

“Honey,” your mother spoke instead, layering the guilt on thick. “Please get out of the pool, I don’t want you catching a cold.”

Aaron set his glass down and walked over to the little hamper by the grill, expertly fishing out a large towel. He could feel everyone else start to notice that he’d moved, that he was inserting himself into something that clearly had nothing to do with him. But it didn’t matter the second that your round, hurt, expressive eyes met his. His gaze softened, just for you, to let you know that you didn’t want to make this any worse than it already was. And for the first time ever, you listened to him. 

Your mother thanked him as he walked around them, towel extended in his hands for you to simply curl yourself into it. He could tell your cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, and when he draped the fabric over your shivering body, he could smell the faint, lingering scent of alcohol on your breath. He sighed deeply, just for himself and you followed suit, taking the moment to compose yourself. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, delicate fingers taking the towel from him and wrapping it around yourself, terrified of what your reaction would be if you’d let him do it for you. You were back inside the house in seconds, the party resuming quickly as your parents started their rounds of greetings and small talk. He lingered by the pool for a few minutes, not wanting to be incredibly obvious about following you inside. 

He told himself that he only wanted to make sure you were alright, that there was nothing wrong with being concerned for you after what had just happened. And so when the waiters began to pass out hors d'oeuvres, he took advantage of the distraction and slipped back into the house.

“Sweetheart?” he whispered loudly as he willed the wood beneath his feet not to creak loudly against the final step of the staircase. “Are you alright?”

The second floor was deserted, terrifyingly quiet and dark. He noticed the light was on in your bathroom across the hall from your room and he approached. The second his shadow landed over the wood, the door swung wide open, greedy hands grabbing a hold of his shirt and pulling him into the small room. 

“I need you,” you slurred, your hands sliding down towards his belt, trembling fingers struggling with the silver buckle. He couldn’t stop the groan that erupted from his throat, the sounds spurring you on.

He was so distracted by the thrill, the shock and surprise of your neediness, of your clear desire for him that his brain short circuited for a second, lost to the sensations he’d been craving from you for years. 

You’d never done anything like this before, never even flirted with each other as far as he was concerned since he made sure to watch his words around you, only allowing himself one thing, to call you sweetheart. Which could only indicate that your sudden boldness meant that you’d thought about this just as much as he had, that you’d caught him staring at you with hunger in his eyes just like he’d caught you staring at him with danger in yours. 

“Sweetheart,” he said bluntly, trying to use his words before he was forced to use his hands to stop you. “You’ve had a lot to drink,” you scoffed. “You’re upset,” your hand squeezed over the outline of his cock and it took everything in him to not let out a single sound. That seemed to do the trick as your confident demeanor slipped away and the terrified girl desperately trying to hide resurfaced. 

Tears laced your eyes, your chest began to shake, your hands trembled, slowly slipping away from his body. He scooped them both up in his warm, large palms, bending your arms over your chest before pressing you tightly to his. You began to sob then and it broke Aaron’s heart. Your face landed over his frantically beating heart. If you noticed through your tears you made no effort to comment on it. He held you like that for a while, not caring at all that his clothes were definitely wet now. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, arms crossing over your chest in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up now that you were clearly not going to get what you’d wanted only seconds before. He crouched down and picked up the towel off the floor, this time making it a point to drape it over you and wrap you tightly in it. You felt like a child, a dumb, stupid child that had just thrown a tantrum and had been scolded. It was humiliating. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” he assured you, allowing himself to talk down to you just a little. His heart was still racing, his mind even more so now as he realized that the barrier that he’d put up between the two of you all those years ago had just been shattered into a million pieces. “Why don’t you take a shower and get some sleep?”

You nodded, refusing to look him in the eyes. But he would not have it. He hooked a finger under your chin, gently yet forcefully, pulling your gaze up to meet his. His thumb ghosted over your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly without him doing anything to you. 

“Good girl,” he hummed and you practically whimpered, your thighs pressing together. The side of his mouth curled into the tiniest of smirks before he removed his hand from your body completely and walked out the door, leaving you alone in your bathroom with a fire burning in your chest. 

You were unsure when the decision had been made, but you’d awoken the next day to a letter from your mother on the kitchen counter, the house spotless as the cleaning crew she’d hired probably went through it the night before. Your parents were gone for the rest of the summer, apparently one of your father’s friends had a timeshare at some resort in Italy and they were able to squeeze your parents into their trip last minute. 

You released a sigh you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The memories of the events of the night before had been washing over you in powerful, drowning waves ever since you opened your eyes fifteen minutes ago. You regretted at least ninety percent of your actions, having been so wrapped up in getting back at your father that you had completely forgotten that your actions would also affect your mother. The look of disappointment, of complete and utter shame and embarrassment that had taken over her face as she spoke to you haunting, especially now in the brightness of the day. 

And then there was Mr. Hotchner. Fuck, you cringed every time you remembered what you’d done, how you’d come onto him so pathetically. You couldn’t deny the rejection didn’t hurt but he had been right. You were upset, unbelievably so, and it would’ve stung even more to think of your first time with him to have been because you were trying to make your father angry, not because you actually wanted to sleep with him. 

And oh boy did you want to.

As much as Freud was an idiot, you were very aware after two years of your psychology degree that your attraction to older men had everything to do with your need to seek the approval your father denied you from your romantic partners. 

You’d had a very childish crush on Mr. Hotchner for years. It was silly, something that kept your pussy wet at night and made your friends giggle whenever you told them about the hot neighbor that you used to babysit for. But you knew he was unattainable. You could never have him, and sadly, that only made you want him even more. 

In an act of defiance you hadn’t done what he’d told you to do the night before. Instead you took off the remaining pieces of clothing you still had on and tossed them into your shower before you walked across the hall to your room, pulled out the shitty bullet vibrator you’d left behind two years ago, and desperately tried to get yourself off. To say you’d been unsuccessful, your fingers and the weak device never even coming close to what you truly desired, what you needed. 

That had only made you angrier, angrier at yourself, angrier at him. By the time you had drank your first cup of coffee all of your embarrassment had washed away into cold, seething irritation. He clearly wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You definitely hadn’t imagined the way he responded to your touch, the way he’d groaned in response. And that was the problem. He’d been holding himself back, whatever friendly relationship the two of you had built, one that you regarded as honest and sincere nothing more than a facade he’d concocted to keep you at arm’s length. 

You grabbed a pair of sunglasses that your mother must’ve left on the kitchen counter and placed them over your eyes before walking back out to your backward. You were aware that there was a specific spot in front of the sliding doors that he could see from his house next door. You’d noticed it when you were babysitting one time, the thrill that he could’ve seen you in your bikini at some point that summer driving you insane. 

You didn’t want to be at arm’s length anymore. You refused to let whatever fears you were holding onto because of his relationship with your father to stop you from going after what you’d wanted for so long. 

You dragged a lounge chair over to that exact spot, the blaring sun perfectly over it as the excuse you needed in case he brought up your pathetic ploy. Once you were satisfied with your placement you shrugged off the robe you’d been wearing, the fabric falling off your shoulders and pooling around your feet in an instant to reveal absolutely nothing covering your body. 

You’d fallen asleep at some point, completely naked and aggravated. You made sure to take your time getting into a comfortable position over the chair, chest out, legs curled suggestively, putting all of your assets on display. With the bait set, it was now a matter of waiting for him to bite.  

You heard him yell your name across your house about ten minutes later. It didn’t surprise you that he had his own set of keys, your stomach already twisting in anticipation and excitement at just how easy it had been to get him exactly where you wanted him.

“Are you decent?” he asked with a smirk in his voice. He knew you weren’t. “Jack is here with me.”

You practically leapt off the chair, frantically picking up the robe and putting it on as the two of them walked out onto the backyard. Jack said your name then, chipper and excited, immediately melting away any ice left behind. You turned around just in time for the boy to wrap himself around your legs, squeezing you into a tight hug which you reciprocated, pulling him up to sit on your hip. 

“Hi, angel,” you greeted the boy. “How’s summer treating you?”

“Hot,” he replied, trying to push himself away from you. You couldn’t help but laugh, setting him back down in the shade. “Can we swim in your pool?”

“Of course you can!” you replied. “Do you mind if I join you?”

The boy’s eyes practically widened out of his head in joy, turning back to his dad with just an unbelievable amount of energy. 

“Not at all,” Mr. Hotchner replied for him and you shot him a smile before you excused yourself to go change into something kid appropriate. 

To say that he’d seen your little display was an understatement. He’d been sitting on his desk in his home office, finalizing his weekly schedule with Jessica when he saw you step out. He knew, after much trial and error, that you couldn’t see him from this angle, and so he made no effort to move to get a better look. 

And then you took off your robe and he was abruptly presented with your naked body. His mouth went dry in an instant, his pupils dilated, his heart pounded against his chest. It took him a full minute to realize that Jessica was trying to get his attention before his brain reconnected with his body and he asked her to repeat herself. 

Five minutes later he was hanging up the call and rushing down the hall to ask Jack if he wanted to go swimming. The boy practically leapt to his feet, running across his room to get himself ready. They didn’t have a pool at their house, so your mother had generously let them use theirs after you went away for college. She’d even gotten them key to the house and sent him the alarm code every time they changed it just in case. 

Aaron changed into his swimsuit in record time, practically tripping as he ran back and forth, all over the house, looking for the many, many toys that Jack definitely needed to stay distracted for the next few hours. As much as he wanted to walk over alone, find you naked and eager for him, fuck you on the lounge chair and then probably inside the pool to cool off, he couldn’t leave Jack behind, he wouldn’t leave Jack behind because he didn’t want you to know just how much you had affected him. 

This was a power move, one that he had fallen for instantly. What he needed to do was not give in, not give you what you wanted, continue to frustrate you, to tease you until you couldn’t take it anymore, all because he wanted to remind you that he held all the cards, that he was the one calling the shots, that he would be the one on top while you writhed in pleasure beneath him.

You returned a few minutes later in a plain black one piece. To say he was disappointed was an understatement, but he admired your decorum while you were around Jack. It was like a flip had switched, eyes clouded with lust and desire clearing away to joy and excitement to spend your day with a hyperactive kid instead of lazily sunbathing your troubles away. 

You handed Mr. Hotchner a bottle of sunscreen, having specifically chosen the cream kind instead of the spray so that he’d be forced to touch you when you asked, “Would you mind getting my back?”

He looked up at you with the same eyes from last night and you were surprised your knees didn’t buckle. He looked at Jack then to make sure the boy was adequately engrossed in his toys, clearly deciding which ones he was going to play with first, before he opened the bottle and squirted some of the cream into his palm.

“On my lap,” he ordered, low and just for you to hear. Your eyes immediately darkened and he smirked knowingly. You rolled your eyes then, reminding yourself that today was just playful after all. 

You stepped forward towards his opened legs and prettily sat yourself down on his thigh, your back to him. You’d already put your hair up so he went right in. His warm, sticky palms landed on the sides of your neck first, slowly sliding down your shoulders before they returned to the center and then slid down your exposed back. While you couldn’t wear the skimpy, barely there suit you wanted, you’d still chosen something that gave him a subtle peek of your body.

He continued his movements, unapologetically taking his time, dragging his touches, lingering over your neck and putting pressure around it. You shivered under his hands, your ass unconsciously grinding down on his leg. 

“Be a good girl and stay still,” he purred in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You stilled immediately, his fingers squeezing around your neck softly in reward. “All done.”

Your brain processed the words and yet you made no effort to stand up, and he made no effort to make you. His hands grazed down your arms, the backs of his fingers practically leaving feather light kisses on your skin until they landed on your hips. He gave your love handles a squeeze before he let his hands settle over your lap, leaning down to rest his chin on the crook of your neck.

The gesture itself had been so casual yet unbearably intimate that you didn’t notice you’d stopped breathing until your lungs started to burn. You inhaled sharply, your entire body shivering as you tried to keep the panting at bay. 

“You say the word and I’ll stop, sweetheart,” he whispered against your neck, gentle and kind, his tone meant to reassure you that you still had power. You nodded and he pressed a kiss below your ear, making you shudder once more. “So responsive for me.”

A whine escaped your lips, making Jack turn back to face the two of you. His hands were off you before you could even register, your own body reacting instinctively as you shot up to your feet. 

“Ready to get in the water?” you managed, flashing the boy a bright smile. He nodded enthusiastically, picking up a few of his diving toys in one hand before taking your outstretched hand with his other one. He diligently led you to the shallow end of the pool and Aaron watched as you both threw the little fishes into the deep end, giggling as Jack tried to toss them farther than you. 

He took a moment to compose himself, a moment to shift the material of his swim suit to try and hide the evidence of his arousal. He hated how easy it was for him to come undone around you, how you had him wrapped around your finger and could get him hard by simply existing. It made him feel young again, his libido higher than it’d been in years, and it was all because of you. 

He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard you and Jack splash against the water. Jack resurfaced first, already panting as he worked overtime to keep himself above water. You appeared then, like a beautiful mermaid coming above water to lure unsuspecting sailors to their deaths. And in that moment Aaron knew that he’d sink to the bottom of the ocean if it meant he could have even a taste of you. 

“Daddy!” Jack yelled, getting his attention. “Come into the pool!”

“Yeah, daddy,” you teased. “What are you waiting for?”

All the playfulness drained from his face in a second, making you choke on your own saliva in response before it reappeared as if nothing had happened. Your thighs rubbed together, the knowledge of the effect your words had had on him thrilling. 

“Coming buddy,” he replied to the boy, choosing to ignore you as he stood back up, kicking off his flip flops and cannonballing into the pool. 

Jack’s laughter brought you back down to reality as the waves his dad had created crashed over you, cooling your overheating face. You watched him resurface at the other end of the pool, one of the fishes you’d thrown under between his fingers.

“One to zero,” he announced playfully and Jack gasped, immediately diving down to gather as many fishes as he could, giving Aaron the perfect pocket of privacy to glance back at you. His face fell into a stern look of warning, daring you to call him that again to see what you could find out. 

You smirked back briefly before diving underwater, the mere mention of a challenge overshadowing whatever tension lingered between the two of you. 

You grabbed three fishes, swimming across the pool towards him underwater. You made sure Jack was above water before you made your move, fingers wrapping around Mr. Hotchner’s trunks to pull yourself out of the water as you practically climbed him. 

You felt him tense against your touch and that made your body flood with warmth once more. You made him feel like this, you made him react like this, you had the same effect on him that he had over you. 

Your head pierced the surface and he wasted no time pulling you further out of the water, his arm hooking around your waist again and pressing your hip against his painfully hard erection. 

You gasped loudly, nervously looking around and noticing that Jack had thankfully gone back underwater so at the very least he wouldn’t see the euphoric expression on your face. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, your hands steadying yourself against his chest. “Mr. Hotchner,” you whined and his grip tightened. 

For a second you forgot about where you were and the game you were still playing. Your eyes landed on his. They were hazy, glossed over and dangerously close to snapping. 

“Address me properly,” he ordered, lifting his knee to slide between your legs and press you further into him. You swallowed a moan, your breathing ragged, your skin unbearably tight over your body. 

You opened your mouth to speak but the word was screamed into existence by a voice that wasn’t yours. The two of you turned to face Jack who was eagerly swimming over to where the two of you were. You started to shift uncomfortably, trying to pull away from him, but he kept you in place as if you weren’t caught in a compromising position. 

“Did you get tired of swimming?” Jack asked you like this was the most normal thing in the world and you managed a nod. “That’s okay! I get tired sometimes and daddy has to hold me too.”

Your cheeks heated up once more and you thanked every deity out there that the sun was so hot on your skin that the kid didn’t notice a change. Jack reached out and grabbed a hold of his father’s shoulder to keep himself above water before pulling out his other hand from under the water, a fistfull of the colorful fishes in his palm. 

“I got six!” he told you and you finally snapped out of your daze, groaning dramatically as you showed him your own loot only being three. 

“I demand a rematch!” you told the boy before tossing your fishes back into the pool. He followed your lead and held your stare, the two of you seizing the other up before he got tired of waiting and dove back into the water, his giggles getting swallowed by the water. 

“Little cheater!” Aaron let you go then and you followed after the boy. You were so concerned with winning the silly game that you didn’t even notice the dopey smile across his face, one that he couldn’t hide from himself, one that almost made his heart burst with happiness.   

You played with the fishies a few more times until Jack was complaining that he was starting to get hungry and the three of you got out of the pool to dry off while Mr. Hotchner ordered lunch. 

You reapplied Jack’s sunscreen, placed a hat over his head and a towel over his body before you walked into the house to make a pitcher of lemonade and get some of the fruit your mother had bought a few days ago so that you could snack on it while you waited for the pizza to get there. 

You’d cut the lemons and had started squeezing them into the pitcher when his hands wrapped around your waist again, his front pressing against your back forcefully. You ground your ass back into him, never once stopping your task. 

“Hi,” he whispered in your ear. 

“Hello,” you replied, squeezing a half of a lemon with your hand, too lazy to get something else dirty. 

“Thank you for today,” he continued, his hands now slowly running up and down your sides, begging to elicit a reaction from you. “I know it’s not exactly what you planned but Jack is having a lot of fun.”

You hummed in agreement. “I’m having a lot of fun too.”

“Oh, yeah?” he stepped forward, locking you in place between the counter and his chest. “I’m having a lot of fun three.”

You snorted at the insinuation and the terrible joke, and he laughed in return, the two of you devolving into a fit of giggles like you’ve known each other intimately for years. And in a weird, almost strange way, you had. You’ve always had this rapport with him, this deep understanding of each other, mostly because you were both so into the other that you’d actually spent many nights asking questions, eager to know more. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked you once the laughter subsided and your heart started beating rapidly once more.��

You immediately twisted around in his grip, holding your hands up and away from him as the juices from the lemons ran down your arms. 

“Yes,” you heaved and he didn’t waste another second as he pressed his lips to yours. They were so soft and still warm from the sun still lingering over them, lulling you into a sense of safety. You opened your lips as his hands left your waist and cupped your jaw to press you further into him. You moaned into his mouth as his tongue entered, deepening the kiss into a hungry and desperate mess. 

He pulled back so you could breathe after a few more laps and your eyes blinked open, the light reflecting against them and making them shine almost ethereally. He smiled, his thumbs rubbing over your cheeks. You returned the smile, somehow already feeling warm and fuzzy from just a kiss. He leaned in again, his nose playfully tickling your own, making you giggle sweetly. He truly wanted nothing more than to make you laugh all the time. 

He was about to press his lips against yours again, already craving the feeling like a man that had been left to wander the desert for days, when his phone rang loudly, interrupting the tender moment. He sighed deeply, apologetically looking at you and you immediately shook your head, letting him know not to worry about it. He picked up the phone, determined to make the conversation quick so he could return to what he truly wanted to do. 

In the meantime you finished the lemonade, washed your hands with soap, and brought the pitcher, some glasses, and the bowl of cubed watermelon to the table outside. You checked in on Jack, the boy having fallen asleep, making you chuckle softly. You sat yourself at the table and waited for him to come back, already missing his lips. 

It was certainly an interesting turn of events, made even more interesting by how easy it was to fit into his life. Even with your parents you always felt like the odd one out, like they were their own thing and you just sort of existed around them. But with Mr. Hotchner and Jack…you felt like you just fit right in, like you’d always been a part of their family.

When he finally exited into the backyard he bore a very different expression on his face, one of remorse and stress. The playfulness from before had left his body and all that remained was the stoic FBI agent you’d sometimes get when he returned from cases or…got called into one. 

You sighed deeply, knowing that was exactly what had happened and he had to stop himself from melting at the thought that you just knew what he needed before he could even ask it. 

“Do you need me to look after Jack?” you asked as he sat down on the chair across from you. 

“Please,” he replied, taking your hand in his and squeezing gently. “Jessica can pick him up at school Wednesday afternoon and take him to her place.”

You nodded, returning the squeeze and trying to alleviate his guilt with an understanding smile. 

“When do you leave?” he asked you then, one of the many elephants in the room finally getting addressed. 

“Friday morning,” you replied and it was his turn to sigh, defeated. As much as you understood his work and just how much he needed it, he also understood your own, your life being far away from D.C., far away from him. He just wanted you all to himself, here with him all the time, and it pained him that he couldn’t have it. 

After allowing himself another moment of sitting in silence, of feeling his emotions and letting them tear his heart into pieces, he stood up, pulling you to your feet with him. He crushed his lips to yours and your hands finally tangled in his hair, his own greedily squeezing your hips. 

“Pizza should be here any minute,” he mumbled against your lips. 

“I got it, don’t worry,” you replied, pressing a closed kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Why don’t you say goodbye to Jack?”

He nodded, reluctantly letting you go as he knelt down beside the lounge chair and woke the boy up. You watched as they said their goodbyes, your fingers coming up to trace your lips where he’d just kissed you, all the conflicting things you were feeling crashing over you at once.

The first phone call came that same night. It was late, you were already asleep when your phone vibrated on the nightstand next to you. You were honestly surprised that you’d heard it, annoyed more so than surprised as your eyes blinked open painfully. 

“Hello?” your voice was deep, hoarse and clearly exhausted. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” his on the other hand was soft and awake. 

“Hi,” you replied, settling back on the soft pillow and closing your eyes. 

“Did I wake you?”

“Mhmm,” you whined and it broke his heart.

“I’m sorry,” to his credit, he did sound sorry. 

“It’s okay,” you mumbled. 

“I just wanted to say goodnight to Jack.” And to you. 

“He fell asleep immediately…” You tried to stay awake, desperately, but sleep was pulling you down, the heat from spending the entire day under the sun had seeped deep into your bones, making them heavy. The current had sinked your boat and you were peacefully sinking under the waves with it. You didn’t even register him calling your name, realizing that you were probably out of it, and finally telling you that he’d call you another time. 

You woke up bright and early the next morning, your senses overwhelmed by just how much his bed smelled like him. 

It was honestly a stupid thought, that the things that were his carried him with them, but it didn’t matter how many times you’d slept here in the past, there was something so all consuming about them now. 

Your three days with Jack went by quickly. You had forgotten how much of a perfect kid he was, how attentive and kind and easy it was to take care of him. Getting him ready for school was a breeze, breakfasts were filled with laughter and him rambling on about the dream he’d had the night before. Once you dropped him off at school, you found yourself missing him more than you ever had, and so you spent your days wandering aimlessly.

On Monday you cleaned the entire house, top to bottom. You put on one of Mr. Hotchner’s records on and drowned the house in music, your voice booming just as loudly as the singer’s, wanting nothing more than to distract yourself from the ache in your chest.

On Tuesday there was a lice outbreak and luckily, Jack was not affected. They still had to shut down the school for the day, so Jack had gotten a half day. You took him to the store to buy enough baking supplies to start your own bakery, and spent the rest of the afternoon making cookies and cupcakes. 

It was around six that your phone rang. You were in the kitchen, cooking dinner for the two of you. Saucepan forgotten, you immediately crossed the room, fingers fumbling to answer the phone. 

“Hey, give me one second,” you cut him off, putting him on speaker before you stepped out into the hall. “Jack! Your dad’s on the phone!”

“I don’t know if I should be touched or offended that you don’t want to speak with me,” he cracked and you couldn’t help but smile, making your way back to the device on his counter. 

“I always want to talk to you,” you hummed. “But I also know you’re busy and—”

“Dad!” Jack ran into the kitchen, swiping the phone away from you and running right back down the hall. You laughed to yourself, returning to the stove before you burnt something. 

You hadn’t been speaking, not really. Every so often you’d send him a picture of what you were up to and he’d do his best to reply, always short and sweet. He never sent any pictures of his own for obvious reasons, but it still made your heart constrict every time that you woke up the morning after to a missed call from him.

They were on the West Coast, in a small town somewhere in Oregon. At least that’s what you’d gathered from the messages here and there. By Wednesday you said goodbye to Jack at dropoff and told him you’d see him for Christmas. He was, understandably, very upset, since you’d just spent, what he kept calling, the best three days of his life with him. It broke your heart, shattered it into a million pieces, but you reminded him that you didn’t live there anymore and that you had other places to be. Obviously not cooler than spending time with him, but that it was still important. 

Jessica called you that afternoon to let you know that she had Jack and you chatted for a bit. She was always so easy to talk to, her openness to their strange family dynamic almost overwhelmingly supportive. She always remembered your birthday, always sent you a card (one that you knew she’d been making Mr. Hotchner and Jack to sign every year), and always made sure to ask if you were coming back home for any major break.

She liked having you around, liked the extra support you had given them while Jack was out on his own break, liked that the boy clearly loved you and felt safe around you. And after the three days you had spent with him then, it only made sense to start thinking about actually coming back home next summer to help them out, to have an excuse to see him as often as you could. 

You spent Wednesday and Thursday working on the tasks you'd been left with from your internship. They had graciously allowed you to go home after you informed them there was a family emergency, but you still had to meet the weekly quota, just like everyone else. Being in your house alone was...exhausting. It was too quiet, too empty, too devoid of Jack's infectious laugh and...and Mr. Hotchner's low and inviting voice. 

You hadn't spoken to him since you let him know Jessica had picked his son up. You knew he was busy, knew that he probably didn't want to speak to you while his mind was not in the right place, while he was using most of his energy to do his job. He didn't text and so neither did you. And as much as you understood why, the silence had only made your heart clench in pain, your brain already overthinking all the possibilities.

He was supposed to arrive in a few hours, having received the only text he'd sent to tell you that they were about to take off and that he should be back home in a few hours. 

You’d decided to get one last swim in before you returned to your concrete life that was Brooklyn. But if you were being honest with yourself, you just needed a distraction. 

