#she can be right! she can even humiliate me! sir that is a ten year old

[fridge246]

deliberately losing petty arguments to children Can be a form of tactical spite. if you aren't a coward.

[peachysunrize]

[TANGERINE DREAMS]

summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

word count: 5.2k+

warnings: angst & fluff! English isn’t my first language<3

a/n: loviessssss welcome to the first chap of my summer romance! I hope you love this as much as I do when I’m writing it! Reblogs & comments are most appreciated🥹🍊 and very special thank you to @namelesslosers for betaing this for me<33🩷

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

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Chapter 1: runaway bride

He shouldn’t be stressed, should he? 

Everything is in the right place; groomsmen are standing behind him while fixing each other’s coats and reassuring him, bridesmaids are in front of him as they talk and giggle, the guests are whispering and the priest is tapping his fingers on his watch.

Alys is a few minutes late, but it’s just a few minutes, there’s nothing to worry about. Aemond knows she must be even more stressed than he is. It’s their big day after all and naturally, the bride is the more anxious one. Surely that’s true, right? But why are his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his coat uncontrollably, why is rocking on the ball of his feet? He can’t be that nervous.

He looks around, finding his mum biting her nails. She searches around the room, looking for someone, anyone, to come and tell her about her bride-to-be’s whereabouts. His eye finds Helaena, watching as she caresses the flower petals before meeting his gaze, smiling broadly at him. He smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes to convince her he’s doing alright. He is alright, just a tad bit too stressed for everyone’s liking, especially Helaena who can sense his nerves buzzing with excitement and fear. 

The church Alicent chose for his wedding has been used by Targaryens for years and passed on for generations. The walls covered in royalty tapestries of mythical Valyrian gods have seen many weddings and unions, and now, they will see his wedding.

He sighs, wanting to run his fingers through his hair but remembering his hair is in a low bun and his Mum would kill him if he ruined his perfectly done hair. He sighs again, looking up at the ceiling, his brow furrowing in worry.

What is taking her so long? She should have been here ten minutes ago.

Aemond turns around and looks at Daeron, their eyes meeting for a brief second before his younger brother nods and walks to the corner of the hall before slipping out the door without any hesitation. 

“Don’t worry, brother, she’ll come around,” Aegon says, his breath stinking with the three glasses of champagne he’s had from the bar in the garden attached to the church grounds, where they will host the party.

“This isn’t another simple date she can be late to. This is our wedding, Aegon!” He exhales shakily, his voice barely above whispering.

He knows he is right, even Aegon knows he is right, but there is little they both can do. They need to wait for her to show up eventually. She will, won’t she? Of course she will, it was Alys who was too eager to marry, start a family, and take a step towards their shared dreams. She reassured him of his hesitation, and he agreed to do this with a heart full of love.

“Sir,” the priest calls him, “I’m needed for another ceremony in about an hour and the ride there will take a long—“

“She will come,” Aemond’s response is more of a reassurance to him than the priest, “you must have seen this more than us, Sir, the bride always shows up.”

“Yes, yes, my apologies,” the man nods his head, going back to do whatever he was doing before. 

With every second that passes and Alys doesn’t show up he grows more restless, beads of sweat forming on his hairline. Aemond is a closed-up person, not really used to showing his feelings and emotions outwardly, but now, he is tapping his foot on the ground while his eye swipes at the guests, finding his half-sister’s family behind his Mum — he averts his eye quickly. The last thing he needs is to get furious over his sister’s goblins.

“What is taking her so long?” He hears someone say from the guests, even their stupid gossip is not enough to distract them from how late the bride is. He is growing desperate at this point, the muscles in his shin are growing tired with how fast he is tapping his foot on the floor, his fingers can no longer fidget with his coat instead his nails are digging into his sweaty palm.

Please, please, Alys, just open this door… He thinks to himself before spotting Daeron sneaking inside the hall with you on your toe. He watches as the two of you make your way toward Helaena, whispering something in her ear before she and Daeron leap out of the hall in a second, catching everyone’s attention.

The hall grows noisier, and the hushed whispers turn into loud accusations and questions; “Where is the bride?”

“I have always known she was problematic!” 

“Eight years older? How scandalous!”