You’d been drowning, quite literally, as the finality of the distance that you were about to put between yourself and Mr. Hotchner loomed closer and closer. Sure, he traveled a lot for work, he was away at least sixty percent of the time…but you had moved away two years ago with the intention of cutting yourself loose of all the ties keeping you in D.C. 

It had been easy to do so, the only one that truly hurt you every day being your mother. But now, after sitting with your overwhelming crush that has snowballed into catching actual feelings for him…was hell.

You needed to talk to him about it, needed to ask him to tell you that everything was going to be okay, that you could make this work, whatever this was. But you also didn’t want to pressure him, didn’t want to pressure yourself to get tied down to something that could very easily not work out.

You were floating on your back, simply allowing the water to gently rock you around the pool when you saw a pair of slacked legs walking towards the edge of the pool. 

“There you are, sweetheart,” he hummed. “I’ve been calling for a whole minute and you didn’t answer.”

You stood yourself up, shooting him an apologetic smile as you walked towards him. 

“'m sorry,” you murmured, the tightening on your heart only squeezing harder now that he was really here. He shot you a smile in response but he looked tired, defeated almost. You could only imagine what it must feel like to walk around with all of that weight, with the burden of the atrocious things they dealt with every day. 

He squatted down next to the edge and you propped yourself up on the space between his legs to pull yourself high enough for his lips to reach yours. The kiss was short and soft, domestic almost, as if you did this every time he came back home from a long case.

You slid back into the water, unable to hold yourself up any longer as an excuse to put some distance between the two of you. You were certain that if he stared at you for even a second longer, he would definitely know there was something wrong, that somehow he’d be able to see into your body and realize just how contorted your heart was.  

“Join me?” you asked, trying to change the subject before it was even brought up. 

He sighed, conflicted. “I don’t think we should, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whined. “I promise I’ll behave.”

He chuckled at that, knowing fully well that you most definitely would not, because he would most certainly not. But he found himself standing back up, quickly shrugging off his button down, the white wife pleaser underneath, his shoes, socks, and pants. You watched him in awe, mouth hanging slightly open as you began to salivate, your desire quickly making you forget all about your painful feelings.

He smirked at you as he sat down on the edge of the pool and slowly lowered himself into it. You hadn’t realized until he stretched his hand out to you that you’d drifted away to the other side of the pool. You took a small, steadying breath, trying to appear as normal as possible before you walked back to him. 

His hands wrapped around you instantly, bringing you into him tightly. It was almost as if he relaxed into you, his breathing deep and steady, a drastic contrast to your rapidly beating heart. You tried so hard to copy his rhythm, to blend into it in a feeble attempt to not raise suspicion, to show him that you were happy he was back.

And it worked...for almost a second. 

“Thank you for taking care of Jack,” he said. 

“It was my pleasure,” you replied almost too quickly. 

“Alright, what’s wrong?” he pulled back, his gaze desperately trying to meet yours. 

You hated him so much, hated how good he was at his job, hated how he could read you like it was the easiest thing in the world. Meanwhile, you were having to use all of your knowledge to just guess how he was feeling. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you lied, your fingers subconsciously fiddling with his hair. He sighed, shifting your core away from his as his hand snaked down to pull your swimsuit bottoms out of the way. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, finally snapping up to meet his but his attention was no longer on your face. 

Before you could question the sudden advance, he plunged his middle finger into you, making you moan loudly, your walls clenching around him.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he ordered, his finger curling upwards to hook against the spot that he somehow knew instinctively would make you come undone. 

You whined, holding onto him tighter. “I’m scared!”

“Of what?”

“This–” he curled his finger again, another moan erupting. “Us– fuck, I’m scared that I won’t be able to see you every day and it’ll mess up whatever this is,” you practically screamed. 

His movements stilled and you decided to foolishly allow yourself to meet his eyes. He was staring at you with what you could only describe as relief? 

You blinked, realizing that he was allowing you to read him like he could read you. You’d said exactly what he was thinking, what he was also holding in, what the heaviness that he carried had been about.

He pressed further into you. “Do you want to be mine?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “I want to be yours, all yours.”

“That’s good,” he groaned. “Because I want to be all yours too, sweetheart.”

You whined at his words, the tight grip fear had on your heart releasing just enough to let you breathe again. 

“I thought…” you trailed off, afraid that if you said what you’d thought aloud that he’d hate you. Instead he just waited patiently for you to muster the courage to say what you’d been holding in. “I thought you might only want to fuck me and nothing else.”

He shoved another finger into you at that, as if you say how dare you think that. You moaned again, your body tensing up, your walls pulsing around his fingers, practically keeping them hostage inside of you. 

“So tight,” he mumbled, clearly needing a moment to regain his composure before he spoke again. “I’ve wanted you– to be with you for a while, sweetheart. I was just…afraid of how it could destroy your relationship with your parents.”

The second elephant in the room reappeared and you couldn’t help but get another one of your fears off your chest. 

“Did you know he was…” you trail off before you can finish your sentence but Aaron knew exactly what you wanted to ask him. 

“No, I didn’t,” he shook his head, intensely observing your reaction. When you tensed under his touch he wasted no time to press a soft kiss to your temple. If you didn’t know but now you do then why are you still hanging around with him? That was the second part of your question, of your uneasiness, of your tensing body. 

“To see you,” he murmured against your skin and you pulled back from his touch, far enough to look him in the eyes. “I kept coming back to see you.”

The confession made your stomach flip. You didn’t know how to respond, how to tell him that you’d felt the same way in a way that didn’t make you come across as insane or clingy or immature. So instead you smiled softly, leaning forward to press your lips to his once more. His grip on your body tightened, his lips on yours opened, pulling you further into him. You may not have tomorrow, but you definitely had tonight. 

“I am more than happy and willing to take this slow, to just see where it goes,” he makes it crystal clear, no way to misinterpret his words, no way for you to twist them until you’ve convinced yourself that you’re crazy. Instead you just let your mind free. 

“Please fuck me,” you begged and a groan loudly erupted from his throat. His fingers resumed their fast pace but you whined in response, trying to stop him. “No, I need your cock in me, please.”

He shushed you then, kissing your temple gently as he only doubled down in his forcefulness.

“Let me make you cum first,” he replied. “I gotta stretch you out, you’re so tight.” 

You whimpered then, a symphony of breathy moans as you remembered just how big he’d felt through his pants. If he was telling you he needed to work you up before he could slide inside of you then you would obey. Fuck, the anticipation alone was going to be the death of you. 

The water began to splash over the edge, the constant crashing of waves somehow in perfect synchronicity to the pace he’d set. It quickly became overwhelming, as if your pleasure was so intense it was actually transcending your body and manipulating the world around you.

You moaned into his ear, your hands desperately digging into his back, trying to anchor yourself to him, afraid that you could slip away at any moment. He began peppering kisses along your jaw, each one lower and lower until he was physically unable to reach any more of your skin due to the water level. 

You were so close, so, so, close and he could feel it. Your body had tensed, your toes curled against his lower back, pulling him closer to you. And with one final thrust against the spot inside of you that made you see stars, the band snapped and you were screaming, not caring if the neighbors could hear you. 

He worked you through your orgasm, his fingers slowing down to a bearable pace as you rested your forehead against his chest. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked, clearly concerned that you hadn’t said something for a couple of minutes. You nodded against his body, slowly pushing against his chest to face him. 

“Never better,” you replied and his eyebrows shot up in provocation. 

“Do you want to make them a little better?” he teased and you couldn’t help the smile that took over. 

“Yes.”

He pulled his hand out of you and you whined at the loss of contact. 

“Such a greedy girl,” he mocked. “You’re about to be stuffed with my cock and you’re whining about missing my fingers.”

You shivered, eyes darkening as he grabbed a hold of your hand and led you back to the shallow end of the pool. He helped you out of the water, his hands attentive, possessive, never once letting you take a step without being on you.

Once you were out of the water he pulled you into him swiftly, lips back on yours with abandon. You practically melted into his touch, into his embrace, into him. Every thought in your brain was about him, about how soft his lips were, about how he smelled like a warm fire in a forest, about how his rough hands felt on your body, about how desperate he was for you. 

You didn’t even register as he undid the knots of your bathing suit, only felt the cold air against your nipples, making them immediately perk up. The back of his hands accidentally brushed one as he shuffled to discard your top and you moaned into his mouth. The noise that reverberated from him in response was addictive. His eyes snapped open and he pulled back, your own lips chasing his in protest. 

But he didn’t give you a second to figure him out as he arched your back with his hands, his mouth latching onto the nipple he’d just touched. It was your turn to mewl, eyes glossy and hands hungry to dig into him. 

“Aaron,” you whimpered and he froze, ice cold, fully stopping his movements. His mouth softly unlatched from your breast, a thin string of saliva connecting him to you. Your face heated up immediately, the mere thought that you did something to upset him filled your eyes with tears.

“What did you say?” he asked, softly, as if he knew you were feeling like a small little animal and he needed to be careful not to spook you.

“A-Aaron?” you mumble, not even once fully comprehending what you had just done. 

“You’ve never called me Aaron before,” he explained, taking pity on how much your brain was clearly not working at the moment.

You blinked in confusion, a tear accidentally falling down your cheek. He immediately wiped it away, looking down at you with eyes filled with nothing but adoration.

“I’m sorry—” you started, unsure exactly what you’re apologizing for. And he shuts you up with a kiss immediately.

“Say it again,” he groaned against your lips.

“Aaron,” you repeated, his name finally feeling heavy and important on your tongue. 

He places a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Again.”

“Aaron.”

Another kiss, this one on your neck. “Again.”

“Aaron,” he licked down to the base of your neck, his teeth greedily sinking into your soft skin as his lips suck. “Fuck, Aaron, please.”

You whined again, the sting of his mouth marking your body absolutely making you lose it. Whatever wits remained evaporated in an instant. When he pulled back, eyes practically raven, face flushed, lips plump and swollen, you couldn’t help the need to reward him. 

Your hands landed on the pronounced outline of his cock against his still wet, black boxers. He wasn’t quick enough to stop you as you wasted no time pulling the fabric off him. Your eyes widened, your breathing hitched in your throat, your hand trembled slightly as you abandoned your efforts to get his boxers down his thighs and instead tentatively returned your hand to hover over his length. 

He was so hard, the vein running along the underside practically pulsating. You tentatively traced it with your nail and he hissed. You smiled to yourself, your full palm replacing your finger as you wrapped your hand around him, slowly pumping him. 

His own hand curled around your wrist, demanding you to stop. Your eyes shot up to finally see him, to see just how clenched his jaw was, just how deep his breathing had become. 

“No, sweetheart,” he huffed. “I need you.”

As if you could both finally read each other’s minds, you untangled yourselves from each other, discarding the clothing that remained on your bodies and tossed it away before his eyes landed on you, on your naked frame, now right in front of him and not far away, separated from him by the haziness of glass. 

His eyes raked lower to your pussy and his brows knitted in surprise. 

“You have a tattoo,” the question blended into a statement as his hand gripped your hip, pulling you forward so that he could see it better. You bit your lip, amused by just how mesmerized he looked. 

“A friend of mine gave it to me first semester,” you explained, omitting the many health code violations, how you’d been high and couldn’t remember actually getting it, or the fact that you had been sleeping with your friend when he did. 

He traced his thumb over it, the placement was lower than your hip, easily hidden by your underwear and small enough that he’d never been able to make it out at a distance. His thumb dug into the center of the shitty heart then, anchoring his grip as he pulled you back to him. You moaned at the sting and it only spurred him on, the realization that you liked it when he hurt you igniting a fire in him. 

His other arm hooked under your ass, lifting you over his shoulder. You gasped loudly, your confusion quickly turning into a fit of giggles as he moved you both towards the lounge chair that you had rearranged earlier that week to face his house. 

He made sure to hook his foot around the pants he’d discarded earlier, kicking them forward with his foot, making sure that they landed right against the chair. He then unlatched the backrest and quickly set you down on it, your entire body over the comfortable foam cushion your mother had bought last year just for the Hotchners. 

He knelt between your legs, hands running down your body to pry them open for him. It didn’t take much as you opened yourself up to him eagerly. He grinned, the smile that graced you one that you’d never seen from him before, one that even he couldn’t remember when he’d smiled like that last.

Before he forgot, he reached over to where he’d thrown his pants, growing impatient as he struggled to pull out his wallet and procure a single silver wrapper from it. You’d been so consumed by the moment that you hadn’t even thought about protection. 

You thought about telling him not to, that you were on birth control and that as far as you were concerned you were clean. But you had no idea where he’d been, not that talking about his sexual partners bothered you, but bringing it up now did not seem like the right time.

“Someone was sure of himself,” you teased, watching him roll on the sheer latex over himself with more concentration than you’d ever seen from him before, and that was saying a lot. 

He retaliated by slamming his tip into you without warning. Your head fell back, a moan rocking through you and down to your core, the waves reverberating against him, causing him to take a sharp, steadying breath.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he panted, a little condescending and you swallowed the urge to fight back, to resume the game you’d started when you called him daddy. He didn’t know just how deep you were willing to go, how much fun the two of you would have. 

But tonight wasn’t the night for it. You needed him, craved him, desperately demanded that he fill the ache between your legs. You nodded, your hands gripping the cushion below you.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your need to anchor yourself, his ego boosted so high he had no idea how he was supposed to come back down. But he didn’t care, he couldn’t care, not when you were laid out in front of him like a buffet, what he’d been starving for the only thing on the menu now.

His left hand wrapped around your thigh, opening you further. You propped your other leg over the armrest, and he pushed forward. He had not been lying, fortunately for you. He stretched you painfully, practically stuffing you full. 

He made it halfway into you when you hissed, one of your hands shooting up to wrap around his bicep, urging him to stop. He stilled immediately, slowly rocking his hips back to slide out of you before slowly pushing himself back in. 

That’s when you fell, your arms giving out under you. An accomplished grin lit up his features. He sat himself back up on his heels to tower over you. Your hand sliding down to the one he’d wrapped around your leg, your fingers lacing with his, almost like a pinky promise as he continued his slow rhythm, never giving you too much, never forcing your body to take anything it wasn’t ready for. 

You could practically feel the wetness dripping out of you, coating him more and more with every thrust. He could clearly feel it too, the slick making it easier for him to slide in and out of you each time.

He took it as an indication to keep going. He thrust back into you, pushing himself just an inch further than before. You were a mess of whines and whimpers, your back arching in response, needing him fully in you. 

“Please, Aaron,” you slurred. “More.”

He pulled out of you completely, the desire to see himself slam back into you fully overwhelming. His hips pushed forward, easily sliding himself inside to the hilt, your ass slapping against his hips beautifully. He moaned then, his hands flying to your hips, locking you in place. You whimpered, your head craning up enough to see there was no space left between the two of you. 

“Fuck,” you mumbled, your walls clenching around him unconsciously. 

His eyes shut close in pleasure at your movement, jaw clenching, fingers digging into your skin deeper. You took him in, on the verge of coming undone, on the verge of cumming in seconds like a teenage boy that didn’t know how to stop himself. 

You giggled, your warm laughter bringing him back to you as he realized what you were laughing about. He scoffed, blush creeping over his cheeks in the most adorable way. You clenched around him again, deliberate and mean. He almost screamed then, the moan that left his lips guttural and raw. 

“Sweetheart, you’re killing me,” he huffed. “I don’t want to cum yet, give me a second, alright?”

You sighed, feigning annoyance, but respected his request, unclenching your muscles to give him a moment of respite. Your hands began to draw circles over his own, nails slowly dragging up his arms and towards his chest, gentle, curious, exploring.

You took your time, diligently running your fingers over every ridge, every dip, every single one of the scars that littered his abdomen. They were smaller now and faded from what they had been when he was first attacked, but you knew they were there.

He hadn’t told you the full story, hadn’t really mentioned it aside from briefly alluding to it when he was forced to explain a comment Jack had made in passing one time, a comment about his mother. But you’d noticed them years ago, and as much as he could act like he was over it, like he was comfortable being shirtless around you, you needed him to know that he was safe, that he could trust you.

He didn’t flinch under your touch, instead he hummed, his own hands shifting their grip on you to show you how much he appreciated your touch.

“Did you catch the bad guy?” you asked suddenly. He turned to face you with a scolding expression, this is clearly not the time for this. It only made you laugh again, embarrassed. “What? Thinking about gross things helps!”

“I don’t want to ever think about that when I’m with you, got it?” he commanded.

“Yes, sir,” you replied and his eyes darkened once more, whatever fear of bursting immediately leaving his body as lustful greed flooded back in, emboldening him.

“What you called me the other day,” he started, somehow both confident in what he wanted to ask and yet boyishly shy about it. “Are you okay with that?”

“What did I call you?” you acted dumb, so dumb indeed that it got you another powerful, forceful jam of his cock. You squealed, his tip now uncomfortably pressing deeply into you. “No, daddy, ’s too much,” you whined, your voice hitching into a sweet, high pitch that made his cock twitch inside of you. “It hurts.”

“Too deep?” he asked in his normal voice, making sure to check in with you. You nodded, desperate for him to pull back, and he immediately returned to the comfortable pain. You let out a deep breath, air filling your lungs again. He was concerned, but more than anything he was turned on, the desire to ruin you too strong. “I’m going to start moving, alright?”

“Yes, daddy,” you mumbled and he groaned loudly, his cock practically taking on a life of its own and making him react in a way he’d never experienced before. 

Aaron understood what desire was, he knew what it felt like, knew what to do with it, but this? This wasn’t desire. This was debilitating, allconsuming, painful almost. His brain disconnected from his body, it was as though he was floating next to his body as well as feeling everything that was happening around him, to him, because of him. 

He wanted to consume you, wanted to lose himself to the perfect sounds coming out of you, wanted to feel your tightness around him all the time, wanted to drown and stay at the bottom of your waters forever. 

His moans danced with yours in a delicate choir ensemble, the slapping of your bodies coming together becoming the bass keeping the pace, the rattling of the lounge chair against the concrete floor the percussion, the scrapping of the mattress against the plastic the strings – it was all too much, too good, too perfect. 

“I’m close, sweetheart,” he whined. “Rub your clit for me.”

Whatever coherent thoughts were left in you forced your body to obey immediately, your shaky hand landing in between your bodies. Your fingers were met with a lewd amount of slick, your clit puffy and screaming out to be touched. You rolled your fingers over it and the sensitivity sent you into overdrive, a snap of electricity running all the way down to your opening. 

He moaned in response, your core starting to tighten with each thrust, with each touch. The pressure was tight, tighter, desperately trying to force your dam to burst. 

“Daddy,” you whimpered. “Daddy, please, please, please, please–”

“Cum, sweetheart, cum all over me,” he demanded and you let it break. Waves of pleasure crashed against you, your entire body shaking, thrashing, slamming against his. Your moans turned into whines, you dug into his forearms, your legs hooked around his waist, pulling him further into you, locking him in place. 

The second he felt you clench against him, the second he felt your core tighten, your slick warm his entirety, your nails digging into his arms so hard he wouldn’t be surprised you drew blood – he lost it. He managed to thrust into you two more times before he slammed himself as far as he could inside of you, not caring if it was uncomfortable for you. 

He came hot and hard into the condom, his own pleasure blurring his vision, making his own body shake against yours, making his heart feel like it had skipped a beat. He stopped breathing for a few seconds, the sensations too overwhelming for his body to remember that it needed to breathe to survive. 

You were panting hard, your chest rising and falling as if you’d just ran a marathon. Your nails had stopped digging into his skin but he barely registered the lack of pain. It wasn’t until you ran your fingers over the indents in his arms that he opened his eyes, seeking yours immediately. 

You waited until his gaze met yours as if it was about time it did. You smiled lazily at him, completely spent, content, satisfied. He returned the smile, allowing himself to lower his body down over yours. His chest pressed against your own, softly caging you, holding you captive as his aching lips found yours. 

This kiss was unlike any of the ones you’d shared, unlike any of the ones you had shared with anyone before. It was definitive, possessive, claiming you as his, and yet it was unbearably gentle, playful, wholesome. 

He was the first to pull back for air, but he didn’t move away, instead he pressed his forehead to yours, his gaze unflinching, trying to communicate so much with no words at all. It was like he was making sure to savor every last drop, committing the sight and feeling of you to memory. 

Aaron took much of his life for granted, the routine of it all having numbed him to most things that other people would deem as exciting or fulfilling. The only area of his life where that wasn’t the case was his son. That little boy made everything worthwhile, every battle worth fighting, every day worth living. And now, looking at you, feeling how good he’d made you feel, he knew had found something else, someone else, that made him feel excited for what the next day could bring. That made him feel fulfilled in more ways than he could yet comprehend. 

Whatever doubts you’d had, whatever walls you had started to put up to protect yourself now laid crumbled all around you. He was right from the start, you were his, whatever that happened would happen, the best that you could do was ride the waves and see where they would lead you. All that did matter was that he was there and that you knew that he was also yours. 

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! This chapter was a blast to write after all the angst that Moments has killed me with.

My requests are open! I have a few chapter ideas for Mr. Hotchner but I would love to hear what y’all would like to see. Even if it doesn’t make it into the actual series, I will try to write some cute lil blurbs.

And also, because I’m a writer that needs validation, please leave me comments or love letters if you’d like to remain anon. I need the praise and love, thank you 🩷

Ps. The next chapter is titled Guest Lecturer so you can imagine what kind of debauchery I’m about to write.

Pss. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

[thelesbododo]

This is a headcanon circulating around a sensitive topic and one that you may not agree with so if you don't want to read it please scroll.

This headcanon revolves around the character Osamu Dazai and the concept of sexual assault

I believe that Dazai was sexually assaulted as a child

This has nothing to do with Mori and takes place long before they even meet

While it is true we know little to nothing of BSD Dazai's past, it is also true that it is highly likely the Irl author and his No Longer Human counterpart was SA'd

There are two specific pieces of writing are evidence of this

"My true nature, however, was one diametrically opposed to the role of the mischievous imp. Already by that time I had been taught a lamentable thing by the maids and manservants; I was being corrupted. I now think that to perpetrate such a thing on a small child is the ugliest, vilest, cruelest crime a human being can commit. But I endured it. I even felt as if it enabled me to see one more particular aspect of human beings. I smiled in my weakness. If I had formed the habit of telling the truth I might perhaps have been able to confide unabashedly to my father or mother about the crime, but I could not fully understand even my own parents. To appeal for help to any human being - I could expect nothing from that expedient. Supposing I complained to my father or my mother, or to the police, the government - I wondered if in the end I would not be argued into silence by someone in good graces with the world, by the excuses of which the world approved.It is only too obvious that favoritism inevitably exists: it would have been useless to complain to human beings. So I said nothing of the truth. I felt I had no choice but to endure whatever came my way and go on playing the clown"

- No Longer Human

"I ceased being a child soon after entering grade school. It was then that my younger brother’s nurse taught me something that took my breath away. It was a beautiful summer day, and the grass by the vacant house out back had grown tall and dense. I must have been about seven, and my brother’s nurse could not have been more than thirteen or fourteen. My brother was three years younger than I, and the nurse shooed him off. She said, ‘Go get some leaf grass’ - that’s our word for clover back home. Then she added, ‘And make sure it’s got four leaves too.’ After he left, she put her arms around me and we started rolling around in the tall grass. Thereafter we would play our secret little game in the storehouse or in one of the closets."

- Memories

Both No Longer Human and Memories are semi-autobiographies, meaning they're somewhat based in truth

I can't speak from experience but SA has a big effect on the lives of the survivors

Some of thes effects include;

Sleeping or Eating disorders

Dazai canoniclly has issues sleeping and there are scenes that imply he has issues with and/or doesn't see the point in eating, at one point saying that it is "so much trouble"

Nightmares

There is a specific scene within one kf the light novels where Kunikida asks if Dazai has nightmares.

(Unfortunately I can't find the exact moment so I can't quote it so if anyone can find it please let me know)

Self-hatred

It might not be clearly stated that he hates himself but ay the same time its rather clear that he does

Suicidal thoughts or self-harm

He is a suicidal maniac

Riskier sexual behaviors such as having many partners

He canoniclly has had quite a lot of lovers

Substance abuse

The one scene we see of his apartment we see that there is more alcohol than furniture (it's also a popular hc that Dazai smokes which makes sense considering his past with the pm and that irl author smoked)

Another moment to mention was when he seduced the nurse (which technically counted as SA too but that's not the point of this)

I'm probably gonna end it here because it's late and I'm tired but anyone willing to add or correct anything please go ahead and I hoped you enjoyed my hc

[darkstarofchaos]

It is finally time to talk about Megatron and Starscream.

Spoilers for Transformers EarthSpark under the cut.

So to start, it's fascinating to me that people are only now complaining that Megatron's characterization isn't consistent. I've thought it was inconsistent ever since episode 8, and it's only after episode 21 that I finally feel satisfied with his portrayal.

Way back in episode 3, Bumblebee asks Megatron what he would do if his troops weren't listening to him. Megatron's answer was, "When I commanded legions of Decepticons, my strategy was always intimidation. A little brute force, make a show of my weaponry, that sort of thing." He also mentions a "signature move" called the Turbo Twister, and while the details of what that is are lost to an explosion, it's pretty clear that he was using violence to keep people obedient.

Compare that to episode 8, which he spends complaining that Optimus has no problem locking up Decepticons despite not trusting GHOST. He doesn't want to use excessive force on the Cassettes when fighting them, rejects the use of devices that trap bots in their altmodes, and generally just doesn't like how the Cons are being treated. At the end of the episode, Optimus allows Megatron to let the Cassettes go, and Megatron tells Optimus that, "Perhaps your leadership style is not so different from my own."