“How did Viserys Targaryen let his son marry her?”

“I have heard she has quite the reputation with men, always after their money—“

Now his hands are shaking, he hides them by locking them behind his back before he looks in front of him, trying to mask out the noise. Aemond catches your eye, watching as you give him a reassuring smile before taking slow steps towards him.

“Hey you.”

“Hey…” he replies as best as he can without his voice breaking, “you look beautiful.”

“So do you, little nerd!” You reach to fix his bowtie, trying to calm him down a bit, “not so little though, right? You’re getting married before me!”

“Yeah, I’m younger and I beat you to it,” he chuckles a little, silently thanking you for keeping a leash on his nerves.

It’s always been like this since the two of you remember. Growing up close to the Targaryens as Helaena’s kindergarten friend until now, you have grown to know each of the siblings like the back of your hand, especially Aemond who was a constant presence in your games with Helaena since he could walk — sometimes it feels like you are his best friend and not Helaena’s with how attentive you are to him. As much as he wishes for that to be true, he knows the bond you share with his sister is something so precious and special that no one can break it.

“Just so you wait, Aemond, you won’t be invited to my wedding when the time comes!” You tease him, trying to lighten his mood, reaching to fix a few strands of hair that have fallen out of his bun.

“That’s not fair—“

Everyone falls silent when the door is pushed open, revealing a heaving Daeron and a very anxious Helaena. You both turn around to look at the siblings, meeting them halfway with Aegon following you closely. 

“We…” Helaena starts, but she can’t talk. Something bad must have happened for her to be so speechless.

“What?” You ask gently, resting your hand on her shoulders in hopes of trying to get her to talk.

“We found Alys,” Daeron looks at Aemond with an unreadable expression, “but she…”

“Spit it out for fuck sake!” Aegon whispers through gritted teeth, his hand shoved in his pockets as he waits for Daeron to finish his sentence.

“She doesn’t want to get married,” Helaena blurts out, swallowing the lump in her throat as she looks at Aemond with sad sympathetic eyes.

“Hel, this is insane. Did she say it herself—“ you say, frowning slightly.

“Criston is holding her back from running away. There’s a car parked outside, I think—“

Aemond can’t listen to these words anymore, so he pushes past his siblings and you, jogging out of the church towards the attached garden, finding Cole and Alys tangled in a messy fight as she tries to escape from his grasp.

“Alys!” He yells her name, making the couple freeze, but in a second, she knees Cole in his stomach and runs past him, her long white dress drags across the grass as she bolts out of the gates too fast for Aemond to be able to catch up, and once he does, he watches the car leave.

The noises around him vanish, and all he can hear is the thumping of his pulse in his ears, and the sharp breaths he takes. The world around him seems to disappear, and his good eye follows the path the car is taking, his fingers are tingling, his chest rising and falling rapidly while he tries to regain his grip on himself.

He sighs, finally his senses coming back as he looks around him, finding you, his Mum, and his siblings running towards him. Aemond doesn’t wish to talk to anyone, he wants to stay invisible, for the world to swallow him whole and keep him away from the humiliation that is about to be unleashed on him.

“Darling—“

“Aemond—“

The group reaches him, Alicent cups his face in her warm hands as she looks at him with tears stinging her eyes. Aemond can see how devastated she is about him, how she desperately wants to say something and ease his pain but the words are lost in the air when she opens her mouth to utter them.

He reaches and holds her wrists gently, pressing her palms against his cheeks as they silently communicate their emotions — no words need to be said, they understand, Alicent understands his pain, and he knows that she would take it away if she could.

“We should tell the guests,” Aemond says before letting go of his Mum’s hands, striding past his siblings and you towards the salon attached to the church, finding many of the guests already there — his half-sister and her kids with a few other relatives.

He knows they are waiting to hear more of this mess just to taunt him and make his day worse. Everyone knows they are looking for one mistake from him and his family to ruin their reputation, and now, with Aemond Targaryen’s runaway bride, they must be ecstatic.

“What happened, nephew? We thought we were invited for a traditional wedding, but all we see is a lonely groom—“

The glare Aemond gives his uncle and nephews is enough for them to shut up. He tries to put up a strong front, head held high and hands folded behind his back, but if you squint you can see how his resolve is crumbling with each second that he spends in their presence.