Um. Excuse me, sir, but did you or did you not advocate for violence as a means of controlling your troops?

That's a blatant contradiction, and honestly, Starscream's "You don't know the real Megatron," sums up my problem with Megatron's redemption perfectly: we don't know the pre-redemption Megatron. We don't know what he was like when he led the Decepticons. We don't know why none of the Decepticons joined him when he allied with the Autobots. We know nothing about pre-redemption Megatron. Nothing beyond his own, cheerful anecdote about how he kept his troops in line through intimidation, and a later remark in episode 16 that, "A human soldier showed more compassion for my people than I did" (note that there is no contradiction between Megatron's self-assessment and his approach to disobedience).

Except now, thanks to the newest episodes, we do have something else. We have Starscream's assessment, and he describes Megatron almost the same way Megatron described himself: "The ruthless tyrant who ruled over us with fear and intimidation." Starscream did not say anything Megatron himself hasn't been telling us, and yet it's only now that Megatron's behavior gets labeled a contradiction?

But that's not why it's being called contradictory. I know it's not. So let's get to the heart of the issue: it's not just any Megatron who hears that Starscream has escaped and Does Not want him roaming free. It's a redeemed Megatron. It's a Megatron who argues against Decepticons being kept in cages, has a human partner, and shows nothing but patience in dealing with the Terrans.

It's a Megatron who, on learning that one of his most troublesome soldiers has escaped, falls straight back into old habits.

We have no direct evidence that Starscream was as rebellious in this continuity as in others, but I think it can be inferred. Megatron described intimidation as his approach to dealing with disobedience, and Starscream starts to treat Hashtag the same way when she refuses to obey him - then backs off when she calls him on it. So we know Starscream wasn't very obedient, and that he was "disciplined" often enough that he outright tells Megatron he doesn't feel safe with him ("Nowhere is safe if it's with you").

This matters because, when Megatron hears about Starscream's escape, it's not just some Decepticon. It's a mech Megatron could never properly control, who probably ignored orders and did his own thing constantly. Starscream isn't just an escaped Decepticon: he's a bot Megatron has been controlling with violence for who knows how long. And when that bot is no longer contained, Megatron slips back into unknown years' worth of learned behavior. Because he never had an opportunity to unlearn it. How could he, when Starscream has been locked up and Megatron didn't have to think about him?

But he doesn't stay in that mindset. Yes, he attacks Starscream on sight. But he backs down when Hashtag intervenes (he's already lowering his weapon before she's even said two sentences in Starscream's defense), and he makes no further attempt to capture Starscream. Quite the opposite: at the end of the episode, he extends an offer of safety, and when Starscream rejects that offer, Megatron just... lets him go. Just like he let the Cassettes go back in episode 8.

Megatron's redemption wasn't somehow undone because he made a bad decision on impulse. Not if all it took for him to change his mind about Starscream was seeing him try to save Hashtag from the Dweller. If anything, it showed that Megatron is committed to his new ideals. Even if he slips up sometimes, he isn't going to return to his old ways. And I don't know about anyone else, but I needed that.

I have spent the entire season doubting Megatron's redemption. It didn't feel like redemption; it felt like the writers just wanted a nice Megatron, and his old mindset could be handwaved as, "Well, he was bad once, but he's good now". Seeing him default to old behavior, even just a little, connected the Megatron we know and the one we only hear about in a real, tangible way. And at least to me, that makes his characterization stronger.

Of course, there's still that contradictory comment about Optimus' leadership style being "not so different" from Megatron's. But I don't think a single line of weird dialogue is worth getting worked up over.

[1nsan3]

Spider/River/Reader

I am writing the River/Reader fic I promise, but the idea for this fic came to me today and wouldn't leave me alone. So here you have it.

Contains a drowning mention.

1460 words.

Rating: G

When River approached you about having an open relationship you were surprised, but not insulted. He explained it over kisses in bed, shared breakfasts, and nights in front of the TV. It was an ongoing discussion and you finally came to the conclusion that it wasn’t that you weren’t enough for him, but that his overflowing love could extend even further. So you agreed, while you weren’t interested in having another partner River was free to explore. Never in a million years did you think this is who he would pick.

—

The pub is crowded and noisy when you and River show up and it’s almost immediately overwhelming. Leading you outside River scans the beer garden for his boyfriend whom he’s introducing you to. When he spots him his eyes light up, and it warms you to see the joy clear on his face. This was the right decision, you think, he’s happy. As you walk through the crowd you spot Spider and your mood instantly falls. Spider was your nemesis back in training, and the only reason you earned the name Spout is because you were so prone to chewing him out for his selfish behavior. You knew Spider and River were friends back in the day, but that was a long time ago and the bad blood has been boiling between the two of them for years since. At least that’s what you thought. 

As River leads you notice that you’re getting closer and closer to Spider’s table and a dread creeps into the back of your mind. Glancing at Spider once more he doesn’t seem to even notice you approaching. He’s on his phone, clearly trying to ignore his surroundings. It’s only when River sits down across from him, pulling out a seat for you, that you let yourself feel the distress you’ve been suppressing. There’s no way Spider is River’s boyfriend, you think, increasingly frantic. I mean that’d be ridiculous, surely he has better taste than that, your thoughts spiral. It seems insane that not only would River date Spider, but that Spider would date River. Of course they have their growing antagonism, and sure maybe they do complain about each other more than is normal, and okay from what you’ve seen River does really like to get in Spider’s face and vice versa but… Oh my god, you think as it hits you, they’ve been attracted to each other the entire time.

“You’re finally here. I can’t believe you had me wait at this pub by myself, you know I hate these kinds of places.” Spider’s voice brings you out of your thoughts. God, you think, I have to be nice to Spider. “And who is this,” Spider asks, body turned towards you with judgment clear on his face.

“This is my girlfriend,” River answers. “Play nice.” 

“Darling, when have I ever done that?” It’s odd to hear Spider use a pet name, but not as odd as watching his and River’s strange form of flirting.

“You should remember me Spider, after all it’s not like we don’t have history.” The feeling in the air is strained almost immediately as you see Spider recognize you. At your side, you feel River tense and hold his breath in anticipation. 

“Spout.” It comes out terse, through clenched teeth.

“Spider” you respond, eyebrow cocked in challenge. 

“Okay… I’m going to get us some drinks.” River announces, before hurriedly making his exit. You and Spider stare at each other for another moment until he finally sneers. “I thought River would have better taste in women.” It’s so obvious that Spider is trying to get under your skin. You won’t let him. “Well clearly his taste in men leaves much to be desired.” There’s a flush that’s creeping up Spider’s neck, red and angry like he is. “He’s too good for you,” you continue, “You put him through hell. He may have forgotten that but I certainly won’t.” There’s a flash of hurt on Spider’s face, there and gone before being replaced by sheer rage.

“I will always be better than you, a pathetic woman who couldn’t even finish her training. How does it feel to know that I live your dream?” His words hit you deep, and just like that you remember why you never went to MI:5.

“At least I don’t work for a sanctimonious bitch like Taverner. I hear you sit at her side like a lap dog. Is it true that she doesn’t even know your name? You’re not important enough to be remembered I suppose.” Spider’s face is scarlet now, his knuckles white as he grips the table, clearly wanting to throw something at you like the child he is. 

“At least I didn’t let River drown!” He yells, standing over you. The rage that fills you is indescribable. It makes you see red and courses white hot through your veins. 

In hindsight, maybe River wanted you both to meet in a public place to avoid exactly this. 

You and Spider get kicked out of the bar just as River comes back with your drinks. His face is disappointed but not surprised. It feels worse than if he were angry.

—

The next week is spent cooling off at your flat and wondering how to apologize to River while also making it very clear that you will not apologize to Spider. The idea comes to you on a Friday afternoon. You get off of work at four on a Friday and so you pick up flowers and an “I’m sorry” cake from that bakery River likes and head over to his flat. Pulling out your key you open his door, only to find Spider already inside.

“What are you doing here?” The question comes out more of an accusation than anything, but you’re still feeling a little raw from your last meeting. 

Spider glares at you before saying, “I’m here to apologize, you twat. Why else would I be in this hideous place?” 

Now, River’s home leaves much to be desired, that’s certain. The walls are bare and the furniture is ancient. You’d been trying to get him to redecorate for months. So it’s not that Spider is wrong when he calls the flat hideous, but it still angers you anyways.

“Incredible way to start an apology. ‘I broke into your flat and I think that it’s hideous. Hope you forgive me oh-wonderful boyfriend.’ You should put that on a card, it’d sell out.” You fix Spider with a glare of your own. 

“I didn’t break in,” he says, “River gave me a key.” 

And doesn’t that just hit you like a ton of bricks. Spider has a key, because River trusts him. Because he’s River’s boyfriend. River gave you a key too, because River trusts you, the same way he trusts Spider.

You feel, suddenly, like an absolute ponce. 

Spider has given up awaiting your response and goes back to doing whatever he was doing before you interrupted him. A quick glance at the table shows two places set, and a fancy bottle of wine in the middle. Spider is making River an apology dinner, and you’re still holding your apology cake and flowers. Setting the cake down in the kitchen you navigate around Spider to find a vase for the flowers. It’s a strange sort of domestic. Clearly you both know your way around River’s kitchen, and you operate around one another with ease. There’s no talking, but the tension in the room comes down slowly, transitioning quickly into awkward silence. 

“I still think River has bad taste in men.” you blurt out. Spider doesn’t even give you a response, he just raises his eyebrow judgmentally. “But,” you continue, “I think you care about him. And we can’t help who we’re attracted to. So…”

“He does have bad taste in men.” Spider responds, “But he’s River, he has bad taste in everything. He can’t help it.” You laugh, and the tightness in your chest loosens just a bit. 

When River comes home he finds you and Spider sheepishly standing behind the dining table. There’s cake and wine and a wonderful meal shared as you both apologize profusely to him. The flowers are the centerpiece for your shared dinner and River smiles as he reaches out to hold hands with both of you, his fingers slipping in between yours, his rough hand tangled with Spider’s spindly one. 

You and Spider don’t apologize to each other that night, the apologies come later; after late nights spent talking about the past, about the future. And when River comes home from a long day at work to find you and Spider curled up around each other in his bed, he knows everything is going to be okay. 

[hitnran]

OBSESSIVE EX (gender neutral! reader)

how they deal with you having an obsessive ex

includes: ran, rindou

CW: obsessive behavior, cursing, stalking (ran), phone harassment (rindou), the haitani brothers lowkey kinda scary here (not to the reader) 💀 but i’m just trying to make it fit within their character

— RAN HAITANI

Getting into a relationship with someone like Ran, half of the charismatic brother duo that ruled Roppongi, almost means guaranteed safety wherever you go. His title itself is one that is feared when murmured. Whenever you two leave, he always has an eye and a hand on you. Ran knows well that even if he is feared, he can also be challenged and the last thing he wants is for you to get involved — you would make an easy target for his enemies.

You two were out together on a stroll around the city. Although there was nothing neither of you needed, Ran’s favorite thing is showing you off. Sometimes you start to feel similar to his younger brother, thinking that you’re just a shadow and only known as ‘Ran’s partner.’ But Ran’s intentions were opposite. He wanted everyone to know that it was him that belonged to you and it is him that people would have to deal with if you were ever tested.

As you two are walking, Ran noticed your eyes consistently checking itself to the side. He took note of that and eventually brushed it off since you stopped. But then he noticed that you were being especially keen and scanning the whole area.

“Are you okay, love?” Ran slightly hunches down, getting your attention as your face turns his way. He lightly smiles at you. “Did you see something you liked?”

You swallowed down hard. You could’ve sworn you saw a familiar face, but after trying to scan the area numerous times for the past few minutes, you thought it was just you being paranoid. The last thing you wanted was to worry Ran and cause a scene.

“I’m okay,” You shook your head, returning a light smile. You grabbed on his arm, this time a little tighter. “Let’s turn into this corner.”

Ran knows when you’re lying. He knew something made you uncomfortable, but he wasn’t going to force you to tell him. Instead, he’ll make it his own problem too and deal with it himself.

This area was his territory and everyone knew it. It was almost as if Roppongi, a city known for liveliness, calmed down ever so slightly if one or both of the brothers were out. Everyone’s gaze wound be kept low and their conversations would go mute as they walk by.

At that moment, Ran could feel a pair of eyes staring your way. He won’t make it obvious though.

“Love,” Ran called out to you. You looked up his direction and he placed a hand against your lower back. “Rindou’s gonna throw a fit if I don’t bring back food for him. How about you go into the restaurant and order first while I call him and ask what he wants?”

You felt at ease hearing that you two were finally going to be in somewhere indoors, but it made you nervous that he would be separated from you for just a little while.

“Don’t wanna bring something back he won’t like and have him complain,” Ran lightly laughed, trying to ease your clear discomfort. He placed a hand over your head. Taking out his phone to add to his act. “I’ll be quick.”

After some hesitation, you gave in. It was a public space after all, so it shouldn’t have been anything to worry too much about. He watched as you entered the place before turning around, sending chills to the person who had been following you two around this whole time.

“Would be a shame if I left them alone for too long, wouldn’t it?” Ran gave off a sinister grin, slowly walking towards the person. “Wouldn’t want anyone to take them away…especially someone like you.”

Ran knew who this person was. He was an obsessive ex of yours that just would not leave you alone and accept the separation despite it being years passed. He gulped hard, nervously stepping back, not thinking that he would get caught.

“You were so bold to even follow us in the first place, why so shy now?” Ran smirked, hiking up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “This is the first time you’ve heard of me or something? I should introduce myself to you well and hard then.”

Almost ten minutes had passed since you’ve been waiting for Ran. You sat patiently and waited. Your best guess as to what’s taking him so long revolves around Rindou. Maybe he was complaining about how he wanted food from a different place or being picky about menu opinions. Just as you were about to raise yourself from your seat to check up on Ran, you saw him enter.

“Did I make you wait too long?” Ran appeared, seating himself in front of you. The worse case scenario you had in mind was that he got into a fight, but in front of you, he looked just as how you last saw him. “You know how Rindou is.”

Your chest became relaxed and you gave a small smile, shaking your head, “What did he want from here?”

“I didn’t even listen to what he said,” Ran teased, opening up his menu and leaning back against the chair. You felt his legs sandwich your calves from beneath the table. “He can order it himself. All my money is going to you today.”

And that was how Ran liked it. Although Ran wanted everyone to know that he belonged to you, he knew how important it was for others to know that you belonged to him too. The image of the face of your ex is burned so clearly into his brain — face all bloodied up, mauled almost, as he failed to even whisper for forgiveness.

“I think there’s only one way I’m gonna let you outta here alive,” Ran kicked his body down with force, hearing something shift in his jaw. He couldn’t give half a damn about it. “Do you know what that is?”

Your ex was visibly beaten and weak now, barely able to even blink or properly form a sentence. Though, with his adam’s apple slightly moving from fear, Ran took it as a response.

Grabbing him by his hair upward, Ran bent down, looking straight at him, “You’re gonna leave them alone and never show your goddamn face again. If it wasn’t fucked already before, it sure is now. I promise you I’ll know if you’re even barely visible or a mile away, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Ran thought it was so disgusting how someone like you could ever have your time wasted on someone low like this ex of yours. Even if Ran saw him and his brother above everyone else, he always put you above him.

“Maybe even after this, I’ll send one of my men to go and beat the shit out of you every day so you could suffer for as long as you’ve tried to bother Y/N.”

— RINDOU HAITANI

Rindou can’t even remember what it took for you two to even reach this state of your guys relationship. He convinced himself that it was Ran, his older brother who wouldn’t shut up about how he was going to take you if Rindou didn’t make a move.

It genuinely surprises himself even whenever he looks your way, observing every detail and soaking in the idea that you are someone he can call his.

You two were watching a movie, or rather, supposed to. Rindou was too focused on side-eyeing you every now and then. You caught him a few times, but he would brush it off with comments like “this movie is boring” or “I’m just checking to see if you fell asleep.”

He would snap himself out of a trance after hearing your phone ring beside you. You eyed it once, looking at the caller ID and ignoring it. It wasn’t enough to cause Rindou to worry - it’s not his problem if you just didn’t wanna answer a call, it was your guys’ time anyway.

But then it rang once more again. Your ringtone dragged itself out halfway through before Rindou slightly raised his hand from your hip, pointing to the phone on the side of the couch.

“You not gonna answer that?” He asked.

You shook your head, eyes focused on the TV, “It’s fine. It’s an unknown caller ID.”

Rindou shrugged, ignoring it once again, but after a few more calls and your phone receiving back to back text messages, it was starting to irk him. He was close to just grabbing your phone and answering the call himself, but you were quick to act before him, just shutting it off.

“It must be spam or something,” You sighed, sitting back down.

“Yeah, well whatever it is, good thing you shut that damn thing off. That shit was annoying,” Rindou sighed, curling his arms around you again. “Let’s change the movie too or something. This one is boring.”

One thing about dating Rindou is that he seems uninterested in absolutely everything he does. Although you avoid thinking like that when it comes to your relationship with him, you always remind yourself that Rindou is someone who deeply cares for you. He shows it very differently compared to others, but you know.

He can recall a memory from a few weeks ago where you kept getting calls in the middle of your guys’ date. It annoyed him, but not as much as it annoyed you. You’ve pressed the red decline button at least five times now, stressing over it and spilling out everything about your previous ex.

At the end of your rant, Rindou grabbed your phone, picking up the call and saying words as simple as “leave them alone.” It was so simple, but for the next few weeks, it was silent. You finally thought you were free of harassment thanks to your boyfriend, but recently, they’ve been coming back as unknown caller IDs and more frequent than before.

Halfway through the movie, Rindou felt your body become more loose and relaxed beneath him. Your breath became slower and more steady. You had fallen asleep. He thought it was ironic to have someone as angelic as you in the arms of someone like him - a gang member always involving himself in trouble, even just for fun.

He stared at your phone just a reach away and then back at you. The last thing Rindou wanted was for you to be uncomfortable, or really, anything that isn’t where you aren’t happy.

When you woke up, the TV was shut off and you felt a blanket drape over your body. You realized you had fallen asleep from earlier, but you were expecting to find your boyfriend with you as well. That was when the door swung open and you were greeted with Rindou.

“Rindou?” You slowly let out, still adjusting from waking up. “I didn’t know you left.”

He raised a bag up midway in the air, it’s a bag from a bakery you often bought from, “You kept murmuring about it in your sleep. Didn’t want you to wake up all grumpy.”

“I don’t wake up grumpy!” You protested, watching as he took his seat next to you and unpacking all of your favorites.

“Yeah, okay,” Rindou joked. He listened to you puffing out before wrapping yourself around his arm.

“Thank you though,” You murmured out of embarrassment - maybe he was half right.

“It’s nothing,” He replied, softening his face into a grin. “Must’ve been hungry though if it got you talking in your sleep and drooling on my arm.”

You didn’t even know about half of the things he does for you, but he didn’t mind it, because if you were happy, then that was all that mattered.

It made Rindou feel guilty to turn on your phone and look through it. It wasn’t something that he ever felt the need to do - he trusted you and it felt wrong if you weren’t aware that he was using it. Though, at this time, he felt like it was for the better.

While you were silently sleeping, he browsed through your texts. It’s that same person - your ex back again to bother you. Rindou scoffed, making sure it wasn’t loud enough to wake you up, but he was angry. He clicked his tongue whilst composing a message.

Rindou knew you would never be so stupid as to meet up with someone like this, especially not after already experiencing it once. It was a good thing that it was just Rindou posing as you though. How delighted your ex felt to have finally received a response to you - ‘Let’s meet up here.’

Rindou thought it was so pathetic. This guy had no idea what he looked like, let alone that you even had a boyfriend. So when Rindou’s immediate reaction upon seeing him was to throw a punch, he was shocked.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Your ex cried out, trying his best to dodge his attacks but failing in between his words and attempts.

“Me?!” Rindou snapped, pushing him to the ground and twisting his arms. “Speak for yourself.”

The man beneath him screamed in pain, “I-I’ll call the cops on you and have you arrested!”

“Yeah? You think they’ll give me less time if I tell them I was just trying to teach a creep a lesson?” Rindou pulled back on his arms a little harder, tendons and muscles stretching themselves out of place.

“T-The hell are you talking about?!” He stuttered out.

“Don’t bitch around. Might end yourself up in there if you keep this act of yours up - I’ve been once before,” Rindou smirked, pulling back more and more on his arms. “It was fine for me. My big bro and I even got some respect while in there, so what’s gonna happen when they hear about your name from me? You’re fresh meat to them.”

“W-Who even are you?!”

Rindou scoffed, “The same guy who warned you once to leave Y/N alone. I should’ve honestly went to find you myself personally and beat the shit out of you, but I hate wasting my time.”

Your boyfriend let the man go. If his arms weren’t all bent out of place and dislocated, he’d be crawling away by now. It was a sight that Rindou would laugh at. Upon seeing that his phone had fallen out of his pocket, the same phone used to consistently harass you, Rindou stomped down hard, breaking it into bits and pieces.

“Don’t waste my time again. Next time you do, call the cops, I promise you I won’t care if they catch me killing you,” Rindou turned his back around.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

shiver, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader mentions of jimin x reader, namjoon x reader

summary: Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin set you up after vain attempts to cure your, what they call, chronic high-strung workaholic tendencies. Bleh. As if a date with Min Yoongi is going to help the situation. You aren't going on this date and, even if you did, you wouldn't take him home and fuck him all night. Or admit he was giving you that shiver.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, slight crack (you tweezed a hair off Jimin's dick); mentions of previous partners and implied smut; smut (fem reader, mild bondage, f-receiving oral, lil bit of a praise kink, doggy); non-idol!AU - music producer!Yoongi x pansexual, softdom!reader, ft best friend and ex-bf!Namjoon, (maybe too) close friend!Jimin, friend!Taehyung

--

“Look, I like dick, okay? The gender attached to it doesn’t bother me. A dick’s a dick and if you want to put it in me, I’m down, and if you don’t and wanna do other stuff, that’s cool too, I’m just letting you know I like dick–”

“Who are you talking to?”

You exploded, rocketing your desk chair backwards, nearly dropping your phone, gawking at the tall, dark, handsome man with the baritone voice standing in your bedroom door, blinking at you slowly with his brown doe eyes and long lashes, black-brown curls framing his tanned cheekbones and strong brows.

“T-Taehyung?!”

Kim Taehyung raised a sculpted eyebrow. “Why were you practicing a speech about dick?”

You clutched your phone, flapping your jaw loosely, pointing to it, to him, to yourself, rambling nonsense.

“There’s this app and I was writing a message to someone and they were worried about – but I wasn’t sure if it sounded right – and what, why are you here…?”

He raised the other eyebrow. “I want to talk to Jimin about something. He said he was going to stop by later so he gave me your key.” He raised his hand and, there it was, your house key. “Said it was fine if I just walked in.”

Park Jimin… said it was fine… to walk into your apartment? Without asking you first.

Who raised this child?!

To be fair, it was fine. You weren’t upset at Taehyung specifically. You didn’t know him as well as Jimin, who was one of your closest friends, but he was Jimin’s best friend. You trusted Jimin’s choice in friends, but, jeez, he really was lackadaisical when it came down to your personal space. He acted like it didn’t exist.

“Ah… okay,” you said, clearing your throat and placing your phone, screen down, on your desk.

“Why is Jimin hanging out here? You guys dating?” Taehyung asked off-handedly.

You nearly choked on air.

“No, we are not,” you snorted, walking up to him. He looked nice. Taehyung always did. He was casually sexy in his green sweater and dark gray pants. He was the kind of guy who could wear anything and look great simply because he walked around with such calm confidence. “I don’t know exactly; he said we should hang out and watch movies because I’m, how did he put it, a chronic high-strung workaholic who needs divine intervention.”

Taehyung nodded, pursing his lips. “True.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped.

He ignored your outburst. “I suppose he considers himself the divine intervention?”

“Uh, well, yeah, I guess, I didn’t think of it like that–”

“You’ve never thought about his dick?”

You blinked rapidly. “What.”

Taehyung shrugged. “I mean, you guys hang out a lot. And you like dick,” he added, gesturing to your phone, to which you abruptly jerked to stand in front of it so it was no longer in his vision. “You might want to consider seeing his dick.”

“I’ve seen his dick.”

Now it was Taehyung’s turn to blink rapidly. “What.”

You raised your hands in innocence. “He had a hair on his dick.”

“… What.”

You scratched the back of your head. “Well, he had a hair growing on the underside of his dick and he couldn’t get to it so he asked me to help, but you can’t exactly pluck a hair when the dick is limp so I helped him get hard and then I tweezed it off and he was very upset, even though he was the one who asked me to do it so I don’t know why he was so sobby about it, but I ended up putting it in my–”

Taehyung was staring at you, slack-jawed.

You stopped speaking, realizing what you were saying.

Your front door opened.

“Hey, Taehyung! Thanks for leaving the door open for me. Where are you guys? Oh, there you are. What are you guys doing?”

You both turned to look at the cheerful, oblivious face of Park Jimin, his previously blond hair freshly dyed black. He must have been at a hair appointment running late. He sent you both a big, beaming smile.

“Eh?”

-

"I need you to do something."

"What?"

Once again, someone needing you to do something. Who would have guessed? Just an endless cycle of people asking you to do things. When is someone ever going to ask you what you want to do? Hm?

Hmph.