He decides not to give in to their silly games and walks towards the bar before he snatches the pack of cigarettes on the stool, leaving the room without saying a word. His mind is foggy as he tries to walk past everyone, he is handling many things at the same time but the bitter and heavy feeling in his chest crushes his strength to process it.

The sound of chatter and gossip fades away as he walks through the back garden of the church; a few little benches and a fountain in the corner hidden from the eyes of the guests with a wisteria tree.

This area could have made a romantic core memory for Aemond and Alys if only things had gone differently…

With a deep sigh, he sits on the ground, his back against the fountain as he fiddles with his bow tie, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt, his coat falling on the ground next to him. He opens the pack of cigarettes, pulling one out before he reaches in his pants for a lighter — something he is sure you’d scold him for as you always do, teasing him lightheartedly about his obsession with lighters.

When he inhales the smoke, his mind gets clearer, and he can think a little better, but he is not sure if he would really like to do so. His ex-fiancé left him just a few minutes ago, and his mind fills with dreadful thoughts.

Was it him?

Was he too young for her? Too immature?

Did she change her mind because she loved someone else?

Was he too strict and selfish?

Was it really him who brought this on himself? On his family?

He blows out the smoke, resting his elbow on his knee as he reaches to untie his bun, his hair falling freely around his shoulders while the droplets of water land on the soft silver strands from the fountain.

It is the beginning of the summer, the spring chill of the weather is replaced with an increasing heat, the birds chipper and he can see the peachy hue of sunset in the sky from between the leaves of the tree.

He feels numb, a dull ache in his chest blooming as the reality hits him. Aemond takes another drag of his cigarette, throwing his head back, and letting his hair fall inside the water fountain. He sniffs, closing his eye to keep his tears from flowing down, the storm of his thoughts wrecking his mind once again.

He loves her, she was his everything from the start — his first kiss, first girlfriend, first fight. Alys was his everything, and now, she is nothing but a memory, a memory he wishes to wipe away quickly. 

How can you claim to love someone and leave them without any remorse? 

There is guilt and sadness, but mostly it’s the doubt and self-hatred that makes him want to sob. Many questions are swirling in his head about how he is the reason she has left. Maybe she was right about leaving him, no one would like to be the wife of a man who deals with heavy pain daily.

He takes another drag, relishing in the feeling of the soft evening breeze that kisses his heated skin, cooling him down a little. The smell of smoke grounds him in this world, making him forget about the mess that is probably happening in the church. He is sure his siblings and Mum are trying their best to talk to Alys’ relatives and other guests, explaining the situation in a hurry.

“Your suite must have cost thousands,” you say casually, announcing your presence as you walk with your long dress in hand, careful with how uneasy your heels feel on the soft grass, making your way to where he is sitting.

“Nothing compared to the decorations she ordered,” he scoffs, putting out his cigarette on the edge of the stone of the fountain before he straightens his neck and looks at you.

“Yeah, I saw them,” you sigh, fisting your skirt before sitting next to him, shoulders touching subtly, “she has a very… interesting taste. Who’d thought a lawyer would be into witchcraft?”

“She likes things no one can understand,” he says, gazing up at the wisteria tree, “I also paid for the dress you are getting wet grass stains on—“

“That was irrelevant because Hel bought it for me! She knew how much of an ass you’d be about it,” you chuckle a little, watching as a ghost of a smile finds its way to his face before it falters and his eye drops to the grass, the smile no longer visible.

“Yeah, maybe that’s why Alys left,” he scoffs in disbelief again, shaking his head a little as he thinks of every bad trait he has, considering all of them could be the reason she decided she was better off without him.

“Her loss,” you say softly, “you are too funny, little nerd, even for someone who can be a stuck-up ass sometimes.”

“You are lucky my sister loved you enough to keep you around because I’d get rid of you the second I could,” he mumbles, huffing out a small laugh when you punch his biceps playfully.

“That’s not nice, Aemond!” You laugh together, rubbing the place where you hit him, “You love me too, that’s why you will never get tired of me,” saying this, you can see his shoulder tensing — love, what a weird word to use. 