He shoved another spoonful of red bean ice cream in your mouth and you continued listening because of it.

"I need you to sleep with Min Yoongi."

You choked and had a mild brainfreeze.

"Just kidding, I only need you to go on a date with him."

Not much better.

You gawked at Park Jimin, who continued calmly scooping out another spoonful of ice cream to feed you. As if this was normal behavior. You missed the blond hair on him. Blond-haired Jimin didn't suggest this kind of random bullshit. Black-haired Jimin was evil. His hair was full of secrets.

You know, that kind of person.

Jimin lifted the spoon and opened his plump lips as if he was instructing a child how to eat. You gave him an indignant scowl and he shoved the spoon in the crack of your open lips. That got him a disgruntled tut.

"Jimin, I'm not library book, you can’t let your friends borrow me when they need to look taken."

He rolled his eyes, all the sass and lacking in class. "That was one time, and you know Taehyungie's ex was a persistent bitch."

"Yeah, I had to slap her, remember?"

Jimin's hair has been black then too, when he asked you to help him. Mmmhmm. Help.

"She deserved that slap!"

"But why did I have to do it?" you grumbled. "You can slap a ho. You don't need me."

"I shouldn't hit a girl no matter how much of a lying, cheating scumbag she is," Jimin puffed, angrily jabbing at the ice cream and shoving it into your mouth. You glared at him. Why was he taking it out on you? He was lucky you loved this brand, otherwise he'd be getting slapped right now.

"Oh, but I should, okay, cool."

"You'd slap anything and call it your bitch."

You were about to retort but then you lowered your hand, frowning. "Okay, true, but that doesn't explain why you're pawning me off to Yoongi now."

"Because you need it."

And you snapped your head around to see Kim Namjoon, your ex-boyfriend, now best friend, waltz into your bedroom like he owned the damn place. You did, in fact, give him your key and you were expecting him, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise, but you complained anyway, because that’s what humans do. Complain.

"Is nothing sacred in my home?" you muttered as Namjoon grabbed your desk chair and rolled it over to the bed, sitting down in front of you and Jimin. You were wearing black pajamas with little cats on them and Jimin was wearing the yellow ones with little dogs on them. Button-up shirt and long pants. Same brand and style, different print. Namjoon, however, was wearing a white graphic t-shirt and loose brown trousers with thin tortoise-shell and gold framed glasses that didn't have any lenses in them.

You were very tempted to poke him in the eye but, alas, you had some self-restraint.

"I thought you were going to talk about this last night," Namjoon mused, raising an eyebrow at Jimin.

Jimin suddenly seemed incredibly interested in getting the perfect spoonful of ice cream. "I got distracted."

"Horny. He means he got horny."

A violently large chunk of red bean ice cream was shoved in your mouth.

Namjoon laughed at your near-death expression.

"Don't tell him," Jimin hissed. "That's fucking weird. He's your ex."

"Then why would you do it?" Namjoon chuckled. "For the record, the relationship is no longer romantic, so I would no longer have a say even if it did bother me."

"I... well..." The younger man sputtered awkwardly.

You coughed and beat your sternum, glaring at Jimin. "The hell was that for? I rode your dick!"

Namjoon seemed highly amused and suddenly invested. "Ah, yes, and then?"

"Well, maybe it would have helped the situation..." Jimin said shiftily, eyes darting about as he turned bright red.

"Helped what?" you grunted, rubbing your throat at the uncomfortable sensation of a half-frozen esophagus.

"Doesn't seem like it helped," Namjoon remarked, placing a hand on his chin, still smiling.

You narrowed your eyes. "What are you talking about? All Jimin was going on about last night was how he hadn't had a good fuck in years–"

Namjoon snorted. "Years? Huh, that's odd, I seem to recall you getting laid four months ago at that party."

"That was four months ago and it was terrible!" Jimin whined, shaking the spoon. "And why are you talking about this with her, ahhhh!"

You and Namjoon shared a confused look as Jimin freaked out and snarfed down the rest of the ice cream, completely forgetting that he was using it as leverage to convince you of his grand master plan.

"Was it nice?" Namjoon inquired, diverting his attention from Jimin’s panic.

"Yeah, it was nice to have a partner who wasn't a complete idiot for once."

"That's good. I'm surprised you didn't ask before, honestly. You two are always hanging out."

"Never thought about it. What about you?"

"Ah, I fucked that girl who works at that coffee shop."

"Oh, yeah, the one with the nice tits?"

"Mmm, unfortunately that's about as much good as you can say about that one."

"That's sad. I'm sorry."

"Heh, no big deal, it'll happen when it happens. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that."

"Can you guys stop doing that thing?" Jimin grumbled from his spot on the bed, clutching the ice cream container and surrounding himself with your copious amount of cat plushies, including your one-meter-long giant calico cat. His ears were still red.

"What thing?" Namjoon asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, what thing?" you echoed, raising your brows.

Jimin rolled his eyes. "I don't get why you guys broke up."

"Pretty simple reason, really."

"I think it's obvious," you agreed.

Jimin looked from you to Namjoon, frowning.

"Well?' he demanded.

You looked at Namjoon and he caught your eye, trying not to smile. "Oh, he wants us to tell him."

"Huh, kinda seems like it, yeah. A little invasive, don't you think?" Namjoon pretended to think, rubbing his chin.

"He is a little bit of a, how to say this, nosy little brat."

"Hello, I am right here?!"

"That's a little harsh. Perhaps more akin to the local neighborhood bird that's always flying around, intruding on conversations with their loud chirping."

"You are very kind."

Jimin looked livid. He chucked one of your cat plushies at your head and you cracked up, falling to the bed laughing. Namjoon shook his head, laughing with you in that rich, full tone with low depth, a little goofy and with a lot of dimple.

"It's a dumb reason, but basically we weren’t feeling that spark," you explained, sitting up and pushing your hair out of your face. "Sure, we could fuck just fine, but it was too obvious that something was missing. We're better as friends."

"You wanna get married if we're both eighty and single?" Namjoon joked.

"Yikes, if I'm eighty and single, fuck, might as well."

"Perfect, always wanted to know how much libido I would have at that age."

"Anyway," Jimin scowled. "Back to the matter at hand."

"Oh, right, what do you think about Yoongi-hyung? He's single and he’s nice."

You rubbed your nose. “Ah, I don’t know him very well. He’s quiet, isn’t he? I get the impression that he’s a chill and lazy guy. Doesn’t talk much.”

Namjoon nodded. “Maybe you need that.”

You made a face. “Why?”

“You are kind of a chronic high-strung workaholic,” Jimin cut in.

You twitched. “No, I’m not.”

Namjoon nodded sagely. “You kind of are. I would know.”

“Ah, don’t do me like that,” you sighed, admitting defeat.

“Did sleeping with Jimin help?” he prompted.

“Why would that help?”

“Wow, that’s really rude,” Jimin snapped.

“But why would that help me be less of a workaholic?” you retorted, frowning. “I’m not following your logic.”

Namjoon rubbed his chin. “Maybe just a date then. With a calm guy. It will be a change of pace and you can get to know Yoongi-hyung better at the same time.”

You twisted your lips. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I think you’ll like him if you knew him better.”

You frowned.

“I don’t want to be passed around your entire friend group like a hot potato, Namjoon. I’m not going on a date with him.”

-

“Wow, Namjoon, you look a lot like your ex-girlfriend. Is it that new diet?”

Why are you standing here? Why did you agree to this? Why is did people ask you to do things and you do them? Because you were nice, that’s why. Deep, deep down in that frozen glacier canyon you called a heart. Shit. Why couldn’t you just be a bitch? That would make life a whole that easier.

“New diet and a lot of plastic surgery, modelled after the hottest woman I know,” you said sarcastically, turning around to face the deep voice.

“Mmm, I agree.”

You froze a little, seeing Min Yoongi standing there nonchalantly. Black hat with two silver rings punched into it, black leather jacket over a white t-shirt, black jeans with rips at the knees. Nice black boots. Silver hoop earrings and an assortment of silver rings. Yoongi had always dressed well, but it felt strange knowing he still dressed like this even though it was to meet you.

Well, maybe it was just because he was out being seen by people and not you specifically.

“I didn’t know you liked rap,” Yoongi commented, holding up his ticket.

You held up yours. “I like all music. And who doesn’t like Epik High?” You laughed a little. “Funny that you also printed out the ticket. Does that make us old?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I like having a physical copy. For memories.”

“Mmm. Sentimental.”

He looked to the direction of the venue. Then he looked back to you. There was something different in his expression now. You tilted your head. Then you saw his dark brown orbs slide up and down. A strange shiver went up your spine.

Yoongi was checking you out.

And he wasn’t hiding it.

“You look nice.”

You didn’t miss the way the side of his lips curved upwards, giving his words little bit of a dangerous edge.

You looked down at yourself, at the black denim jacket layered over a long black-and-white striped shirtdress. Thick-soled knee-high black boots, because you were going to a concert and wanted to be comfortable. Your mesh silver choker cut into your neck a little from looking downwards. You wore a single ring on your left hand, middle finger.

A silver raven’s skull.

“Ah… should have put forth more effort. You look neater than I do,” you mused, starting to walk.

“Hm.”

You almost didn’t hear his next words.

“If you had put forth more effort, it might have been too risky for me.”

You ticked you head back and found Yoongi smirking at you under his hat, flashing a bit of his white teeth.

“You gonna drink?”

-

“I told you, I gotta drive.”

“I’m not pressuring you. I’m just confused why you would buy overpriced water.”

You clicked you tongue. “Well, they don’t exactly let you bring your own.”

Yoongi chuckled, taking a sip of his beer.

“And besides, you’re buying even more overpriced alcohol, so you’re worse.”

His eyes slid to yours. “I need it.”

You unscrewed the cap and drank the cold water, feeling it ice your veins. “And I need hydration.”

“You don’t drink because you lose control, huh? Control of what, exactly?”

You shifted on your heels. “I get too oppressive. It’s no good for anybody.”

You usually arrived early to these things, so there was time to kill. There were lots of people around, but for some reason it felt like the only person you could hear was Yoongi standing right next to you. The other people around you were only white noise.

“Namjoon and Jimin say you work too much.”

You clicked your tongue. “Namjoon and Jimin need to mind their own business.”

Yoongi chuckled. There was a dry rasp to it, low and sexy. “You still work at that hospital?”

“Yeah. I work on their software. There’s always something wrong with that outdated piece of shit,” you muttered. “Should really just tear it up and overhaul it, but the superiors won’t do it because it’s expensive. Like it isn’t expensive fixing it every five seconds, but okay.”

“Heh, that’s how that generation is. Outdated.”

You huffed. “Mmm, you can say that again.” You cocked your water bottle to him. “You work at the same music company as Namjoon, right? Producer?”

Yoongi nodded. “Mhm.”

You sensed a little bit of embarrassment for some reason. Then you noticed he was looking at your ring.

“You wondering about this?” You turned your wrist and held it up, water swishing behind it.

“You always wear it. Namjoon give it to you?” he asked, taking another sip of his beer.

You shook your head, laughing a little. “Nah. Different ex.” You looked down at it. “And they didn’t give it to me. They said something to me and it stuck with me. When I saw this ring, I decided to buy it.”

You recalled the quote like it was yesterday.

“Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door.”

Yoongi blinked at you.

You translated the English from Korean and he raised his eyebrows.

“Edgar Allan Poe?”

You dropped your hand, clicking your tongue. “Basically saying I was a lingering poison of a human being and they wanted to break up with me.”

Yoongi tutted. “Interesting. How creative.”

You rolled your eyes. “What I get for fucking literature majors during university, I guess.”

“But you brought the ring anyway.”

You paused, looking down at the silver raven skull.

“To remind myself to stop fucking literature majors.”

You looked up at Yoongi and his eyes searching your expression. It was suddenly a weird moment, his eyes so solidly on you, as if he could see everything, but that was impossible. Your skin tingled all over, even under your clothes.

“They were insecure, huh?” he murmured.

You shrugged. “Made me question every fucking interaction I've ever had, wondering if I left the wrong impression or could be misinterpreted or some shit. Everything was so messed up.” You frowned, adjusting your shoulder slightly, sighing out the thoughts of the past. “Ah, it was a long time ago anyway. I’ve already erased them.”

“Is that why you broke up with Namjoon?”

You rolled your eyes. “Why does everybody think there’s some big drama between Namjoon and I? Would we still be friends if there was something that serious?”

Yoongi took another sip. “I think I speak for everyone when I say it seemed like you suited each other.”

“Hah, it’s not that we don’t have similarities. Kind of the opposite, really.” You waved a hand. “You know, two people have certain preferences and one of us was always on the bottom and neither of us liked that. Maybe it was him or me, and I love the guy, but not like that. We could fuck and it would be great, but we both agreed there wasn’t that… feeling. That shiver you get with that person. Sometimes I think we only got together because everyone kept pressuring us, saying we should, and not because we actually wanted to.”

“Hmm.”

The lights dimmed and you turned to face the stage.

“What about Jimin?”

“What about him?”

“Heard you plucked a hair off his dick.”

You twitched. “Let me guess, Taehyung told you.”

“Taehyung told everyone. He was a bit drunk.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Jimin’s a great friend, but he’s a bit clingy with me. Always wants to be near someone. It can be good for some people, but I don’t think I could take it twenty-four-seven if we were actually dating. Not my type.”

“Do you have a type?”

You shot Yoongi a look as the crowd began to hum with excitement. “Do you?”

Those cat-like eyes gleamed in the impeding darkness, a flash of white from his open-mouthed smirk.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to this date if I didn’t.”

-

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yeah, it was great. Never seen you excited like that, eh, Yoongi?” You smacked him lightly in the arm, smirking. “That’s the most energy I’ve ever seen you have.”

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. His cheeks were lightly pink, although he didn’t seem drunk. “I have energy. I’m just not wasting it.”

“Hmm.”

A short silence as the crowd filtered out around you, but again, even though you were surrounded by people, the only one that seemed to be heard was the man in front of you, peering down at you from underneath his black cap, a small smirk on his lips, tiny flash of pink tongue as he moved it inside his mouth.

“You driving home, yes?”

“Yeah.” You stared into his brown eyes. “Want a ride?”

An eyebrow lifted. “Inviting me to fuck?”

Blunt.

You scoffed. “Nah. I already told Namjoon and Jimin I’m not gonna be passed around their friend group like a hot potato. This was nice though. I enjoyed it.”

He looked you up and down again. That strange shiver went up and down your spine again. He stared you down. You stared back, unrelenting. The world was loud, but this moment was your eyes and his eyes, electricity between them.

Yoongi’s smirk widened.

-

"I always wanted a beautiful woman to tie me up."

Men. Women. Nonbinary. Agender. Gender neutral. Gender fluid. Didn't fucking matter, people were people, and they always wanted shit from you. Always. It was always about what they could get from you and how they could pretend to be what you wanted to get what they wanted. Everyone always looking out for themselves.

You could respect that.

Just, for once, it would be nice if someone wanted to give you what you wanted.

You cracked your neck and looked down at his dark eyes covered in messy black hair, his pale cheeks less pink now, his head on your pillows and sandwiched in between your plethora of cat plushies, pink lower lip in his teeth.

Smirking.

Wasn't hiding a damn thing.

"Who knew you could be a bad boy, Min Yoongi?"

His smirk widened, tongue between his teeth.

"I'm good when I'm good. When I'm bad, I'm better."

His black cap with the two silver rings was somewhere on your bedroom floor and so was his leather jacket, his shirt, his jeans, and his socks. His pale wrists were tied together with red bondage rope. Yours. You were straddling his chest, missing only one article of clothing.

Alright, you were missing socks too.

No one fucked with socks on. If you did, maybe it was time to reevaluate your life.

“You don’t mind being tied up, hm?” you taunted, sliding out of your jacket, tossing it aside.

Everyone wanted something.

What did Min Yoongi want?

Yoongi let his tongue slide out, dancing in the air. Taunting you back before replying.

“Just because you’re tied up doesn’t mean you’re not in control.”

Your hand paused in front of the button placket of your shirtdress. You traced a button with your thumb, slowly, watching his face. Spread your legs more, lowering yourself, hovering over him. You could feel him breathe under you, patient, humming with energy. He flitted the wet pink muscle, skimming his lower lip, waiting. Dark brown orbs hazed with lust under strands of black.

“You wanna stop after sitting on my face, that’s fine, but you have to at least sit on my face.”

You chuckled. “Yeah?”

You sat down on his torso and he sucked in a breath, eyes flicking down to the darkness still covered by your shirt, then back up to your face. You shifted your hips slowly, smearing the hot, dripping softness on his skin.

“Could just… stop here.”

You scooted upward, drawing a fat line of your juices up his chest and to his neck. You knew how much pressure to apply. Didn’t seem to matter though, because Yoongi didn’t seem to give a fuck. He tipped his head back, pressing his Adam’s apple into your throbbing heat and shuddering in pleasure. His gaze found yours and you stopped, suddenly trapped, a moment of his eyes and your eyes, electricity flaring between them.

“I’m glad Namjoon asked me to take you on a date,” Yoongi drawled, deep voice vibrating your heated, wet core from his throat. “Made me feel less guilty about wanting to fuck you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Got some weird bro code rules or something?”

He smirked. “Oh, I respect him.” He swallowed and you felt a shiver slide up your spine, feeling the action from your throbbing pussy faster than you heard it. “I just want you more.” Exhale, and you felt the warmth against your shirt, making it flutter. You unbuttoned it slowly, one by one. “Want to see the satisfaction on your face when I make you cum.” Slowly, not parting the shirt yet, letting him see the line of exposed skin. His eyes travelled up and down shamelessly, not hiding anything. He noticed you observing him and grinned.

That open-mouthed smirk, teeth and hint of tongue.

“Come on. Give it to me.”

Voice so deep it seemed to be shimmering through you, dark eyes flashing in the darkness.

Teasing you.

“Gonna make you cum so hard, you’ll untie me and beg me to fuck you.”

You cocked a brow.

“Let’s see.”

You sat on his face.

You felt Yoongi’s smirk against your soaked folds for a second before his tongue slid in, instantly making your thighs tense at the sensation. Hot to hot, wet to wet, no, wetter, your hands on your headboard as his tongue curled inside you, thrusting upwards, drinking the wetness from you, low moan vibrating through your torso and you felt his eyes on you, on your shirt slowly opening, one shoulder gliding down, and you shrugged out of it, suddenly boiling, skin pricking from the heat of his gaze, tossing it aside, leaving you in your black bra.

He tipped his chin up and you gasped, feeling his tongue swipe upward, fuck, a smooth, deft motion, circling your clit. You clicked your tongue and rolled your hips into his face. Yoongi chuckled before latching onto it and sending a burning wave of pleasure through you.

Your nails dug into the headboard, making a loud scrape.

He purred your name against your packed nerves and you drenched his chin, glaring down at him.

Yoongi had the audacity to bounce his eyebrow in response.

Alright, you could admit it.

Going on a date with Min Yoongi was not a waste of time.

You grinded against his face and he sucked and licked your clit at the same time, fuck, moans in his throat, not unaffected by you humping his face, but resolute, focused on his task of pleasuring you, shivering as your hand fitted around his head, fingers tangling in his already messy black hair, roughly fucking his face as his tongue assaulted you, somehow the perfect mix of demanding and servitude, hot exhale on your skin, your juices covering his chin and cheeks, your soft thighs pressed against his face, teetering between suffocating and barely enough breath, closer, closer, the tightness rising within you, looking down as you felt your opening flexing against his chin and his eyes flickered up to you instantly, imprinting the memory of his dark brown orbs overtaken by black pupils staring into yours, lips wrapped around your clit, in the midst of pushing you to the edge.

“Fucking shit,” you hissed. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

Something flitted in his eyes and he looked back down immediately, increasing his pace and you moaned, closed fist against the headboard, but not missing his reaction. A slow smile grew on your lips, hand in his hair relaxing, massaging his scalp.

“You like being praised?” you purred, sweet octave to your voice.

The quickest flick of his gaze before licking your clit furiously as a reply.

Hot sparks igniting your veins, drawing in a tight breath, staring down, putting a little more weight on him, but Yoongi didn’t say anything, not even looking at you anymore, so close. You knew it would only take a little more. You could tell from the viscous slickness that was coating his skin that you had maybe seconds left.

“A handsome face and talented tongue,” you breathed. “No wonder I couldn’t resist you, Yoongi.”

His whimper made you tremble in delight, eyes to eyes, addicted to it, him to you and you to him, and you gasped his name, biting your lip and throwing your head back as your hips rocked into his mouth and spilled onto his face with a wet squelch, fuck, so much even you could smell it, hearing Yoongi groan as it filled his mouth, his tongue shoving into your folds and lapping up the rapid pulses, your throbbing clit on the back of his tongue, pressing into you, his nose in your crotch, one of your hands in his hair and one on the headboard, muscles flexing and quivering with the ecstasy, eyelids closing, immersed in it. Savoring the feeling coursing through your body, from your core to your limbs to your head, filling you with shivers that were unlike anything you had ever felt before.

You removed some pressure from his face, letting go of his head, but Yoongi followed, hungrily licking you all over, nipping at your inner thighs, flinches of pleasure extending your high before going back to your pussy, up, down, side to side, drenching you in his saliva and drinking your cum like it was his fucking life force.

Well, shit.

You opened your eyes, panting.

Damn.

You had a whole speech prepared for Namjoon and Jimin about how setting you up with their friends was a bad idea and how they should mind their own fucking business and now you had to prepare a speech about how you needed your house keys back because you were going to fuck Min Yoongi every second of every day and you hadn’t even had his dick yet.

You looked down at him.

Yoongi’s eyes were slightly unfocused, exhaling heavily against your crotch, staring at it.

“Fuck me, you have a pretty pussy,” he muttered under his breath. “Fuck.”

Half of your cat plushies were on the bed and the other half were on the floor.

“You have an excellent tongue,” you chuckled. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

He blinked once and his gaze was on you, half-shyness, half-cockiness, wholly sexy as fuck.

“Didn’t want to make Namjoon feel bad,” he snickered, pink lips shiny with your juices. “You would have left him a lot sooner if you knew.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Something about his tone make you think Yoongi meant it on some level.

You wouldn’t have tried to find out, but now that you experienced it…

Maybe.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

Yoongi gave you that smirk you were beginning to become addicted to seeing. “That all you want from me?”

You laughed, sly and full.

“No, Yoongi, I’m gonna need your dick.”

-

“I don’t beg, so I’m not untying you.”

“Damn, what a terrible result.”

Yoongi didn’t seem the least bit worried about it.

He sank his nails into your ass and pushed himself in, your hand snaked below to guide him. You weren’t unreasonable, after all. You helped him put on the condom and shoved your tits in his face, rubbing your nipples all over his cheeks, his pink tongue stretching from side to side, eyes on you the entire time, getting harder and harder with the way you manhandled him, moaning into your skin.

Not hiding anything.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hissed, gritting his teeth, gripping your ass, wrists still bound. He violently smacked his hips into your ass and you grinned, hands now on the bed.

“Mmm, what a nice…” You pulsed, making Yoongi groan. “Hard.” Again, hearing his ecstasy. “Cock.” He scraped your ass and up your back, gasping for breath, desperation in his touch. You turned your head, giving him the reflection of his own smirk. He gazed back, eyes glazed over, torso shuddering from the repeated massaging of his length buried in you, all from your muscle control.

“Hold on, Yoongi.”

Something between teasing and adoration, and you visibly saw Yoongi tremble in excitement.

“You got it.”

You turned back and sank your hands into your pillows, sliding on his stiffness and ramming yourself back onto it, making both him and you groan in unison, rough, deep strokes of visceral fucking, you commanding the pace. Didn’t matter if you were the one on your hands and knees, you used him and he wanted to be used, barely able to grip your waist, moaning your name and fucking you back, loud, sloppy smacks of ass to crotch, flexing your shoulder blades akin to a lioness on the prowl chasing their prey, and you heard Yoongi chuckle, breathing swallow and euphoric.

“Look at this back view, fuck, you are the sexiest woman alive.”

Breathless with desire, smug at having you, in awe of your prowess, all at once, clutching the small of your waist as you clenched around him, the shudders of your walls closing in, painting his crotch and balls with you, his quivering moan trapped in his chest because he could barely get it out. You caught your lower lip between your teeth, feeling him fill you as you pushed back, the rush immeasurable, unfathomable, anchoring your palms into your mattress and growling his name, the smacking of hips to hips, desperation to desperation, a brief reprieve as you snatched a cat plush and jammed it under your chest before you reached back and felt for the end of the rope, unlacing the knot with ease, and Yoongi yanked his wrists free with a swift hiss of satisfaction, grabbing your ass and fiercely fucking you, harder, rougher, just as much for him as it was for you, your name falling from his lips, unable to hide his lust, chasing it, chasing you, and you didn’t let up.

“Yoongi, fuck, yes, your cock feels so fucking good, fuck!”

Deep, intense, powerful, everything you were and everything he was, and it all crashed down, stealing your breath, pleasure clawing up your spine and taking over, lungs suddenly emptied with the force of each hard pulse of pleasure snaking upwards to fill the void, squeezing him so hard that you weren’t sure if that was voluntary or not, your joined inner thighs trembling and dripping, sweet slickness sliding down, drenching you and Yoongi, his groan piercing the air and cutting through your thoughts. His cock twitched and jerked, pumping thick gushes of cum and swelling the condom inside you.