Does he love you? Does he even love anyone?

Maybe he does, but it wasn’t enough to keep his fiance with him.

Maybe his love was too much for Alys to bear.

“How did you find me?” He asks, his voice hoarse and thick, “I was trying to be invisible.”

“Give me that—“ you grab the pack of cigarettes from him, pulling one out and waiting for Aemond to light it for you. You inhale a puff, handing it back to him before looking up at the sky, “do you remember when you’d steal my books and go into your old stables to read?”

“I do, no one could find me,” he takes a drag of the cigarette, blowing out the smoke before he talks, “but you did.”

“I believed you would do it because you wanted someone to look for you,” you look at him with soft eyes, “and I always did. Your siblings had no idea where you would go, but I knew you like the back of my hand. Or maybe I just wanted my book back!”

He matches your smile, but you can see the pain in his eye, this is not a time to beat around the bush. He wishes to let it out — whatever it is. Perhaps it’s anger, frustration, betrayal, maybe it’s his ultimate desire to vanish into thin air to save himself from the press and humiliation that he’ll be going through.

“What did I do wrong?” He asks, and you must be able to see the agony he is in, he is in grave distress, and the cloud of doubt is causing a tornado in his head that will kill the remaining of his confidence, “did I not give her enough love, show her how much I wanted her?”

“You gave her your heart, something you would never do for someone you didn’t like,” you reach and squeeze his shoulder, “you did your best, gave her your everything. We all saw how devoted you were, it is not your fault.”

“Then why? Why?!” He asks desperately, looking at you with his wide teary eye, the ocean blue orb staring into your soul with need, “I thought I was everything she wanted, she said it herself—“ he looks away before he can cry, throwing his head back to stop the tears from falling, putting the cigarette between his thin lips.

“You are more than enough, Aemond—“

“She wasn’t worth it, was she?” He cuts you off, “she took me for granted,” he sounds so little, so fragile, and he feels so.

“You loved her! I’m sure, Aemond, that your love for her was so beautiful and precious, it was Alys who couldn’t be better.”

“She was the one who wanted to get married as soon as possible…” he whispers, closing his eye as he talks with the cigarette between his lips, “even Aegon made fun of me for not saying no to her, he said I needed to grow up and not give in to her whims.”

“Aegon is a little shit, he can’t even keep one girl in a one-month relationship. He should be the last person on earth to get advice from,” You nudge his shoulder, grab the cigarette, and pull it away from his lips, “loving your partner is not a crime. So what? You liked spoiling her, did you not?”

“Yeah, I did…” he says, looking back down at his fingers rubbing over the fabric of his pants, “Alys used to tell me I was a kid too, that I needed to grow up or else I wouldn’t be a good husband.”

“Oh, Aemond…”

He averts his gaze towards you, tears brimming in his eye, “I did everything I could,” he is helpless, the gut-wrenching feeling is eating him alive.

“Don’t bottle it up, little nerd,” you reach and push a few strands of his hair behind his ear, “you can cry, I’m here.”

And he does; he rests his head on your shoulder and starts sobbing quietly, tears falling on his scarred cheek.

“I’m here,” you whisper, wrapping your arm around his shoulders, making him feel safe enough to pour his emotions out.

Aemond has been avoiding the situation as best as he can; ignoring his grandfather’s calls, not leaving the house for a few weeks, and trying to get a hold on his life again.

All his efforts are in vain.

He still lives in the same apartment in Rosby he and Alys bought a few months ago, their photos and pictures hanging on the walls, the bed they used to sleep on together, their bathroom, their kitchen — everything feels like an old movie reel, a twilight zone he doesn’t know if he likes to leave or embrace and drown in it.

Aemond has been keeping contact with his siblings throughout the past week, refusing their help to come and live with him for a while, saying he wanted some time alone to figure out what he wished to do from then on.

The media is filled with pictures of him standing outside the garden catching the car speeding away — how the paparazzi get there? No one knows but the fingers are pointed at his half-sister and uncle. The pictures are all over the news and the internet, mainly using his Targaryen name to drag him into the dirt.