Fucking shit, did you hold your breath? Everything lightheaded and hazy, reaching up and slapping your hand against the headboard, sucking in a lungful of air and rocking your hips back, riding the wave. Your felt Yoongi’s grip on your waist tighten, his pants so heavy you could feel the weight of his exhale on your back, heating your skin.

Snarl in your throat, definitive.

“I need this cock, Yoongi, need you and this perfect cock and I’m going to use it until I’m done.”

Rolling your hips, listening to his wanton moan at your words and the sensation, the messy squish of your movement, clenching around the sensitive head, slow, tight, your fingers curling to a fist, his name on your lips, low and seductive, and he responded in kind, your name in the same tone, drunk on the moment, the feeling, the power you had over him.

His nails in your back, creating long lines down your spine, and the shiver you got with that person, dancing up and down your vertebrate, unmistakable.

Yoongi gave it to you.

-

“Hey, so how’d it go–whoa!”

You popped your head out of your mountain of cat plushies and glared at the offender who burst into your bedroom. Who the fuck was that?

Guess.

“Jimin, do you know what personal space is?” Yoongi muttered from beside you, lifting himself on his elbows to peer disapprovingly over your naked shoulder.

“He doesn’t,” you mumbled, flopping back down.

“So… went well?” came Jimin’s cheerful and teasing voice from the doorframe.

You heard a cat plush get thrown like a cannonball.

“Ow, fuck, okay, I get it, hyung!” Jimin cackled, stumbling down your hallway. “I’ll come back later!”

“Don’t,” Yoongi snapped back, grumbling as he slid back down on the bed.

“You better pick him back up later,” you warned, referring to the plush.

“You dumped half of them on the ground so we could sleep.”

“No, they fell because we were fucking.”

You opened your eyes to see Yoongi smirking at you. There was a cat plush next to his head. One of your favorites. You picked it up and bonked him in the head with it. He made a disgruntled grunt and flinched away from it, ending up closer to your face. Eyes to eyes, electricity between them. You smirked, matching him, leaning in, arm curving around his head.

Tapping the tuxedo cat plush on his shoulder.

His breath against your lips, lust and fondness, not hiding anything.

“Hey, Yoongi.”

“Hm?”

Playing along, a willing participant in your games, one eye open, as if he was winking at you.

“I like you. You’re mine.”

He chuckled, a little raspy, a little embarrassed, and a lot amused.

“Sit on my shoulder, my raven. I’ll never ask you to leave.”

--

masterpost

[bigskydreaming]

I am once more begging people, BEGGING, to at least READ Batman #416 if you’re going to cite every moment of Dick meeting Jason and then blowing up at Bruce, except in a totally ‘that’s not at all how it happened’ kinda way.

If I have to read ONE MORE sizzling hot take about how Dick blew up at Bruce and stormed off at the end of that encounter, when THIS is how it ACTUALLY ended....

Ah yes, the famous Dick Grayson temper, better described as ‘someone else loses their shit at Dick and fandom twists it into the exact opposite so he’s actually the bad guy all along.’

Was Dick heated before that point? Yup. Did he have reason to be? Also yup. Did Bruce, however, have reason to be heated that Dick had the gall to be coming back to his childhood home to confront him about the fact that after eighteen months of not speaking, when Bruce is the one who CHOSE to not even say goodbye to Dick or make any effort to still make a place for Dick in his life after firing him, with the only possible indication in all that time through which Dick was expected to come up with even an INKLING that Bruce missed him was discovering from reading the paper that Bruce had given his old mantle to a new, even younger partner? Its gonna be a big fat NOPE from me, guys.

There’s an exchange between them a few pages before this that always resonated with me....

Bruce: The truth is, I taught you everything I could. It was time for you to step out on your own.

Dick: So you figured the best thing for you to do was drive me out of your life, right? That’s exactly what you do to anyone who gets too close. Always hurt them before they have a chance to hurt you. It didn’t matter to you that I didn’t have any life other than the one we shared.

Like, I can not express any more clearly why it drives me so B-A-N-A-N-A-S to see people spin this so that it was Bruce that was somehow the victim of his son’s tempestuous, nomadic ways. Like he was somehow left behind, that Dick outgrew him or moved on, and everything Dick felt about Robin after the fact was him throwing spoiled temper tantrums that someone dared pick up something he no longer wanted. Umm. No times infinity and beyond.

Bruce was the one with all the power. Bruce was the one making all the choices. All Dick had, at most, was the choice to either stay somewhere Bruce seemed intent on driving him away from, or go somewhere else. This issue clearly expressed that like. Bruce wasn’t open to talking. Not when he fired Dick as Robin, there was no negotiating that, and even throughout this whole encounter here, where Dick comes here and says “I think you owe me some explanations” because based on everything Bruce was doing and how radically opposed those actions are to the last interactions he and Bruce had, which had a HUGE impact on Dick’s life, yes, he WAS owed explanations here, make no mistake....even here, Bruce spends the whole encounter acting like he’s being unfairly interrogated, like its trying his patience to even have to deal with Dick being there at all....

Phones work two ways, Bruce. There’s two people in this dynamic. If you haven’t heard from Dick in eighteen months, its equally true that he hasn’t heard from you in eighteen months. And if you missed him so damn much, you know what was always a perfectly valid way to express that, which DIDN’T involve anyone else? Picking up the damn phone and calling Dick and telling him that.

Bruce acts like that was never even an option, like HE was the one stuck with limited choices based on Dick’s behavior throughout all this time, and that’s just flat out, unconditionally, one hundred percent, NOT TRUE. Bruce was the one in charge. The one calling the shots. The one with the resources, the power, the authority. Dick was ALWAYS the one who had more to lose, of the two of them.

And Bruce knew all this when he took Dick in. He knew all this when he took Robin away from Dick while the latter was still a teenager, still living at home. And he was the one who failed to even so much as OFFER Dick an alternative take on how he could still be there, still be in Bruce’s life, part of his family, still share in being part of his life, the life the two of them had shared, now that Bruce had made the choice that Dick no longer had the option of living out his part of that life in the manner they’d BOTH built up for him originally.

And yet for so many years, fandom has added insult to injury by acting like the cherry on top here, Bruce giving away the very mantle he took from Dick, like this was somehow completely reasonable because in comparison, Dick is the one being unreasonable. People completely gloss over that little act of Bruce’s to focus instead on how Dick reacted, instead of giving that betrayal of trust its own fair due and focus, and the problem is....they don’t even actually focus on how Dick actually acted! Again, notice it was Dick who approached Bruce, and Bruce who told Dick to leave. It was Dick who had actual cause to be angry, but Bruce who blew up and broke shit because Dick dared demand answers. 

And this is the way Dick leaves things with Jason, btw. I know people know this part by now, mostly at least, about the phone number and such, but how many people have actually SEEN how that played out rather than just heard it summarized in a dry recitation of events that underplays just how that interaction went?

Like, that wasn’t just Dick acting like this was being FORCED upon him and bleeding reluctance at every turn. He went above and fucking beyond to make Jason feel welcomed and secure in his position as Robin. But that’s not how the narrative goes in fandom, is it? Even when acknowledging this part, people act like Dick was at most doing the bare minimum, instead of acknowledging that Dick didn’t owe anyone this at all. No, it wasn’t Jason’s fault he became Robin, but NONE of this was Dick’s fault, Dick’s choice, or Dick’s RESPONSIBILITY. He wasn’t living at home, in Bruce’s life, and he wasn’t adopted yet let alone even still Bruce’s ward at this point. He’d aged out at eighteen. Dick had NO actual ties to Bruce and by extension Jason at this particular moment in time, and thus no ACTUAL obligations to either of them, no matter how much fandom harps on him having failed Jason as a brother back during this time when more accurately, Bruce was actively failing Dick as a father - as in not even being one, but Dick’s responsibilities towards a family he didn’t have at the moment are supposed to be still intact? NOPE. Don’t think so.

But Dick, INSTEAD, puts Jason FIRST, puts him OVER his obviously hurt and bitter feelings to focus on what’s best for Jason here, and gives him literally everything he CAN to do right by Jason here. He gives Jason his own old costume and clear approval, cementing Jason’s place as Robin in a way not even Bruce could when giving it to Jason, because it was never Bruce’s to actually pass on. Jason even wonders earlier in the issue if Dick might want his old role back, and Dick puts that fear to rest, without any hesitation or doubt.

In addition, Dick offers up support and solidarity he doesn’t owe Jason, doesn’t owe anyone, because its HIS time, HIS support, its not something someone can take for granted and yet too many people do....especially considering that in the hyper-fixation on how much support and time Dick supposedly DIDN’T offer or grant Jason, most people pay next to no attention to the fact that it wasn’t like Dick was being given time or support by Bruce, ie Dick is going out of his way to offer stuff he’s not even getting himself, because he RECOGNIZES from that what its like not to have it. Basically what I mean is all that talk about Dick being a hypocrite for doing to others what he complains about Bruce not doing for him? Patently untrue, as we see here, because this is Dick actively acting upon what he’s missing out on by making sure that others don’t miss out on it because of Bruce’s failings or emotional repression.

And look at the end result.....Jason’s enjoying his teamup with Dick, these aren’t two people who look pained at being forced into proximity or acting like the other is a burden to be around or thinking the other doesn’t really want to be here. They were comfortable from practically the word go, because Dick knows how to make people uncomfortable but he also knows how to make people comfortable, and he made the CHOICE, the INTENT to make sure he was someone Jason felt WANTED to be there with him, the complete opposite of someone who is taking out their bitterness or resentment on their replacement or at least not trying to hide it very well.

So my question is.....what the hell else is it people wanted Dick to do? When they cite this issue specifically, at least, when they talk about the time Dick went to Gotham to confront Bruce about Robin, when they talk about the phone number or the costume or the teamup or the things that so often get mentioned in passing like they’re insignificant or the bare minimum or mere formalities that do nothing to take away from all the supposed OTHER asshole behavior that Dick allegedly heaped on Jason despite never actually happening anywhere, even a little bit, and thus that some people claim is just an extrapolation of how Dick PROBABLY acted off the page, given his clear resentment and jealousy....umm. Huh? Based off THIS? Seriously, I mean it. What ELSE was Dick supposed to have done, to counter that take, what else could he POSSIBLY have done to do right by Jason here, that he didn’t actually already do? What exactly did people want from this character, in order to not hold this eternal grudge they have against him for what a big old jerk he was to Jason, who did nothing to deserve it - with that part being true at least, and literally WHY Dick made the point to recognize that and not take out his feelings on Jason?

Like, this will never not be an axe for me to grind because like. The SPIN fandom always gives all this, when look at the last page of this issue......Bruce is watching from a distance, and even he’s like thanks Dick, and that honestly bugs me so much. Because in the end, the only one of these three characters who DIDN’T get what he wanted here, was Dick. Jason got the validation and security as Robin he was looking for, the approval of his predecessor, and words of advice and an offer to listen and be there should he ever want to talk. Bruce got Dick’s validation of the actions Bruce took that he had no right to take when giving his old mantle to Jason, but that Dick ratified all the same, even if it was for Jason’s sake and not Bruce’s. Bruce still got the closure on that particular mistake of his, with the evidence that Dick was willing to see past it for Jason’s sake rather than drag it out....like. Dick is the only one who didn’t get what he was looking for there, he didn’t even get an apology from Bruce for overstepping when he passed on Dick’s mantle, an acknowledgment that this was WRONG, the most Dick got was Bruce admitting for a single panel that he missed him.....before telling Dick to leave and get out and effectively taking back anything Dick could have possibly taken away from that admittance. Because what the fuck does it matter if someone misses you if even though they finally have you right there in front of them, they still tell you to leave again anyway?

In conclusion, I hate this issue, lol, because everybody seems to know what’s in it and yet practically nobody ever seems interested in referencing what’s ACTUALLY in it. Instead just forever playing telephone with the most bad faith interpretation of Dick’s actions possible.

[theseusurus]

Lost in a Haze, Fighting Fate | Part 1.

Summary: Y/N Raven has always suffered from their sight, From a young age Y/N could just always seem to predict the future however they just thought they were lucky, after attending Hogwarts and discovering their Seer Roots they began to trust it more and more however that can not be said for others. When Y/N fled Hogwarts they left everything behind, their teen love, their friends, family, and now with what seems like all sides against them, will they be ignored like seers before them and feed into temptation or will they fight for the good in the wizarding world and their love?

PART 1: THE RETURN OF THE ORACLE

Warnings: Mentions Bullying

Pairing: Bill Weasley x Reader (Slow Burn)

Word Count: 2.8k

The Abraxan Pulled Blue carriage creaked with life for what seemed like the thousandth time tonight as you sat with Madame Maxine -Olympe- as she wanted you to call her as you now were a professor and the students.

You fidgeted with your hands and sighed as you fixed the navy veil that covered your face and made sure to smooth out the silky navy uniform decorated with thousands of moving and dancing stars and constellations that Olympe had made just for you after she had promoted you to Head divination master.

Olympe sighed and placed a hand on yours before bending down and smoothing out your veil.

¨Little Star, you must calm down, you are antsier than the Abraxans before they've had their whiskey¨

She said with a laugh before seeing your still grim face under the veil, though the veil was hard to see through and hexed so only those who you wished could see under it she had grown able to tell your expressions with it. She sighed again and smoothed down your hair that stuck out from under your veil,

¨I know your time at Hogwarts was hard petite étoile, but little star you must not let zem ruin your time, look at you now! A Leading star of the divination field and one of the best seers in Europe! They regret never treating a shining star like you as what you are now! We will win this tournament and be a beacon of excellence and poise and that goes for all of you!¨

The students looked up and smiled at you before saying a cheer in French that left you a bit confused but in a better spirit, though you've been teaching at Beauxbaton for three years now you still struggled a bit with your french however many students struggled with English so in your class you all tried your best and the first year you all struggled together to communicate with the language barrier.

The boys and girls who had volunteered to come to the Triwizard tournament were some of your favorites, especially Fleur and her sister Gabrielle who had been the firsts to volunteer especially since they had never been to Hogwarts especially Scotland before and had heard your stories of the beautiful castle and breathtaking view.

¨We are almost there. Everyone, be ready, I want you all to be on your best behavior, am I understood? I want backs straight, smiles big and you all are ready? Come, come, I will check your uniforms one last time, Oh Fleur come here sweetie your hat! Oh, you all look amazing, oh I am about to cry, how proud you all make me!¨

Olympe looked three seconds from crying before You handed her your handkerchief and rubbed her back,

¨Oh Olympe, I know, don't cry remember we must be nothing but big smiles remember? We are going to blow them away! Oh yes everyone make sure to not flutter your capes too much until the entrance we don't want to let the Butterflies out too early¨

The girls nodded eagerly some talking to each other, whispering about things you can only imagine, some topics sticking out you could hear over the giggling, while the boys were helping each other straighten out their uniforms and mentioned durmstrang especially the girls which caused you to let out a little laugh which caused the boys to look up and fluster.

With that, you heard a loud voice and peaked out the window and saw Hagrid leading the Abraxan horses down the landing area and clapped excitedly. Before the Carriage landed harshly on the runway causing you to jolt before and fixing the beret on your head and standing.

You clapped happily before popping the Carriage door open, launching yourself out the door and falling feet first on the wet Scottish Grass and laughing as you helped up the students one at a time out of the carriage as they plopped down as well and complained about how the wet grass was sticking to their newly waxed shoes.

Hagrid rushed over and smiled as you helped Madam Maxine out of the carriage, her true height showing as she exited the carriage, she stood proud and tall over Hagrid and smiled as he turned Rosey and blushed at her before bending down and kissing her hand.

He began welcoming her with a shaky voice that seemed more fit for one of the first-year students rather than the tall bearded half-giant.

You smiled under your veil clearing your throat, before speaking in a thick French Accent that made a few of your students turn and give you a questioning look, all-knowing you were originally English and knew hell barely spoke a quarter of the french language.

“excusez Moi Monsieur, where iz my classroom, Madame Maxine was promised I would be given a room to perform my services during my stay”

Hagrid nodded excitedly and began to lead you, Olympe, and the students to the castle.

¨Yes, yes! They Are finishing it up now! We are all excited to see your work Professor, especially Professor Trelawney, she has been a big fan for a while you know.¨

You simply shake your head and smile, though you doubt anyone could see it under your veil, Trelawney was one of your favorite professors to have during your short time at Hogwarts, she was one of the few people excited that you were a Seer and was very supportive of you during your time, especially during the constant bullying you faced in your youth, that reminds you did have to thank her for that.

¨Oui, I bet they sure are Monsieur, however, it iz getting a bit late, shall we head to ze castle, I am how you say uh heureux?¨ ¨Happy?¨ A student chirped, ¨Ah Yes Happy! I Can not wait to see all the new faces! Come, Children follow the gentil géant, Let's Go, shall we? Oui?¨

With that, you Nodded at Hagrid as you turned back to the Carriage and pulled out a Black carry on Trunk from the space under your seat and slammed the carriage while Knocking on the door and yelling ¨Vous êtes doué!” before the Carriage shot off towards the castle as you turned back to Hagrid and started following him towards the Castle, the one that you once called home.

You and the students of both schools, your own and Durmstrang, were preparing to be announced and called in by Dumbledore and could quite clearly hear the students of Hogwarts gossiping amongst themselves, while you listened carefully against the door you could hear some of the Durmstrang students flirting with your students,

you Cleared your throat loudly which caused the Durmstrang girls to drop the poor 3rd-year boy that they were flirting with, he shot you a smile which you responded with a nod before you heard Dumbledore getting ready to introduce you all, You gathered up your students along with Olympe.

“Remember what we practiced everyone, Grab your partner, chop-chop! He is about to announce us, remember to release the butterflies at the dip!” “For Now please join me in Welcoming The Lovely students of Beauxbaton Academy of Magic and their Head Master, Madam Maxine, along with their Professor, and Head Seer Delphi!”

With that, the First Row of partners pushed open the door and walked out, arm and arm. Students of all kinds became locked in an intricate dance, twirling and spinning one another looking like Ballerinas straight from a performance dressed in baby blue silk.

Row by row they walked out and once they reached the end of the Tables, they Dipped their partners as Baby blue butterflies spilled out from under their capes leaving, most students stunned, muttering to one another about how beautiful the students looked before Olympe and you walked out.

You walked side by side with Olympe as she admired the students staring with a smirk before looking down at you, as you walked beside her your cape was shimmering and waving the constellations on it with each step before they reached the end of the cape and popped out shooting out constellations and stars all around you and Olympe before they swirled around you at your shoulders and slid down the cape again, your veil and lack of Face or even identity was obviously causing an issue with the Hogwarts students.

You both reached the end of the tables before bowing your heads to the clapping students as your students all did a curtsy at their new classmates for the tournament. You saw Dumbledore placing a kiss on Olympe’s hand before turning to place one on your gloved hand causing you to draw it back and make a face a disgust even though no one could see which was funny to your students apparently as they turned and laughed quietly behind their hands from the sides of the Great Hall where you joined them before dumbledore ran back to his Stand to announce Durmstrang.

“Now Please Treat the Proud Students of Durmstrang and their high master, Igor Karkaroff

With that welcome, the Durmstrang Students walked in all carrying staffs tapping them in a rhythm and grunting? Singing? You didn’t know how to describe it along to the beat, as each staff hit the ground they produced a light spark before they began to sprint and do tricks with their staffs before Viktor Krum and the Headmaster walked in and as they reached the end of the tables released a fire phoenix that surrounded him before shooting off into the roof and disappearing leaving you highly impressed with the effort of their performance.

Dumbledore lifted his arms and embraced Igor as he smiled and called for Dumbledore-albus? Who knows as they laughed and embraced each other once more.

¨Hogwarts! Let's entertain our friends in the best way we can! Everyone stand!”

Dumbledore led the Children of Hogwarts in song which with the off-key voices and the interesting choice of words including Hoggy hoggy Hogwarts in was rather confusing, the students and headmasters along with yourself looked rather confused and muttered amongst yourselves as the Hogwarts school continued their song.

As the Song finished Dumbledore announced to the students to sit wherever they would like among the four tables and mingle with another as he led you and the headmasters to the Professor’s table. You sat In Between Olympe and Igor as you sat in your chair you heard Olympe talking to Dumbledore.

¨Professor Dumbley-dore my horses have traveled a long way they will need attending to!¨

¨Surely Madame Maxine! Our Gatekeeper Hagrid is more than capable!¨ Hagrid smiled to himself and nodded at Dumbledore´s praise earning a chuckle from you and a nudge from Olympe.

¨As you know Monsieur Hagrid, they drink only single malt whiskey¨

Hagrid nodded excitedly before going down to get a bite of his food and missing his plate and stabbing his associate´s hand instead causing said professor to yell and call him an idiot, causing Hagrid to hang his head embarrassed.

As Dumbledore continued his speech about eternal glory and greatness, a storm had begun to brew on the mirroring roof with thick thunder and lightning sparking around the room some students had begun to scream causing a panic, you had just started to shush them and try and calm them down when it was shut down when Alastor Moody walked into the room and cleared it.

You could hear students beginning to mutter amongst themselves at the entrance of the man, you simply looked his way before turning to Olympe and whispering up to her as you both watched Moody walk around the room and be greeted by Dumbledore.

¨Madame that man is a walking travesty, did Dumbledore warn you about him being here?¨ ¨Of course, not dear, that old man does very little to warn us about his surprises it seems.¨

You both gave a look of disgust as you watch Moody turn his back to the children and tag a swig out of his flask, ¨Nothing but a damn drunk nowadays Olympe.¨

You watch as The minister and Dumbledore announce the Goblet of Fire and announce no one under 17 may participate, giving you some ease as many of your students were under 17. You however have grown tired from the long trip and all the worries of the day so you stood from the table rubbing at your temples over your veil and sighing, grabbing attention from everyone but mainly from Moody and Olympe.

Olympe shoots you a questioning look but you just shake your head and begin heading down the tables leaving a train of stars as you go from your robes, the stars swirling around you before floating towards students and popping with clusters of glitter following it and you could hear someone, who you assume is Moody, following you down the Great hall.

Quickly you started sprinting through the halls as you follow the instructions hagrid gave you hearing the footsteps beginning to catch up as you reach the door you rush and shut the door before they, whoever they are, can touch you.

PART 2

[jamiethetrans]

Women of SVU - Day 4 - Under the influence of strong medicine, alcohol or edibles

Alexandra Cabot x Reader

AN: Hey everyone!

Sorry about the long wait. Got a lot going on at the moment, and needed some time away to clear everything out.

I’m currently on waiting list to get testosterone/hormones for my transitioning and I’ve waited for almost six months now, so it’s taking quite a toll on me at the moment.

Plus I’m changing location of my job because I hate the current managers and everything is just going very slowly when you have a whole month ahead of you with those people still.

But I am back and I’m planning on writing more than ever!

Sorry about the spam of all the stories and chapters but needed everything transferred before deleting the account.

Hope you like this one!

- Jamie

•

"Would you say you're a charming man, mr. Brown?", Alex asked as she began her cross examination, looking down in her files. Both you and Olivia scoffed at the way the man's face instantly turned into a smirk. Not to mention the biggest one yet in the four hours the trial had taken so far.

"I would say I'm rather charming yes", he answered and Alex looked up from her papers meeting the man's eyes.

"So you don't have trouble finding women?"

The man shook his head. "No. It has never been an issue"

"Then why rape Bridget Harper?"

"Objection!", the defense called and the judge nodded.

"Withdrawn", Alex quickly said though before the judge could say anything and conitued. "Mr. Brown is it true that miss Harper worked at your firm for almost ten years before you fired her?"

"I didn't fire her, she decided to leave the company herself", he countered and Alex gave a weird smile towards him.

"It's funny you should say that”, she said walking back to her desk. “Because in this e-mail, people's exhibit fourteen, you're using the exact line 'You're fired'. And from her respones, it doesn't give any clue nor indication that she herself put down her resignation", she countered back and mr Broan immedietly froze looking down. He looked down at his fingers and you smirked as you sat next to Olivia.

"I-I didn't mean-"

"She also writes, and I qoute 'You're only firing me because I told you no. And then you raped me" You turned and wathced as Bridget let a tear fall down her cheek. "She's accusing you of raping her"

"I didn't-"

"She told you no. You couldn't take no for an answer so you raped her and fired her for it", Alex said and mr. Brown sighed and looked down. "Nothing further", she said and walked back to her seat.

Right in that moment, mr. Brown turned to one of his people from behind the defense table and one of them suddenly stood from his seat. You immediately noticed the gun in his hand, pointing it at Alex and you stood from your seat and held up your own gun.

“Drop the gun!”, you yelled and the man turned, redirecting his gun towards you. You quickly shot him in his shoulder and everyone screamed and got down on their knees.

Before you could react you heard another gunshot and felt a heavy amount of pain in your own shoulder, falling to the ground. “Y/n!”, Olivia yelled and the shooter was quickly shot down as well. She brought her hand to your shoulder and held the wound tightly.

“Stay with me y/n. Stay with me”

You felt yourself slowly getting tired as you saw the blood floating from your body and onto the wooden floor. You turned your head and saw a wave of blonde. “Y/n? Y/n stay with us”

The last thing you saw was blue eyes and a wave of blonde getting closer to your face.

•

When you opened your eyes again you saw a small hand in yours and immediately squeezed it as hard as you could but for the small hand it only came as a soft squeeze. “Mom! Mom she’s awake”, a voice yelled and you feel your head already banging.

“Ssshh, easy Noah”, a soft voice said and you turned your head slightly to see your Captain walking towards you from her seat on the couch. “Hey champ, how you feeling?”

You chuckled giving her a nod. “I’m good thanks. What happened?”

“I drove with you to the hospital while Fin drove Alex over here. They’re in the cafeteria getting some coffee”, she said and you sighed turning to Noah who stood next to his mother. You had always adored the boy and you would do anything for him.

“Hey kid”

“Hey auntie y/n”

You chuckled and right there the door opened and you all turned to see Fin and Alex walk in, Kat and Rollins following up. “Hey kid, how are you feeling?”, Fin asked and you chuckled. He always called you kid. No matter where it was.

“I’m fine Fin. My shoulder hurts like hell though”

They all gave you sad smiles and you rolled your eyes. “Don’t give me those pity looks. I’m fine”

They all let out small laughs and your eyes met Alex’s. Oh how you loved her eyes. Sea blue with a hint of choral green.

“Alright miss y/l/n”, a voice suddenly said and you all turned to see the doctor coming in. “You’re awake. How’s the shoulder? Any pain?”

You wanted to be strong. Show your strength to your colleagues, to Alex. You wanted to show it to Noah, showing him you were his strong aunt that could survive anything. But the pain was just too unbearable. So you nodded and moved your neck away from him.

Olivia walked over to Fin and squeezed his shoulder. “We should let her be”, she whispered and Fin nodded. She turned to Kat and Rollins and they both understood the gesture.

They all left the room after goodbyes to you and that left Alex standing alone by the end of the bed. “I will give you some pain relievers, it should hold the pain down for a while”, the doctor said and you nodded. He walked out of the room and you turned meeting Alex’ eyes.

“Hey you”, she whispered and you smiled softly, trying to hold back the tears. She walked over to you and let her hand softly squeeze yours. “God you scared the crap out of me”, she said and you chuckled.

“Sorry. But I’m fine. I’m getting painkillers and I will get better, okay?”

She nodded and gave you a weak smile, your hands tangled together.

•

When you opened your eyes you immediately noticed you were alone. You turned your head and saw the bright light shine through the curtains. You felt yourself getting light headed, not able to control your own brain. It felt like that anyway.

The door opened and you Olivia walked in, Fin right behind her. “Eeey, my cap and my serg”, you said with a lousy smile. The two shared a look and you held out your hand for Olivia to take.

“How is my beautiful Captain today, mmh?”, you asked and the woman couldn’t stop herself from chuckling.

“I’m fine y/n, how are you?”

“Oh pft! I’m fine!”, you said with a pitched voice and Fin frowned at your behavior. Olivia simply chuckled, happy to see you in a better mood than yesterday.

The door opened again and you widened your eyes at the sight your partner. “Katty. Katty! Oh my god I have missed you so much!”, you said with a wide smile and Kat frowned with a smile at the nickname, turning to Olivia who simply shook her head.

“I’ve missed you too girl”, she said and you smiled wide.

“Oh of course you do. You and I? We are the best partners in New York!”, you said and extended a turned fist towards her. She smiled at the action and extended her own turned fist towards yours, doing your handshake. Up and down, meet in the middle for a fist bump before making a finger gun, firing it off.

The door opened again and Alex walked in, a file in her hands. Your eyes widened and smiled wide. “Alex!”

The blonde turned to you and smiled. “Y/n. How are you feeling?”

“Oh I am so good! I feel like I’m on fire! And that’s not just because of the meds”, you said giving her a wink and Alex’ cheeks reddened at a blush. Kat raised her eyebrows turning to Amanda who looked just as shocked.

“You guys wanna know a secret?”, you asked chuckling, feeling yourself getting higher. “I’m secretly in love with Alex”, you half whispered, holding your hand to the side of your mouth, meeting Kat’s eyes.

Kat widened her eyes, Amanda slamming her palm to her mouth while Fin turned to the others. Olivia turned to Alex who stood frozen in place looking at you.

It had only been a week since the blonde had come to her apartment and confessed her feelings for you. They had talked about it for hours, Alex practically exploding her heart into the apartment.

“But don’t tell her!”, you said obviously to the tension filling up between the others. “She doesn’t feel the same so please don’t”

Kat found herself nodded with a smile. “Of course partner”

You smiled nodding and soon you fell asleep, the meds taking all of your energy out.

•

The day you went back to work, you had your arm in a sling, your shoulder completely covered in bandages. Kat was the first to notice you as you stepped into the squad room and she stood from her seat faster than ever before.

You groaned at the tightness of her hug, feeling your shoulder complaining at the amount of pressure. “Sorry”, she whispered and you shook your head.

“S’okay”

You made your handshake before you turned and saw Amanda standing ready. You let her hug you as well, though a little softer. “How you feeling?”

“Better. The painkillers are definitely doing their job”, you said and the two women shared a look making you frowned at them. “What?”

“Nothing”, they both said in unison and you raised a perfect eyebrow at them as Amanda walked back to her seat. You shook it off and sat down by your desk, feeling relief wash over your body as you were finally back to work. God how you’ve missed it.

You sat and worked on a few reports for the next hour and you were almost done when you heard the familiar heels sounding through the entire squad room. You turned and met Alex’s eyes and the woman gave you a linear smile.

“Detective. Good to see you back on your feet”, she said and you sat completely tranced in her beauty. And completely unaware of what had happened at the hospital.

“It’s good to be back”, you said in a haste, blinking your eyes and she smiled at you. “I’ve missed working”, you continued.

“Of course you have. You’re a workaholic. Working is what you’re best at”, she said and you froze for a moment looking at her.

“Are you o–“

“Alex. Good you could make it”, Olivia came and interrupted and you watched as the blonde followed the brunette inside.

“You okay?”, a voice sounded through your ears and you turned to Tamin who gave you a soft smile.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m good. Wha... what was that about?”

“You don’t remember?”

You frowned at her quizzed expression and you shook your head gently. You had absolutely no idea what had happened. “What?”

Tamin turned to Rollins who sighed with a nod, telling her you deserved to know. Taming turned back to you who still sat with a frown.

“You were high on meds. You…”, she trailed off.

“I what?”

“You… you confessed your feelings for Alex to me”, she said and you blushed hard.

“Uhm… okay. Well, that’s not that ba–“

“While everyone else was there too”, she continued and this time you froze.

“You… you mean…”, you were unable to finish and both Tamin and Rollins nodded their heads.

All the color suddenly drained from your face and you turned towards Liv’s office and instantly met Alex’s eyes.

Shit

•

“Another?”

You turned to the sound and noticed the bartender standing in front of you, looking down at your now empty glass of scotch.

“Yeah sure”

The bartender took the bottle and poured, you watching the liquid fall into the glass.

“You sure that’s healthy for you?”, a voice suddenly asked and you turned to see Olivia standing next to you.

“Well, it’s too late now”, you said and Olivia rolled her eyes with a smile and sat down next to you, the bartender immediately noticing.

“Captain?”

Olivia shook her head with a smile at the question before turning to you. “You should talk to Alex. She’s been absolutely out her mind since you got shot”, she said and you chuckled.

“Really? She’s not scared since I basically confessed my heart out in front of everyone?”, you said and Olivia chuckled.

“Well you’re not the only one who’s confessed their heart out”

You frowned at her and Olivia smiled. “She adores you y/n. She absolutely adores you. Go talk to her”

You sat and stared at your drink for a moment debating your thoughts before standing from your seat. “Thanks Liv”

Olivia smiled at the kiss she received on her cheek before watching you leave the bar faster than ever before. She smiled and looked down at your still full glass and turned to the bartender. “Give me her tab”

•

It was just past ten when Alex heard a knocking on her door, frowning at the sudden guest at this time. She stood from the coach, turning the tv down before walking over to the front door.

When she opened she met your eyes and froze. “Y/n?”

You stood still staring into her eyes and Alex felt herself blush under your gaze. You stood for a solid minute staring into each other’s eyes, her blue ones the most beautiful ones you ever laid your eyes on.

“You want to come in?”, Alex suddenly asked and you nodded walking in. You noticed the tv and smiled.

“Say yes to the bride”, you read and turned to the prosecutor who blushed.

“What? I like the program”, she said and you smiled.

“It’s okay, I’m not judging. I like it too”, you said, trying to make her feel better about her little guilty pleasure. You caught yourself staring into her eyes again and blushed hard clearing your throat.

“May I… May I watch it… with you?”

Alex smiled at the small voice you used to ask and nodded. “I’d love that”

You smiled wide and sat down in the couch, Alex sitting next to you. You were about five minutes in when Alex began commenting on the dresses, and you laughed every time. Either they were too ugly or too big or just didn’t suit the woman who was wearing it.

“Wow Alex, if I knew you would be so savage with this program, I would have watched it with you sooner”

“Shut up”, she said hitting your arm and you laughed making her smile as well.

“This is nice”, you said after a while and she smiled. She laid her head on your shoulder, her hand squeezing your arm and you felt yourself blush.

“You know, don’t you?”, you asked into the silence and Alex turned to you, her eyes meeting yours. Your faces were so close now and you felt your heart beat faster.

“Know what?”

You knew she was challenging you. You could see it in her eyes. She wanted you to say it.

“That I have feelings for you”, you whispered and Alex stared into your eyes for a while, her hand coming to softly stroke your cheek.

“You should know too then”, she said and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Know what?”

“That I have feelings for you too”

Before you could get a word out, she brought your face closer and brought your lips together in a chaste kiss.

[mxpseudonym]

Pairing: Tommy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Polly Shelby wants you, a shy, single, slightly anxious churchgoer, to meet her nephew, the dangerous gangster Tommy Shelby. He’s more than gentlemanly at first glance, which only adds to his attractive charm. After weeks of being on edge and going no farther than heavy petting, you finally decide to push for having Tommy devour you. However, entering the bedroom with Tommy Shelby means you’ll have to follow his saucy rules. Agreeing requires a verbal, enthusiastic, “Yes, Sir” and leaving your shame at the door.

Length: 2738 words (allegedly)

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, lite Dom/sub, Consensual as all hell

A/N: Sorry I’m late, but honestly that’s very me so. Anyway, hope you’re ready because I am y/n, you are y/n, we are all y/n this time round. 😏

"Need some help?"

You looked up from where you were kneeling on the floor to see none other than Polly Shelby. You'd pulled your rosary too tight again, and the thread snapped from the tension. Now, before you could stop her, Polly was kneeling and helping you pick them up. 

Polly was always kind to you. When needed, she shared her hymn book and complimented your church hats that matched your dresses particularly well. Even though you never had much to say, she was always casually chatting with you. 

"You're not seeing anyone, are you?" Polly asked, catching you off guard. Was this why she was so lovely? Two women in an empty church, and one of them confesses to the other. What would God say?

"I'm not."

"You should meet my nephew, Thomas. I think you'd make quite the pair." 

You smiled at the invitation. It wasn't out of flattery, per se, but more because you knew it must have been difficult for Polly to be an aunt taking on her duty as a familial matchmaker when her nephews ran the most dangerous gang in Small Health. Polly didn't seem like the type to let anything happen to you if things didn't work out on a simple date, and you felt indebted to her for being such a good friend to you. So you nodded. 

"Well, if he asked me to dinner, I'm sure I wouldn't say no." 

You didn't think much of it, quite frankly. In the year that you'd been in Small Heath, you'd turned down enough dinner invitations to be thought of as a godly woman and a prude. Not that you minded. You were single and childless in the newly bustling city of Birmingham, and living alone for the first time in your life was a luxury you didn't want to give up. You had your mother's pistol tucked in your bag and a vague idea of how to shoot it, so you were safe enough, but the added rumor that you were unapproachable was helpful.

If anything, what surprised you most was Thomas Shelby actually showing up to church that Sunday. Even leaning against the stone wall outside with a cigarette in hand was enough to cause a stir as the congregation poured out of the church. 

He was a handsome man, and his cool, certain eyes seemed to see right through you. Even with your heart thumping in your chest, gravitating towards him was only natural. He was waiting for you, after all. 

"Y/n L/n?" He asked, his voice deep and telling of his : upbringing. It fit him well, you thought as you looked at him from under your sun hat. 

"Mr. Shelby," you said with a nod. 

"My aunt seemingly won't rest until I ask you to dinner," he said, dipping a hand into his pocket to reach for more cigarettes. 

"Oh? Is this you doing it?" 

Tommy's head tilted at you as he took in your smile and looked you over. You were already a bit bold for someone who was meeting a hoodlum. A smirk crept onto his face. He wasn't complaining. 

"Ms. l/n, would you have dinner with me?" He asked. You paused, causing him to sigh and pull out his cigarettes. "My aunt promised I wouldn't get rejected by a beautiful woman if I got the courage to ask. Now I'm embarrassed."

"I'm sure you're not," you said, laughing to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "But I will go to dinner with you, Mr. Shelby. I did promise Miss Shelby." Tommy looked you over again before nodding.

"I look forward to it."

��                                             .:.

When Tuesday evening rolled around, Tommy was at your doorstep in a fine suit. If you had any doubt about your long, beaded dress being nice enough, Tommy pushed the thoughts away in an instant.

"You look stunning, Miss l/n," he praised you while holding out his arm. 

"Thank you, Tommy. You look very handsome tonight as well."

There was an air of authority about him, yet his gaze was soft when he met your eyes and smiled. The car ride was comfortable enough and did nothing to prepare you for the exquisite venue. The ceilings were high, and the decor was elegant. 

"It's my job to find a venue a quarter as lovely as the woman accompanying me, isn't it," Tommy said when you mentioned that it was possibly too fancy for you. 

"Oh please," you murmured, waving away the compliment. 

At some point throughout the night, you wondered if you'd been on a better date. Tommy took care of everything, from directing the butlers in their penguin suits to ordering things he seemed to know you'd like. ON your own, you'd have spent half an hour choosing a meal, and god only knew how long getting a server's attention. But tonight, you were left to focus on his witty storytelling that left you laughing behind your napkin. Tommy raised a hand and grasped yours. It was a small amount of contact but, perhaps the wine or the man himself made you want more of his warmth. All too soon, he gently pulled your hand down and into your lap.  

"Don't hide. I want to hear more from you," Tommy said. Your cheeks flashed hot as your mind took a naughty detour for a moment. 

"Okay, Tommy." 

It was after dinner that truly hooked you to the man. He wrapped you in his jacket before helping you into his car and driving you home. His hand rested on your knee on the way back. Yet, when he stood in front of your door, you were greeted with a hug. You didn't realize it until you leaned into his embrace that you were a bit anxious about a goodnight kiss or even Tommy pushing his way into your apartment. Gangster or not, he was a strong man with a domineering personality. He could have anything he wanted. You hadn't guessed that meant a simple hug and a request for a second date. Still, it left you smiling as you watched his car drive away from the entrance of your apartment. 

                                              .:.

"Ah, this is favorite."

"Really?"

"Winston Churchill himself recommended it."

You turned to Tommy with a skeptical eye. 

"Liar."

"How could I find the strength to lie to you, y/n?"

You rolled your eyes but turned back to the new gramophone in front of you. You had several dates with Tommy, and his gentlemanly behavior only continued. He never tried anything scandalous or forward, even as he managed to charm you to high heaven. There were times you wondered if, and perhaps even secretly hoped for, Tommy would move his hand up your thigh or kiss your neck. But it seemed that every date was an opportunity for him to learn more about you. He was more perceptive than you knew. He understood what you wanted and even made you feel like he could read your mind sometimes. 

You'd had partners before, even an adulterous ex-fiance, but with them, it felt like they were trying to learn your secrets to use against you. With Tommy, it seemed like he used that information to make you happy. Your eyes lit up when he brought you your favorite kind of pastry and a new scarf in your favorite color. 

His latest gift was the record player, and you shamelessly used the gift of music as an excuse to finally invite Tommy inside after a month of dating when it was clear he wouldn't do it himself. 

"You're quite the gentleman, Mr. Shelby," you mused as you slow danced in your living room. Tommy's hand flattened over your spine and pulled you closer. 

"I'd say you're bringing out the best in me yet, Ms. y/l/n."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against yours. You moaned softly against his lips as your swaying left the rhythm of the song to match you and Tommy. There was a hunger in his kiss that made you wonder just how much he was holding back. He could have any woman he wanted, you thought, but he was patiently kissing you to your liking and no more. His hand moved to thumb the buttons on your dress, and you pulled away gently. A guiding hand on your lower back or a calloused hand helping you out of the Bentley made your heart flutter, yet you still hesitated to take things further. 

"Wait, Tommy."

"Hm?"

"Not yet," you said shyly, not able to look him in the eyes. Tommy smirked at you. Little did you know, this confirmed several things he knew about you.

"Good girl."

Your eyes shot up to his in shock. What was this? His choice of words, his praise, the feeling of your insides warming all filled you with a sense of wonder. There was something in his eyes that looked satisfied and almost like an invitation. Would you accept? Accept what exactly? 

Not knowing the question or your answer, you kissed him again. 

                                              .:.

Good girl. 

Those two words were planted in your mind like seeds meant to sprout a specific restlessness. 

You thought about it passively for a while. At first, you wondered if you should be upset. Was Tommy treating you like a child? But nothing he did ever made it feel that way. If anything, Tommy was the one person who treated you most like a woman. After a few weeks, you began to think of it too often. On your lunches with Tommy or when he took you to the horse races, you wondered if he'd repeat it. You were eager to hear him say it. 

When you thought about it alone in the bath, you realized you couldn't hold it together much longer. Your eyes fluttered closed as you remembered that night. But memories turned to fantasy, and you could feel his breath against your ear. 

"Good girl. You're a good girl, y/n."

Your hands moved before you could think much about it. It had been a while since you'd done this, sliding a delicate finger between your legs. 

"Good girl," you whispered, your voice echoing off the walls and sending the praise back to you. You swirled your clit and repeated it again. Thinking of all the ways Tommy had touched you, even innocently, remembering the feeling and that casual smirk he wore. "Tommy, fuck, yes, I'm a good girl- ah!"

Your thighs squeezed your hand as your hips jerked with a strong release. Your eyes opened, and you stared at the ceiling.

"This is getting ridiculous."

                                              .:.

Tommy was just a little too good at listening to you, you decided. Anything you told him not to do was met with praise, and he'd never do it again. You'd expected, based on past experiences with men, that Tommy would try to push you until you were just where he wanted you. Instead, you were the one spacing out during dinner while admiring how good he looked in his suit. Would you prefer it on or off if he were devouring you? 

Tommy asked if you felt alright, which made you ashamed to even think the way you were. When did you get so lewd? It was in your apartment that Tommy let you know he knew exactly what you were thinking. You sat next to him on your couch, handing him a nightcap of brandy. 

"Y/n, you know that I care about you, don't you?"

"Yes, of course." You nodded quickly. Was this actually the end of things? You hoped not.

"I care about you more than I thought I could. And one of those reasons is because you know what you want," said Tommy as he sat his glass down. 

Your brows furrowed at the words. You thought you were indecisive and unable to speak up. If only Tommy knew how you'd been suffering. He continued after reading the confusion on your face. 

"Whenever we come back here, you know how far you want to go, and you know when to make a man like me stop."

"Oh,"

"I won't push you, love. I'm as patient as ever, so if you want more or less, that's up to you. It's whatever you'd like."

Tommy leaned over and placed a hand on your knee reassuringly, though it only helped your heart beat harder. You shifted in your seat, uneasy with the amount of power you realized you had.

"I see." 

"If we do go further, I'd like to implement a few rules. How does that sound?" 

"Rules?" You tilted your head. You liked rules and systems. Even as a coat check girl, you were known for your orderly approach to things. 

"Yes, if you decide that's something you want to explore, we'll talk then. But no need to worry about it until you're ready."

"I actually wanted to talk to you about doing more," you said bashfully, though it was a lie. You'd planned to simply move Tommy's hand under your skirt and have him put you out of your misery.

"Come here, y/n."

Tommy brought you to sit on his lap. His hand caressed your thigh, and the other was around your waist. Your arms wrapped around him as your reveled in the feeling of safety.

"Alright, Mr. Shelby, what are they?" 

"I'm going to tell you them, and you need to remember the order, alright?" He asked, and you nodded, only to have him tsk you. "Ah, love, when I ask you a question, I want to hear your voice. I want to make sure you're sure. That's rule number one: everything we do requires a verbal agreement. Try it now." 

"Oh, then, yes. I'll remember the order, Tommy." 

"Good girl," he praised, making you smile softly. "Rule number two is that you can't cum until I tell you, alright sweetheart?" 

"Tommy!" You jolted in surprise. You didn't know what you thought he was going to say, but that was not it. He chuckled at your reaction and squeezed your waist. He would have stopped if you asked, but for now, he was well aware that you were already starting to squirm in his lap. His sweetheart liked being a little flustered, didn't you? 

"Rule number three is that I am in charge of your body. I have full access to it, and you, love," Tommy reached up and tilted your chin so he could give you a saccharine kiss, "you may not touch yourself unless I say." 

The mix of salacious words and tender caresses sent waves of desire straight to the apex of your thighs. Could Tommy tell that you'd been doing just that? 

"Rule four is that you have to tell me when you don't like something. You do that so well already, and I'm proud of you for that."

"T-thank you," you murmured. You couldn't help but bite your lip. Such simple words of praise were sending you into a mild frenzy. 

"When you want me to stop, just say 'no more, I'm satisfied.' Can you do that?" He asked you, and you nodded. This time, however, you quickly remembered what Tommy told you before. 

"Yes. No more. I'm satisfied," you repeated the phrase while wondering when you'd use it.

"You can say that for anything at all. If you're uncomfortable, or even just a little too tired."

"Okay."

You nodded in agreement, though you couldn't help be feel nervous. After weeks of nothing more than a mild groping hand, Tommy was proving to be this person? But maybe it was the way that you couldn't stop yourself from squirming, trying to press your legs together for some type of friction that made you equally excited. Tommy kissed you again and held your chin. 

"Sweetheart, I promise that I'll use these to make you feel really good. I hope you can trust me, and I trust you to use that voice of yours and tell me when you don't like something, yes?"

"Yes." 

"Do you agree then? Do those rules sound good to you?" He asked you directly.

"Yes," you nodded, then softly adjusted. Something in you made you want to add, "Yes, Sir." 

Tommy squeezed your thigh, and you looked to his eyes to see a burning fierceness in them. He really enjoyed that. It was nice knowing he wasn't embarrassing you. You were in this together.

"Good girl."

[nightingaelic]

Do that last one about Drunk weddings for the Sole Survivor, too. I may have my biases, but Fallout 4 can have a little love, as a treat.

Cait: "Don't be makin' so much noise in the back if you aren't going to share, you hear?"

Prior to her journey into Vault 95, Cait is just as stumbling drunk as the sole survivor, giggling with reckless abandon and daring guests to go a round with her outside the venue. She enlists the sole survivor to help her change out of her dress to make good on these bare-knuckle boxing promises, but the two of them wind up forgetting about the whole thing and singing loudly over the music on the dance floor. Post-sobriety, Cait heckles the sole survivor after they pass the point of no return, but she abstains in favor of demolishing Piper's gifted stash of Nuka-Cola.

Curie: "Do not indulge too much, mon glaçon. Excess of drink is the cause of many health problems."

Curie, ever the picture of innocent poise, laughs politely when the sole survivor starts making outbursts at the party, then corners them in the bathroom when she's free and insists they drink several glasses of water and eat some mirelurk cake hors d'oeuvres in front of her. She enlists Danse to help her carry the sole survivor to bed when they finally wear themselves out, and she does it all without staining or ripping her dress.

Danse: [speechless, awkward blushing]

Paladin Danse turns beet red when the sole survivor climbs onto a chair to get the party's attention for a toast, and dashes to their side when they start to wobble. To him, a wedding is no reason to let down his guard and drink, but the rest of his Brotherhood brethren don't share that viewpoint: Particularly Proctor Teagan, who is just as far in as the sole survivor. Once embarrassed, Danse tries to stay on the opposite end of the room, and steers his new spouse clear as well. He will give up his avoidance tactics if asked to dance, though.

Deacon: "Everyone drink up, we're trying to erase any memory of this get-together in case the Institute captures us and demands to know what menu and color scheme we picked."

Given his career and his own personal history, Deacon insists on having a small affair with close friends over a large shindig. He's mostly joking about forgetting the party- or is he?- but either way, he's handing out bottles of Bobrov's Best like it's going out of business. Valentine keeps side-eyeing him and calling him an "enabler," but Deacon couldn't care less.

Hancock: "Cheers to you, cheers to me, cheers to us and the whole fucking Commonwealth!"

The sole survivor's drunk? Good, so is Hancock. Like Deacon, the mayor of Goodneighbor is handing out bottles of booze left and right, along with palming chems to anyone in the Third Rail who looks too mellow. Whitechapel Charlie complains loudly when the groom and the sole survivor start dancing on the bar, but Hancock does not care one whit about property damage on his special day. That is, unless someone starts getting fresh with Magnolia.

MacCready: "So when I said partnering up with you beat drinking myself blind in Goodneighbor, that wasn't me saying we should switch spots, boss."

MacCready is too overwhelmed with disbelieving happiness on his big day to care if the sole survivor is wrecking shop. He's too busy staring at his new spouse holding Duncan and laughing with joy to notice the sole survivor spilling drinks on other guests, but he will perk up if they manage to hijack the jukebox. He'll roll his eyes, switch the song back to something more to his taste, and then drag the sole survivor onto the dance floor to work off some of their excess energy.

Valentine: "Gonna water that battery acid down with anything, or do I need to tell Vadim to cut you off?"

The synth detective takes in the sole survivor's antics with a wry smile before pulling them aside to make sure they're going to behave for the rest of the night. Any further shenanigans will earn them a withering frown from across the party. Rather than leave his new partner's side, he enlists Ellie and Piper's help in strong-arming them away from the moonshine supply and out into the fresh air for a bit.

Piper: "Really, Blue, on my wedding day? I don't do many editorial cartoons, but I think this might warrant one."

Piper has roses blooming in her own cheeks from drinking, but she'll insist the sole survivor switch to Nuka-Cola, park them in a chair next to her and toss tongue twisters at them until they can recite them back to her straight. Like MacCready and Danse, she will also accept some impressive dance moves as penance for their crime of disrupting the celebration, but if she starts dancing too, she'll slip quickly into the same territory of overdoing it.

Preston: "No thanks, but you keep going. We'll see whose head feels better come sunrise."

On the opposite end of the scale from Deacon, Preston doesn't want to forget a second of this day and is therefore abstaining. His Minutemen compatriots aren't though, so the sole survivor fits right in with the crowd. Ever the model of manners, Preston will join in on their drunken rendition of Dion's "The Wanderer," but he'll just as quickly bow out to go grab his new spouse a drink, chair, snack or anything else they might need.

X6-88: "Strange. The sensation leaves me unbalanced, but... warm. Perhaps the SRB was right to restrict substances such as this."

The Courser is puzzled the first time the sole survivor hands him a drink, but he accepts it and downs the lot admirably, shaking his head at the taste. He likes the way it makes him feel for a little bit, but learns quickly that if he keeps going, he'll wind up draped over the nearest furniture like the former vault dweller. Once the sole survivor is hiccupping and incoherent, he easily hoists them over his shoulder and deposits them as far away from the liquor supply as he can, ignoring the impressed cheers of Deacon and MacCready.

BONUS!

Gage: "No, I don't care if it was brewed in a settlement, that stuff'll knock you on your ass just as well as the beer that's been sitting still for 200 years."

Porter Gage has been dry for decades, and his own wedding isn't going to be enough to ruin that streak. Seeing as he's pals with a whole bunch of raiders, he can't well keep the rest of them from indulging, but he can sure as hell protest if the sole survivor tries to push a bottle on him. Repeated inquiries will earn them a black eye, but he'll let them steal his eyepatch for the rest of the night as condolence.

Longfellow: "Here's to full glasses an' fulsome lasses, ain't that right, honey? Bottoms up!"

There's not much to do on the island when you live alone, other than get really good at your hobbies and drink. Old Longfellow lives accordingly, and he can out-swig anyone attending his little party, including the sole survivor. By the end of the night, those who dared to pick up a glass around the man are under the table, while Longfellow is still singing sweet, fully-coherent lullabies to his new gal beneath the glow of the bottle lanterns. Knowing him, she's probably just as seasoned at drinking as he is.

Maxson: "Dull senses make for poor soldiers, but I suppose we can set our weapons aside for one evening."

Any Brotherhood of Steel Elder's marriage is a huge deal, and subsequently warrants a huge celebration. Alcohol flows freely at such parties, and any drunken behavior on the sole survivor's behalf is probably drowned out by hundreds of other Knights, Scribes and Lancers acting foolish too. Like Longfellow, Maxson holds his own in contest with everyone else, but doesn't push those around him to keep up. Anyone counting his drinks can't help but wonder where he's putting it. If the sole survivor's not too far gone, they can spot him dumping his glasses after a sip or two to keep up the mythic image, but he'll swear them to secrecy.

Desdemona: "Being able to take a moment to breathe can be just as vitally important for an organization as resupply missions or exterminations. Stop touching my hair."

The Railroad leader appreciates being able to cut loose, but she's still too paranoid to trust any glass handed to her and favors the flask inside her ballistic weave-armored dress that she fills herself. Once relaxed, this is the only time she'll allow the sole survivor and friends to get rowdy and fawn over her in the least. Liquored-up compliments on her outfit, her leadership abilities and her organization are fair game, but any probing into her personal background will result in her simply standing up and walking away.

[eyoricka]

Pete’s assistant - Pete Davidson

Words: 2160

Warning: 2 curse words

Requested: yes

You had been Pete’s assistant for many years now. You had begun as an intern at NBC and that’s how you met Pete. The two of you immediately clicked, there was like a strange bond between you like you always knew each other or were meant to meet, to work together. So at the end of your internship, Pete asked you if you wanted to be his assistant, to help him with pretty much everything. He wasn’t famous enough to really have a publicist, so you also fill up this role. It was funny at first. Pete was nice to you, never asking for anything impossible to get. Contrary to many other celebs with their assistant, he treated you like his equal. Planning interviews was something you enjoyed, he was mostly in some presented by his friends, so it was pretty chill, and you learnt so much. You let Pete took charge of his social media presence, he was more than okay at it, was natural and able to create a connection with his fans.

However, at some point everything changed. Pete got way bigger, he was famous like really famous, not just known by SNL and stand-ups afficionados.  Things got out of hand quickly. You still liked to work for Pete, he was still adorable to you but handling negative comments, the infamous song about him, people reactions and the repercussions on his mental health was a nightmare. You had too much to think about: to make sure he was feeling okay or at least not too bad, to make sure he would sleep, eat, not take too much drugs, go to work, go outside, try to stop the continuous harassment… Pete hired a publicist to take some weight out of your shoulders and have someone who would focus only on his impacted public image. Even though, Pete was probably at rock bottom, it was nice to see that he would still be kind to you, trying to smile a bit when you were ding your best to cheer him up.

And this is how the problems began for you. You knew the rule number one of any assistant: never fall for your boss. But you couldn’t help it. You had always loved his personality however you never considered having feelings for him. However, seeing him hurt, fragile but still caring about his close circle, still trying his best everyday for people he loved, still being nice when he could easily be an ass and take the heartbreak as an excuse, was enough to make you acknowledged that maybe you wanted to be more than a friend to him.

You decided to keep your emotions for yourself. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself or lose your job and friend for feelings that would never be reciprocated. To forget about them, you went on dates with several people, it was a failure. Every time you could stop yourself from comparing your date with Pete. Even if some people were funny enough, smart enough, kind enough, they were simply not enough. A date with them was pleasant but you couldn’t picture more, and it would be cruel to force a relationship with someone you didn’t have feelings for just to hide your current crush. So after some dates you gave up on the idea of finding someone for the moment and preferred to take time for yourself. As the year went on, you were the witness of Pete’s different and non-working relationships. You were happy for him, truly. He was able to move on which was great and he felt more like himself. But it still hurt to see him get far too involved in relations that were doomed to fail. He was too intense and passionate for his own good. You advised him to follow your example and take time for himself, to love himself and understand what he wanted, needed from a partner. Surprisingly, he did it and it did good on him.

A few months later, you were at a small gathering to celebrate Pete’s Netflix comedy special. The reviews were good, and the audience was following, it was great to watch Pete’s career on track to success, he would finally be recognized for his art. You were talking to Dave about the process of writing when you are down and how cathartic humor is. You glanced distractedly several times in Pete’s direction confident that you were discreet. As your drink was empty, you scanned the room to find the nearest bottle of a beverage you like. Your eyes met Colson’s ones and he grinned mischievously at you. You rose an eyebrow wondering why he looked like a devious elf and quickly manage to appease your thoughts, rationalizing that it was only Colson being his drunk and high self.  

As you made your way to the counter full of bottles to pour you a glass, you felt two hands clapped your shoulders. You turned promptly and faced Colson who was smirking even wider.

“What do you want?” You asked not surprised by his presence but cautious about what he was about to say.

“Well just to chat with a lovely assistant, it has been a while since we haven’t talk.” He replied sweetly, an innocent smile replacing his smirk and you understood fully well why so many girls were crazy about him.

“Cut the crap” You deadpanned, not in the mood for his banter.

“I still wonder why I try to sugarcoat things with you” he mumbled certainly more for himself. After some long seconds of silence, he let out in a charming voice: “Don’t you think that would be the perfect night?”

You weren’t sure of what he was implying. He liked flirting but you seriously doubt that he was since he would never cross that border, maybe he was just bored or wanted to tease you. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer that would fuel his joust.

“You don’t ask me the perfect night for what?” He added kind of amused by your lack of reaction. “Well I will tell you anyway because else it wouldn’t be funny. So my dear don’t you think it would be the perfect night to admit your badly hidden feelings for you know who.”

You gulped at those words. You attempt to come back with a witty, chill repartee that would show that you were diverted by this non-sense and not knowing about what he was talking about, but your mind was blank. You were sure that tonight before sleeping while your mind would replay this scene, you would think of many clever replies.

“Still no answer, I bet that this time it is not for the same reason, right” Colson joked, and you cursed yourself.

“I just don’t understand what you mean” you eventually managed to say, cringing at this lame attempt to act cool.

“Your blushing cheeks and stiff body are telling the opposite” Nice even your own body was now betraying you.

“I get that you are bored Colson and even if it would probably be the funniest thing of your night, I don’t plan on becoming the biggest idiot of the party for your entertainment. I know Pete doesn’t like me and it is okay, you can’t control someone’s feelings and…”

“I hope you realize that you already are the biggest idiot of the night” He cut you “and Pete is too. I can’t get my head around the fact that you are both blind, incapable of seeing the way the other looks at you. Shshshsh don’t reply, don’t want to waste my time on hearing you tell me that I am lying, imagining stuffs, and complaining about my behavior, I‘ve already had this long speech from Pete. You can do whatever you want, go tell him or don’t but just know that you don’t risk much. And don’t count on him to come, he is sure he has no chance. So please have the balls for the both you.” He was about to leave you there with many contradictory thoughts filling your head when he leaned to whisper: “But really please do tell him tonight, I bet some bucks with John that you would be the brave one, don’t prove me wrong.”

You nudged him and he burst out of laughter as you showered him with imaginative curses. You decided to sit few minutes just to take time to reflect. You needed to process what you just heard. If indeed had feelings for you, things would change drastically. You felt yourself slowly but surely drifting into panic. A part of your brain was screaming that it was lies maybe because it was easier to accept than the truth. You had dreamt of this but it was a dream and you weren’t sure that you were ready for that right now. Intrusive thoughts were running in your head defeating your ounce of rationality and calm. One of your hand was clenched on your drink firmly and you closed your eyes while inhaling and exhaling to relax yourself. From the outside you certainly looked crazy but you didn’t care, it didn’t even crossed your mind.

You were so focused on your breath that you didn’t notice someone siting next to you and neither feel this person hand on yours. When you opened your eyes, you detect that you were no longer alone and the person with you was none other than Pete. He softly smiled at you and you felt like dying inside, this smile was enough to make you forget any doubts, anything, to appease. You smiled back at him kindly. He seemed to be struggling to say something and you took the lead.

“I guess that Colson talks to you too, huh?” You questioned, your voice was a bit shaking and you had eaten half of your words however you knew that he had understood you.

“Kind of” he stated and your next words died in your throat, you were losing your confidence. Those tow simple words held a clear message: yes we talk but no I don’t like you. “Actually, John did most of the talking” he joked or at least try to. He was also way to stress to really be funny.

You wanted to say something, to admit what was consuming you inside nevertheless you were scared, you refuse to be too blunt on this. You had to be subtle, to find a way to make him realize but without saying it, so if the feelings were not reciprocal it would not be too awkward.

“Colson mentioned a bet on us” You hid your reddening face behind your drink and casually take a sip or at least as casually as you can considering your current position.

“I heard about it too” His fingers were drumming against his tights in nervousness. “I am kind of bother by it you see.” You nodded, you felt crushed inside, of course he would be bothered, who would not be bothered to be shipped with someone they don’t have feelings for. You did everything you could to remain still and not crack, not now, not in front of him, of his friends. “I don’t really any of them to get this money like I guess I want them to be right, but I don’t like them betting on us”. You blinked several times not sure if you were on the same page. “I am not very clear, I am? Well obviously, I am not, I have never been very clear in those situations. Maybe clearer than now, because now what I am saying is a mess, well normally it is confused but understandable. And I am rambling right now and I don’t even know why. Maybe because it is intimidating, like we know each other for so long and what I am saying is that it is different.”  

He had lost you with his confused sentences, was he trying to reject you or the contrary. You wanted a certain answer, not an interpretation based on a wrong reading of the situation, actually you did not want this answer, you needed it. He was still digressing when you took the courage to interrupt him: “Pete please listen to me okay.” He shut up and looked at you in the eyes, sort of hanging of the words you would pronounce. “I like you Pete and not like I like Ricky or John, I mean not like a friend. Do you understand?”

There were few awfully long seconds of silence before you felt Pete’s forehead against yours and his hands on yours. “Fuck, you are a lot better at verbalizing this than I am” He smiled brightly, he was so beautiful when he was happy. “Can I kiss you?” He asked still quite unsure and you gently pressed your lips against his. It was a short and sweet kiss, the kind that promise wonderful tomorrows full of love, full of life.

[heyheyloki]

Better Than Him

Bakugo Katsuki x M!Reader

Requested? Yes.

Word Count: 2914

When you first started UA, you didn’t have many friends. None of your friends from middle school had gotten accepted into the school, and none of them stuck around either. You didn’t have much of an need to go out of your way to make them, but you didn’t made making some if people approached you. That’s how this all began, because Mina Ashido decided that the handsome pretty boy of the class should be her friend. 

Mina was always took her time to go out of her way with you. Partnering up for classwork? She went with you. Needed a partner for hero work? Right by your side. 

She was a great friend, and she grew on you. It was just the two of you for a bit in the beginning of the year, that was until the Sports Festival happened. Both of you ended up bonding with Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari, and the infamous Bakugo Katsuki. 

Unlike your classmates, you didn’t have a problem with Bakugo’s constant rage and raised voice. You knew he wasn’t a bad guy, just someone who needed to prove himself. You didn’t believe it clicked within your classmates, but you didn’t feel like defending someone who didn’t need it. Besides, if you did, you thought you’d only offend him in the end. 

Overtime, you all became close friends. Your relationship with Mina grew and stabilized into best friends while your relationships with the others continues to grow.

“Yo, [Name].” You heard Kirishima call out, his desk behind yours. Still, he felt the need to stand next to your deck.

“Yeah?” You questioned.

“You got plans for the weekend? All of us are gonna go hang at Bakugo’s place.” Kirishima explained. For the first time in a while, you were surprised. It wasn’t like Bakugo to let people into his house, especially not his friends that he tries to deny he has.

“Really? And Bakugo is all cool with it?” You questioned, leaning your head forward to get a look at the blond at his desk.

“Don’t look at me! All these idiots invited themselves!” Bakugo yelled, his eyes locked onto yours.

For some reason, you believed him.

“C’mon!” You heard Mina’s voice. When you turned your head to the other side of your desk, she was there. Her palms planted on your desktop. “It’s not like you got anything better to do, right?”

“Woah, you think highly of yourself that you think you’re my only friend.” You teased, watching as she began to pout like a child.

“C’mon, man! Don’t be scared of Bakugo, it won’t be the same without you!” Kaminari suddenly butted in, his arm wrapping around your shoulders.

“What the hell makes you think I’m scared of him?” You growled. Seriously, out of all of them, you were the least scared of the guy.

“Cause you don’t come! Unless, you got something else to do?” Kaminari questioned, a coy grin coming to his features. “Maybe, a date?”

“Oh, my god! Really? Since when?” Mina shouted, her excitement growing.

You sighed, seriously, sometimes you think these guys have nothing else to do but bother you. You weren’t complaining necessarily, but you know that for some reason beyond you, that you complete their group. Maybe it was cause you could run your mouth to Bakugo without flinching, or perhaps you were just you and they loved that about you.

“It’s not a date.” You hummed out. Your hand coming up to remove Kaminari’s arm from your body. “I just already made plans with Midoriya. Sorry.”

You didn’t think they’d make a big deal out of it, especially since most were on good terms with the green haired fool that always seems to break his bones any chance he gets. Then again, you forgot that one person isn’t his biggest fan.

“Uh? Deku? Why the hell are you wasting your time with that nerd?” Bakugo suddenly called out, all eyes now on the group. Especially Bakugo and you.

When you looked at him, it was like a war was on the brink of starting. It wand uncommon for the both of you to argue here and there, so no one was worried necessarily, but something in your gaze made his blood run cold. He really didn’t take a liking to the way you looked at him, but instead of taking into account why, he just blamed it on your quirk.

The quirk you had was tricky in more ways than one. It distorted your personality at times, and the abilities that came along with one single quirk had some people jealous, envious of you. Maybe that’s what Bakugo liked about you, he knew that people were jealous of his stupidly-awesome quirk just like they were of yours. You had a commonality, and that made him see you as an equal. Though, as he got to know you, that quickly turned into respect.

“What? Jealous I’m hanging with him instead of you?” You asked in a snarky tone that made Bakugo almost pop a vein.

“Why the hell would I be jealous of that loser?” He yelled, his hand slamming down hard on his desk. Some of his classmates flinched at the noise, but you remained perfectly still. Continuing to give him that annoying look that he wanted to just wipe off your face.

“Don’t know,” you hummed. Your eyes still not removing themselves from Bakugo’s orbs. It was odd to you how this guy chooses to act this way in school but when he’s just hanging out with you, he’s the chillest guy you’d ever met. Though, that was only if it was just you and him. “But, I’ll be free another day. So don’t go missing me too much.”

“Like I’d ever miss you, idiot!” He screamed out once more in retaliation.

You just smiled to yourself before class shortly after started. You wish you could go, but you’re a man of your word and promised Midoriya you’d help him out. Besides, if you weren’t loyal, what else did you have left? Your quirk made it quite difficult to be anything else.

When that weekend passed, Bakugo tried to ask you to hang out with him. There was a carnival in town and he didn’t want to go with the others unless you were there. Sadly, you had to decline again.

“Sorry, Bakugo, I already made plans with Midoriya.” You told him with an apologetic smile. “Maybe next week.”

He did try again next week. It wasn’t like he wanted to, in fact, he felt pathetic doing this for weeks on end and you always rejecting him. It was just easier to deal with the chaotic antics of the others with you around. It wasn’t like he enjoyed you being around, no, not at all.

It didn’t help when everyone else started to talk about you while they all hanged out.

“Man!” Kaminari whined. “When is [Name] gonna come back and hang with us?”

“Not sure, but he’s been hanging around Midoriya a lot more lately.” Mina expressed, her eyes wondering up at the clear sky as they all walked around the park.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, those two have been getting really close, right?” Kirishima questioned. “I mean, he never really talked to him until recently. Makes ya wonder what they’re doing.”

It would be a lie to say that didn’t irk Bakugo. Did you think Deke was better than him? That couldn’t possibly be it, right? After all, he was better. He was your friend first before Deku, so why did you prefer that guy over him?

“I don’t know about [Name] but did you hear about Midoriya?” Sero suddenly asked.

Bakugo made up this mask that he wasn’t interested in this conversation whatever, but when he heard that, his ears perked up. He was never one for gossip, hell, he hated it. But for some reason when it came to you, it felt like he needed to know. Especially if Deku had a part in it.

“No, what happened?” Kaminari questioned, the others on edge.

“I overheard Uraraka talk with Iida about how Midoriya was suddenly acting weird whenever [Name] was around.” Sero started out saying. All of them at the edge of their seats, begging him to just spit it out already. “When Uraraka confronted him, Midoriya said that he was starting to like him! Can you believe that?”

“Seriously?” Mina suddenly shouted with a wide smile and somewhat flushed cheeks.

While everyone stood with shocked expressions across their features, they all asked the same questions. Did you like him as well? Is that why you wouldn’t hang with them?

Though, for Bakugo, it was a little difficult. Unlike everyone else he felt something he hasn’t in a while. He knew he had a short fuse and could be angered easily, but when he heard that it was like something twisted in his chest. It was painful, and made questions run about his mind.

The thing was, Bakugo wasn’t dumb. He cursed himself out in his mind. It wasn’t ‘hero’ behavior, he felt like a loser. He hated that. It was such a petty emotion that ran through his veins. Pure, petty jealousy.

It wasn’t until a few days later that Bakugo saw you. It was in the morning, just before class started up. Everyone was chatting with friends before they had to deal with a grumpy Aizawa in the morning.

When Bakugo walked in, his sight immediately locked onto you. You were in his seat, your body turned to face Midoriya who sat behind the spiky haired blond. You had your elbow on Midoriya’s desk, your head rested in the palm of your hand with a bright smile on your features. It was like when you smiled, in Bakugo’s eyes, you glowed. It was odd to him the first couple of times, but he started to enjoy it. It was like his own secret that no one had the privilege of seeing besides him.

“So, [Name], um,” Midoriya started to mumbled, his fingers now fidging each other. His gaze towards his desk, dancing around as he spoke but not meeting yours for a second.

“What’s up?” You questioned, wondering what he was so worried for.

“I was, uh, wonder if maybe I could draw you?” He asked in a shy tone. Though, once his eyes met yours he immediately shot his hands up and shook them before blurting out, “I mean, only if you want to!”

You stared at him for a moment. It was odd to you how this was the most difficult thing for him to ask when he’s asked you so much things over the past couple of weeks. “Sure, I don’t mind. But, make sure you get my good side.”

Midoriya chuckled. “I’ll try.”

You nodded with a smile, trying out some poses before your eyes got drawn towards the window. Rain was falling and it never ceased to capture your attention in an instant. Though, today your little show would be interrupted.

As you watched some teachers and students scramble into the school from below, your attention was quickly drawn to whoever nudged you in the back of the head. You knew there wasn’t any malice behind it, but instead just to grab your attention.

When you turned your head your eyes went up to Bakugo’s face. It was calm, and something about it was peaceful to you. His red hues were shining with something you didn’t recognize, but, for some reason, you were just happy to have it directed onto you.

“Good morning, Bakugo.” You said with a soft smile. “How was your weekend?”

“It was whatever.” Bakugo hummed. His eyes never moving anywhere else besides you. “Spiky thought it would be a fun idea to do a picnic.”

“Oh, that sounds fun. Wish I could’ve been there,” you hummed in a sweet tone. Although, before Bakugo had time to respond to your words, you let an soft hum leave your throat before saying, “By the way, I’ll be free today if you wanna hang out and catch up.”

For the first time, Bakugo’s gaze shifted to Midoriya. His calm eyes grew irritated, narrowing on the green haired teen.

You heard Midoriya yelp suddenly, but you didn’t find that any different from any other day before. When Bakugo turned back to you though he said, “Whatever, idiot. Just don’t make a mess while you’re over my house.”

You smiled, your legs bending straight as you stood from his desk. You were a few inches from him when you did, neither of you looking to back up. It was then that your innocent smile turned into a sly grin before brushing your shoulder with Bakugo as you moved back to your seat, completely missing the soft red that popped up on the tips of his ears.

After school Bakugo and you headed out without a word to your other classmates or friends. You made conversation here and there about whatever you could think about, just basically throwing your thoughts at him. It wasn’t until you both came out of the heated building and feel a chill run up your spine. It was days like these were you wish you had some fire or some kind of heat quirk like Bakugo and Todoroki have. 

“Shit, it’s freezing.” You grumbled as you hugged yourself from warmth, your teeth beginning to chatter. While it was cold, you did enjoy Bakugo’s heat that helped you at least tolerate this bullshit. Though, when he suddenly stopped as you continued to walk, it didn’t take long for you to notice.

When you turned you noticed him digging around in his bag. You leaned your head to the side, confused on what he was doing. You took a step forward, your lips parting as you were about to let words slip past them. Before you had the chance though, you felt something warm wrap around you. 

“Don’t freeze to death, idiot.” Bakugo said before continuing to walk.

Your eyes quickly shot down to see a scarf loosely wrapped around your neck. The gesture itself shouldn’t be anything to gush over, it was a kind thing that anyone would do. Though, for some reason, when Bakugo did it it felt like your entire body was now suddenly warm. 

When both of you arrived at Bakugo’s place since it was closer to the school than yours, you noticed his parents weren’t home. It didn’t bother you since this wasn’t the first time you’ve been over without them around. But you did find it odd that Bakugo just dropped his thinks and started to travel to his room. Normally you both would grab some drinks and snacks to chill with while you hanged out, but that didn’t happen. You decided not to question him and just followed behind him silently.

You believed nothing was wrong, but when you saw him sitting at the edge of his bed with his head down, you knew you were wrong. 

You sighed, leaning against the door frame you asked, “Alright, what’s wrong with you?”

Bakugo’s eyes locked on you. It would have scared you, but it wasn’t the first time he looked at you like that. 

“Do you like Deku more than me or something?” He suddenly questioned, his voice prickled with thorns. One wrong move, and you knew you wouldn’t recover. 

You leaned your head. “Bakugo, really?”

“Do I look like I’m joking to you, idiot?”

No, he didn’t, but you wish he was. It wasn’t like you were keeping a secret from him, but it was a pain in the ass to explain. 

You sighed, your hands dug in your pockets before walking up next to Bakugo. You took a second before sitting down next to him, making sure he wouldn’t deny you. The moment you sat down you said, “Midoriya is cool and all, but just because I’ve been hanging out with him doesn’t mean that I think he’s cooler than you or something.”

Bakugo raised his head an inch. Side-eyeing you he growled, “Then why the hell are you blowing me off, huh? If you wanna hang out with that nerd so bad than just do it!”

You didn’t make any moves, nor did you try and make any snarky comments. It was hard to hold in instinct, but for him you could do it. 

“I wasn’t trying to blow you off, okay?” You hummed out in the kindest voice you could muster up. “Midoriya asked me if it would be okay to get some information about my quirk for this hero journal he’s been keeping. I said yes, and it just happened to take longer than I thought.”

The blond next to you went quiet, you knew he probably felt silly or like a ‘loser’ but you didn’t think that about him at all. Not in the slightest. 

With a single motion, your shoulder moved over to Bakugos’. You didn’t move, nor try to. Instead, you took in a pleasant breath of air as you relaxed into him. It’s been weeks since you could last do this, and you missed it. He would never allow you to in public or with your other friends, which, you understood and respected. So, it was really--really--nice now that you could.

“Yanno, you didn’t have to get jealous, Suki.” You cooed out. 

You thought he would flip out on you. He really did hate when you called him that in private, but today, he didn’t. When you felt him move, it wasn’t like you remembered before he flips out. So, you moved your head an inch to see what he had done. A large smile growing on your lips when you noticed his head turned away from you, unable to see his face. But, you did hear him when he said, “Shut up, idiot.”

[lakesandquarries]

Tangled Up - Chapter Two

oh, i’m gonna mess this up

Benrey’s spent 26 years living in a tower - 27, tomorrow. When a thief breaks into his tower, he finds his chance to escape and takes it.

Alternatively: Tangled, but the AI is self aware.

(featuring art by @kenas-artstuff​ )

Notes: check ao3 for warnings and tags! “kane radio” is just gordon using a fake name. fic title from “tangled up” by caro emerald, chapter title from “shots” by imagine dragons.

AO3 Link

It’s nice to be back at Black Mesa. Well, mostly nice. Gordon shuts the door behind Benrey only to immediately spot a wanted poster, the only thing making it unrecognizable a bizarre mullet. Do people seriously think he looks like that??

“Hey, Mr. Radio!” a voice calls from behind the counter. Kane rips the paper off the door, rushing across the room. 

“Hi Darnold it’s great to see you shut the fuck up please -”

And that’s when he gets grabbed from behind. He barely sees Darnold’s eyes widen before he’s spun around, now facing an absolute mountain of a man. Behind him, he hears Darnold slap something - his forehead, probably - and mutter a quiet. “oh, right.”

He loves Darnold, he really does. Being friends with someone since you were kids will do that. Right now, though, he kind of wants to throttle him.

“Kane Radio, hm?” the main holding him says, ripping the wanted poster out of his hands. The thief glances around awkwardly, his eyes finally falling onto Benrey struggling to pull his hair back into his possession. 

"H-hey, he'd appreciate his hair not being touched, guys!", Kane exclaimed, to help his partner as well as pull away from his attention. It works for a moment, as Benrey tugs the last strands of hair away and marches up to the guy holding Kane, unintimidated despite the height difference.

“Hey,” Benrey says quietly as he walks up next to the man. “Put him down? Please and thank you?”

Mountain man snorts. “Not likely. I need the reward money. Hey, you! Go get the guards!”

One of the other men nods, slipping out of the tavern as an argument breaks out. Kane is pushed and pulled, various thugs grabbing him and insisting they need the money, they deserve it most, as the bar descends into chaos.

A loud, meaty thwack! breaks up the argument. Kane’s dropped on his ass, and when he looks up, Benrey has his crowbar against Mountain man’s arm. “I said put him down.”

Kane rolls off to the side, dodging another man’s grabbing hands, and stands up so he can dart back over to Benrey and push him out of the way. “Hey, appreciate that, don’t get me wrong, but - Benrey, what the fuck?”

Behind the counter Darnold is glaring, grabbing a cup and a spoon to try and get everyone’s attention. Black Mesa housed a fighting ring once upon a time, but that got stopped when Darnold took over. It doesn’t matter now - even with Darnold yelling, everyone’s too riled up. Kane has to duck down to avoid a punch, only to immediately get kicked in the face. A hand grabs his arm and he swings instinctively, stopping at the last second when he realizes it’s just Benrey, pulling him off to the side.

“What the fuck,” Kane repeats.

“Being polite didn’t work,” is Benrey’s only explanation.

Darnold is still yelling, trying desperately to get some sense of calm as the crowd beats the shit out of each other. And then - just as quick as it started, it’s over. Screams dissolve into laughter as the assembled patrons dust themselves off, seemingly satisfied with the amount of violence they've had. 

"It's been too long since we've had a fight like that," Mountain man says. "Nice job."

Benrey blinks up at him. "Whuh?"

Gordon agrees with him. Wiping blood from his nose, he mutters a quiet “What?” as well.

“Should’ve been longer,” Darnold complains. “You know I hate this kind of behavior! I have half a mind to throw you all out.”

"We'll clean it up, Danny, don't worry,” another, very skinny guy cheerfully responds, followed by a roar of laughter.

“Darnold,” the bartender corrects sharply as he sets to cleaning the place up, picking up overturned chairs and mopping up spills and sweeping up broken glass. 

Turning back to Mountain man, Kane asks, "Just to be clear. Does this mean you won't tear me and my friend apart anymore?"

“Are you kidding? That’s the most fun I’ve had in years! Darnold never lets us do stuff like that. Real shame, considering how this place st -“

He’s cut off by someone slamming the door open. “I brought the guards!”

Apparently ten seconds of peace is the max he’s allowed. “Shit shit shit,” Kane wheezes, grabbing Benrey’s arm as Darnold directs them behind the door. The massive dog from earlier, the one who had chased him through the forest and up Benrey’s tower, is here. And it’s pissed. Kane’s heart drops as he watches it sniff around, following the trail of his footsteps.

Darnold pulls on a lever, revealing a ramp down into a stone tunnel. “You’re lucky you’re my friend,” he says as he ushers them through it. Benrey hesitates, but Kane pulls him through anyway, into some kind of cave system. The walls are dark stone, rough and natural. This is something old, and hopefully, it’ll cover them. 

He exhales slowly, adrenaline still rushing through him. “Shit,” he mutters again. “That was close.”

“Who were those guys?” Benrey asks. The raccoon on his shoulder chirps.

“Guards. Royal guards. They, uh….they don’t like me much.”

“You stole something?” 

“Big something.”

Benrey nods, apparently satisfied with the answer. The raccoon chirps again, and Benrey mumbles something in response to it. Because his day is just going so normally, he needs to listen to his weird...escort mission talk to his fucking raccoon as they run from guards.

Metal clanks behind them, and Kane picks up the pace, until he’s running down the tunnel. It opens into a cliffside, with no way down. “Fuck!”

“There’s a guy down there,” Benrey points out, and Kane bites back another string of curses when he realizes it’s fucking Forzen. He’d abandoned him after stealing the royal helmet. Betrayal’s nothing new between them, but this is recent enough that Forzen’s probably still pissed.

“That’s Forzen. He doesn’t like me much either.”

It’s then that the guards burst out of the tunnel and several things happen all at once. Benrey shoves his crowbar at Kane, and before he can question why Benrey is giving him his only weapon, he’s tossing his hair across the canyon like a grappling hook and running off the ledge.

Before he can even ask why Benrey would possibly give him his only weapon, he watches in horror as his partner takes flight. He doesn’t have time to check if Benrey’s alright - the guards are on his ass. The crowbar makes a satisfying thwack! as he swings it, taking down the guards in barely an instant. “Fuck, this is handy. Need to get me one of these!” Kane comments to himself, looking to see who’s left. One opponent remains - the dog, who is now holding a sword.

Because his day just cannot get any fucking weirder.

“You should know this is the weirdest thing I have ever fucking done!” Kane yells to Benrey, as he battles the dog, sword to crowbar, until the dog knocks it right out of his hands and down the cliff. “Two out of three?”

A lock of black hair wraps around his hand. Kane grins, giving the dog a salute as he’s pulled into a free fall. “Ha! Get fuc - hhhh.” His words dissolve into a wheeze, as his trajectory slams him into an exposed beam, knocking the wind out of him.

Kane, struggling to get a grip of himself, only just manages to hold on to Benrey while he swings down with his support. His feet connect with the water pipes, sliding down unsteadily as they collapse underneath him, and then the entire dam breaks. It happens in a flash, an enormous amount of water - it feels like the whole ocean when Kane glances back - pouring down into the valley. Rocks fall, the last of the wooden constructions collapsing. With a couple of leaps, Kane reaches an already running Benrey, and scoops up the last bit of his hair flailing behind him. "Benrey! Benrey, into the cave!" he shouts, hoping the other would get understand the general direction they have to run.

---

Benrey grabs the crowbar as he darts after Kane, barely avoiding getting crushed by the massive rock that comes crashing down and seals them into the cave. The walls are stone, not like the bricks of his tower but a random arrangement of rocks and boulders forming a lumpy wall. There’s a puddle of water on the floor, only as he looks it starts to grow, up over Benrey’s feet, his legs, creeping higher and higher. He looks around the cave frantically, spotting the trickles of water coming in past the rock that sealed them in. The only obvious opening, but the water is like another force behind it, pressing it shut like Benrey used to try and hold his door shut. The rock is stronger than him. No matter how hard he slams with his crowbar, there’s not even a dent. He turns his attention to the rest of the cave, alternately smashing and prying at the walls, but they hold firm. There’s nothing. Not a single loose rock, nothing resembling a weak point, not even a crack he can widen into an exit. 

The water’s at his waist now. His breathing sharpens, small panicked inhales as he realizes there’s no way out. They’re trapped, with water climbing higher and higher. The water is murky, making the already dim space feel smaller and darker with each second. 

Zeki was right. Kane’s gonna die here with him in this stupid fucking cave, all because Benrey wanted to see some lights.

“This is all my fault,” he mumbles, tugging on a strand of hair. “I never should’ve - she was right, this whole time, I just -“ 

Kane’s hands grip his shoulders, firm but gentle, forcing him to look at the thief’s face. "Benrey, don't blame yourself. Sometimes things go bad...that's how life works. It's - it's gonna be ok." In a different context it might be comforting. Right now, they’re about to die, and Kane’s voice is shaking.

Benrey’s voice is choked when he responds. “I’m sorry, Kane.”

"Gordon.” Benrey tilts his head, and Kane drops his hands from his shoulders with a sigh. “It's - my real name is Gordon Freeman. I made up Kane. You might as well know it now."

“Feetman?” Benrey asks with a shaky smile.

“If we weren’t trapped in a cave I’d hit you with your crowbar,” Kane - Gordon? - Gordon says. For the briefest of seconds, he smiles at Benrey. 

“I, uh. I have magic hair that glows when I sing,” he says. Keeping a secret doesn’t matter when they’re both about to die. Gordon furrows his brows, looking questioningly at Benrey, and a sudden burst of inspiration hits as he repeats himself. “I have - oh shit!” He starts singing, voice shakier than normal as he races through the song. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine -“ The water is still rising, and maybe it’s his imagination but it feels even faster. “Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine -”

The last line gets cut off as the water fills the cave completely. He’s never tried singing underwater before, and for a moment he’s terrified it won’t work - and then his hair lights up, a bright neon teal, illuminating the cave. Gordon swims down to the bottom, pushing aside rocks desperately. He finds one that’s loose enough, dislodging it, and the rest follow suit. The wall starts to crumble before collapsing completely, launching the two of them into a river, the current quickly sweeping them downstream and onto a grassy bank. 

Benrey drags himself out, flopping limply onto the grass, taking deep breaths as he stares up at the sky. “We’re alive,” he breathes, looking over at Gordon. He likes that name better, now that he has a spare moment to think about it. Laughter bubbles up out of him, along with bright yellow-green. Olive means I’m glad to be alive.

Beside him, Gordon is less chill, elbows on the grass and hands in his hair. “His hair glows,” he’s mumbling. “He - hhh - his hair? Glowing - glowy shit - people don’t glow!” From there his words just get more and more incoherent as he stares at the ground.

With a huff, Benrey stands up, starting to squeeze the water out of his hair. Jefferem shakes himself dry, splashing water onto Gordon. “You good?” Benrey asks.

“Am I - are you good?? What the fuck was that? How long have you been - ow, fuck -” He pulls his right hand close to himself, and when he holds it out again Benrey sees blood, bright red against the brown skin. He must’ve cut himself on a rock or something. 

Benrey offers a hand to help Gordon get up, so he doesn’t put pressure on the injured one. “Lets, uh. Find somewhere to dry off first and then we can play 20 questions?” Or, maybe, if he stalls long enough, Gordon will forget whatever he wants to ask and Benrey can keep pretending like he’s a person.

[whump-town]

Just As Clueless As You

Warnings: cigarettes, underage drinking, past child abuse (for you already know who), and the angst and pain that will come with time

Summary: Emily Prentiss stumbles upon a boy outside of the library one morning and does him a harmless favor. A few months later a poor seating choice makes him her class partner. The rest... she has no idea.

Word Count: 3,057

It's Not Hotchniss-- you'll just have to take my word on that for now

Freshman Year August 1989-April 1990 Semester One: August- December

“Reciprocity”

Waking up on a real mattress is the first dead giveaway that the bed she wakes up in is not her own. Anyone unfortunate to fall for the absolute scheme that is getting a college education knows the back-breaking lumps that are the “mattresses'' supplied to each dorm room on unGodly squealing cheap bed frames that give a shout with each movement. But she’s laying on a real mattress… with no bed frame. She’s really just laying on a mattress laid out right on the floor. For a moment, looking up at a ceiling with water damage and cobwebs she criticizes some of the life choices that she has made getting here. If it were up to her, Emily Prentiss wouldn’t have come to college at all. She isn’t the kind of girl worth wasting that sort of energy on, not when she’s pretty enough to get by on looks and has her mother’s career to fall back on. Her hobbies lie in illegal affairs-- smoking pot and getting drunk. It makes her incredibly social but she’s not book-smart. School just isn’t her thing. (Which is entirely untrue but sometimes self-image distorts lies too near fact hood). Propping herself up on one arm she gathers the sheets up in a bunch in her hand, covering her naked chest from any of the occupants of the room. To call it a room might be a stretch, there’s hardly any room for the mattress on the floor and the desk by her left. She’s also alone she realizes by scanning the room and catching sight of the alarm clock on the floor she understands why. It’s nearly nine-thirty in the morning-- everyone within a ten-mile radius of her is probably in class right now. Well, if you absolve the students like her: campus’s soon to be drop-outs. With a groan she tosses the sheets off of herself, shifting around the room until she can find her clothes and get out of this disgusting house. Without the protection of the sheets, goosebumps break out across her skin. Her naked body shivering against it as she stretches out, raising her arms above her head and heaving a deep yawn. There’s a sticky note waiting for her, informing her that there isn’t any food around but feel free to grab herself some coffee downstairs. She won’t be doing that but at least whoever the guy is he isn’t her typical sleazeball sort. They typically have her walking back home in the dark as soon as they’re done having their fun.

Her clothes have been neatly folded at the end of the bed, even her underwear which is really a surprise. Folding herself back into them, she grimaces at the distinctly dirty feel that they have. The thick scent of booze and cigarette smoke clinging to them doesn’t help. With no hair tie in sight, she knows better than to waste her time looking, she pushes her bangs back with her hands settling on using a pencil she finds on the floor to twist it up and hold it in place. As she’s sliding the pencil against her scalp, securing her hair she spots a joint discarded by the edge of the mattress. She doesn’t waste the energy in contemplating stealing it, just slots it into her back pocket. That will be fun for later, her pregame for the party tonight. A fun little treat for last night. She even finds a Zippo which gets placed in her joint’s neighboring pocket. A real nice treat, indeed. It takes her a moment to get out of the house, the very last thing that she wants is to be seen by any of the other occupants. For the most part, the coast is clear. She thinks she might hear someone downstairs puking but from the stairs to the main door she’s in the clear. There’s no one in sight. With a glance over her shoulder she grabs a round, amber-filled glass she spots sitting turned over on its side by the couch. Giggling as she tucks it under her arm and makes a run for it. The chill of the October morning shakes her thin bones with its just present enough touch ghosting over her bare legs and arms. The weather rarely permits such exposing clothing anymore but the Crown Royal tucked under her arm will warm her right back up, she just needs to make it to the dorms. No sense in wasting good whiskey on a little shivering, not when she has a comforter to crawl into and a hangover to nurse with something cheap and clear. The first time that Emily Prentiss meets Aaron Hotchner he’s fighting the lighter cupped in his hand, standing with his back to the light breeze. He’s shaking from a chill despite it being nearly seventy degrees out and sunny, gripping under his breath and bobbing the unlit cigarette between his teeth as he does so. The large sweater he wears over his boney shoulders does well to hide his thin body but can not save onlookers from the haunted bags under his eyes. They’re the first thing that she notices as she steps up to him. Without a word she flips the lid of her Zippo open, lighting it with an easy flick and holding the flame out for him. He glances at her-- all bloodshot, sleepless brown eyes-- and leans in, fingers trembling as he cups his palms around the Zippo for a protective barrier. Until the end of the cigarette burns bright red and he pulls in a breath, stepping back to get a good shuddering inhale before he pulls off and offers around a plume of smoke, “thanks.” His voice is rasped from the smoke he’s just inhaled but pinched from disuse and he can’t honestly remember the last person he actually talked to. She shrugs, it’s no sweat off her back. This isn’t even her Zipp, well it is now but she didn’t buy it and no one bought it for her. As a semi-excuse for some of her riskier behavior, she made a vow to herself to never let a man put his hands down her pants without her getting something out of it too. Since it’s rarely an orgasm she’s the proud owner of many men’s oversized articles of clothing, small knick-knacks from nightstands, this Zippo, and the joints they leave unattended. It’s just simple reciprocity. “Cigarette?” he offers, holding the box out to her. She lingers just long enough that he assumes she’s a smoker, doing that sort of awkward shuffle that fellow smokers take on before they ask to “bum a smoke”. The same one he does when he runs short at the end of the month and is pretending to have the forethought to consider putting his money to food and not cigarettes. But she shakes her head, tucking her Zippo back into her pocket and walking away. He’d consider it weird if he didn’t know he’d do the same thing. He hasn’t got the time to be messing with skimpily dressed girls, especially

the sort that looks the kind of trouble that she is. He’s here on a pretentious scholarship. The sort that doesn’t blink twice before dismissing students from their program for poor grades and he might have gotten himself here but he is no one’s definition of a genius. He’s going to smoke this cigarette and bask in the sun for as long as he can before going back into the looming walls of the library and to work on an article reflection for his Sociology class. Which he already knows he will get a 92% on because they’re facing the ass end of November and he’s gotten a single hundred on the twenty or so of these reviews he’s written and all the rest the same score of 92. It’s nothing to complain about, that’s a nice score to be sat at, but it irks him just a little to be planted so firmly like that. Unlike Emily Prentiss, his parents could not offer him any real edge or flourish to get him into this college. His father was a lawyer and while he did make great money it was only in the context of the small town they lived in, an impoverished and drug-hungry place. There Aaron was an oddity in every way that a teenager could be-- coming from a household with two college-educated parents, severely underweight from abuse that went entirely unchecked, finding reprieve in the books he could bury himself in, and discovering his best coping mechanism in either the dissociative flick of pages and weight of a book in his hands or chain-smoking. Though he’d never had enough to say to be good at the social aspects smoking can offer. He’s gotten good at standing at the backs of buildings and smoking alone. The stinger, the worst part is that his father has managed to isolate him. Even in death that man never lets him win. According to the will that he left behind his mother can’t give him a dime of the money, nothing to help with tuition or food or to pay for a dorm. If she breaks the terms of his will then she can’t get his pension until Sean’s of age to make decisions about the money. Aaron’s fairly certain that there is nothing legal about that but the will is headed by one of his father’s assistants and everyone in that office was as loyal as dogs to him. Aaron is nothing to them and his mother has never risked anything for him, he knows she won’t start now. Emily is in every way that can be observed by others his opposite. “Knock, knock.” One of the girls from Emily’s floor sticks her head in Emily’s room, flicking on the light to the room without a second thought to the woman buried under the sheets. “Girly,” she says with a shake of her head. “When was the last time you went to class?” She might not be Emily’s closest friend on the floor but she knows she hasn’t seen Emily out of this room for anything more than liquor and parties. Which is none of her business but how can she even hope to do anything without at least doing assignments? They’ll kick her out. Emily groans from under the safe haven of her bedsheets, picking up her head to squint and see who is bothering her. “What do you want?” she asks. “Food. I was going to go to the dining hall, I just wanted to see if you wanted to come with me.” Emily shakes her head, digging her fingers into the tender flesh of her temples as the light makes her head throb and her stomach queasy. She’s hungover and right now she needs to sleep before she self-medicates with the shitty vodka under her pillow and heads to the party they’re having downtown. It’s not a frat party but it’s something and she knows the guy who lives next door. With a groan, she falls back onto her stiff mattress. “I’m good,” she answers. “Catch you another time?” The other girl lingers for just a moment, watching Emily snuggle back into the sheets and she shakes her head. She’s ruining her life. It’s one thing to not place any importance on college, to be the sort of person that just doesn’t see the flourish or point in it. Life is full of balance, not everyone should want to go to college but people like Emily need the balance. People like her need to scrape by and fall flat on their faces-- they need

ups and downs and overwhelming projects to get some sense of what life is actually like. They need a wake-up call and Emily is wasting hers. She’s not strong enough to face the world just yet but if she keeps fucking around like this, nothing her mother does can save her. No money in the world can teach a hard lesson like this one. The night before the meeting she has scheduled with the Dean, the sort that only comes with lots of money and the kind of threats that come from high, scary places, Emily goes out like she always does. Doing exactly as she’d planned: waking up at seven o’clock to shower and apply lipstick that some dumb boy will likely lick and smear off. Placing her bare feet on her cold tiled floor she groans, not even blinking before reaching into her dresser and pulling out Smirnoff she keeps buried under her bras. It stings going down but if she’s patient it’ll dull the splitting ache trying to pry the lobes of her brain open. Burning fingers digging themselves into the soft tissue of her brain. Tonight will end just the last and the one before that. She’ll find a hungry man-- sometimes they look like they’re not waiting for an invite and others that she knows she’s just corrupting-- and let him use her body in exchange for all the liquor she can get down her throat before they can undo her jeans. Wake up, again, in a bed that is not her own and when she’s walking home she’ll find that tall, tree-like kid standing by the back of the library but this time his cigarette will be lit. The expression across his face nearly zin, despite the tears drying against his cheeks. His chin turned up to the sun. She’ll lower her gaze and keep walking. She’s late for her meeting with the Dean. “Miss Prentiss--” Emily recoils, averting her gaze to the old, shitty carpet of the Dean’s office. She hates being called by her last name, hates being something her mother can own. That’s all she’s ever been her entire life, some little flyer for her mother to tac up on her board of accomplishments. An award to float around because motherhood can be commendable if you weaponize it enough. “Emily,” the Dean corrects with a sigh. “You’re on probation, do you understand?” His fingers are steepled on his desk, giving her that look a thousand men before him have given her. She doesn’t even have to look up to know his eyes wander to her breast far too many times to be considered an accident. “I don’t think I have to tell you that this has nothing to do with the school’s faith in your abilities.” Her chest flushes, she can feel the skin heat up under the tone of his voice. Her mother got her into this school, nothing about her grades or her charm. Nothing about Emily is worth anything just the Prentiss she can’t seem to get rid of. “If your grades don’t improve, if you can’t meet the school’s requirements by the end of next semester you will fail out.” He has the most unfortunate voice, so annoying. “Do you understand?” Oh, yeah and he’s a patronizing bastard. She hates it when adults do that shit. Always mocking. Is it not enough they get to listen to themselves go on these long-winded tangents about honor or faith or self-image but to tac that belittling question at the end. To force you to meet their gaze and mumble that you do. All for what? So he can see what her breasts look like when she extends her right hand to shake his? To see if they move when she stands? Fuck him. “Yes, sir,” she says with a nod. “I understand.” She doesn’t shake his hand. Walking out of his office she keeps her head high, refusing to let her emotion show on her face. The heartbreak she feels splitting her chest open. Before she knows it, she’s walking towards the library. She’s never even been inside but she thinks about that boy and the face he’d made this morning. How relaxed he’d looked and she needs that. Needs whatever he found there. To let go of this feeling eating her alive, the sadness she’d told herself she wouldn’t feel when she walked into that office and found that her mother hadn’t even bothered to come. Hadn’t cared to even ask

if Emily was okay. If her behavior was the product of something else. She sinks down against the wall, bringing her knees to her chest, and lets her forehead fall down against them. How could she be so silly? So foolish? Of course, her mother wouldn’t show up to a meeting with the Dean. God, she’s so fucking gullible. So stupid. All she can do is choke on sobs, pulling in shuddering breaths and trying to stifle the sounds she makes. She just wants to burn alive with the anger she feels. To set fire to something and see the destruction. Ruin something. Somewhere between half-expecting the door beside her to fly open and that mess of a boy whose cigarette she’d lit to come out she realizes that she can smell the smoke lingering in the air. He’s had his smoke break and won’t be out anytime soon. For some reason that makes her cry even harder, that she can’t even find comfort in some stranger. But she could just walk into the library and find him, it wouldn’t be that hard. He wears the same thing every time she sees him-- an oversized earth-tone sweater and old jeans. And, as she’s thinking about dragging her sorry ass up and into that library she realizes something. She has the control to go into that building and find the guy. She has the control every night when she goes out to party, to get lost in some boy’s half-assed touches, and cheap liquor. Emily has all of the control. Her mother gave her a second chance, she knows it was purely for the high that old bitch will get when Emily fails out. When Emily finally proves that she’s not good for anything. But she has the control, not her mother. Wiping the tears on her face she pulls in a deep breath and knows. She knows what she’s going to do next. She is going to ruin something. Her mother isn’t right about her. Emily Prentiss turns her face to the sun and she knows exactly what the cigarette boy felt this morning. Release.