He plops down on the couch, unlocking his phone only to be greeted with thousands of texts from his Mum and Daeron, begging him to come home and stay the summer with them in Targaryen residency. It’s not an idea he hasn’t entertained before, in fact, he would like to go back home and take some time off for himself. So he texts Alicent and tells her he’ll move in with them for a while until he is better and ready to come back to this forsaken apartment.

He starts packing a few hours later, dirty clothes thrown into the washing machine while he sits on the floor with a huge suitcase ready to be filled. Suddenly his phone starts ringing, startling him greatly. He reaches for the phone on the bed, looking at the screen to see who’s calling him. You. Your name lights up his phone, making him smile a little, thinking probably the word has spread like wildfire.

“Hey,”

“Hey yourself, little nerd!” You say enthusiastically, “heard you wanna move back into your Mum’s place.”

“Hmm, yeah,” he sighs, securing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he talks to you, “a change would be nice, especially for the summer.”

“Then you’re in luck!” You reply, “Hel asked me to come and spend the summer at the mansion too!” he chuckles when he hears you groaning over who knows what before continuing, “Anyway, I’ll come to your place whenever you want so I can help you pack whatever you’d like to take there and then drive to King’s Landing.”

“Sounds great, I really appreciate the offer,” he agrees, grabbing the phone as soon as the washing machine stops, “I’d like it if you could take some time and come here tomorrow?”

“Of course, just send me the location, alright? The sooner we pack, the sooner we can have some of Aegon’s magnificent cocktails!”

“Urgh, that loser will be home too?” He feigns a groan, breaking character when he hears your snort.

“Stop being mean to him, he makes the best Sex on the Beach!” You both chuckle, knowing you are right, Aegon does make the best cocktails known to humankind, “We’ll have fun there, and I’ve missed Vhagar so much!”

“I missed her too,” Aemond says fondly, “thank you again for helping me out, I wouldn’t have reached out if you didn’t call me.”

“Oh I know, that’s why I called. You can always count on me! Anyway, I’ll come tomorrow and help you pack.”

“Alright, thank you, I’ll text you the address,” Aemond says, grabbing the basket to empty the wet clothes from the washing machine.

“See you tomorrow, Little nerd!”

“You should have told me you have a Chevy Camaro, I doubt we can fit anything in this little car!” you hug and greet him when he opens the door, “I brought my things too if it’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, sure, the sooner we pack, the sooner we can leave!” He replies, grabbing your suitcase’s handle, and leading you inside his apartment, “Don’t worry, my car has carried much larger things. This is nothing.”

“Whatever you say! Now— woah, you are packed already?” You look around the room, a few boxes neatly put on top of each other and labeled, one backpack and another half-filled suitcase on the floor.

“I just need some help with my clothes and whether I should…” he points at the framed photos on the walls, photos of him and Alys, “throw them out or send them to her with her belongings.”

“Well, I think you should give it some time before you do something you might regret,” you squeeze his shoulder lightly, “it seems we can go tonight, right? You don’t have many things left to pack.”

“Yeah, just a few clothes! You can get the snack while I put them in the suitcase—“

“No, no, lemme fold your clothes! You should start putting the boxes away, I’ll get everything ready,” you pat him on the chest, walking towards his bedroom to fold his clothes for him.

He nods silently and thanks you before he grabs the boxes and leaves the apartment. You both work quickly, taking a break and having tea together, you ask about how he’s holding up, and he dismisses your questions as best as he can, not really wishing to entertain the thoughts that’ll disturb him.

“Aemond, do you want to bring your books too?” You ask him, groaning as you drop the heavy box on his bed, “because I doubt we’ll have enough space to take all of these with us to King’s Landing.”

“Just those that are already tucked away!” He yells from the kitchen, finishing cooking for you, “We’ll finish it after dinner, c’mon.”

“Okay,” you sigh tiredly, not really expecting the packing to drag on for so long. After all, he said he only needed a few clothes, not half of his wardrobe with his expensive watches and sunglasses.

“I think we have packed enough for at least ten spontaneous parties Aegon will be throwing this summer,” you mutter, sitting behind the island in the kitchen.

“I doubt he’d let an occasion like my birthday let go so easily now that I’m back home,” Aemond shrugs, handing you a plate, “he mostly ignores the occasion but I’m sure he and Mum will do something, and make a huge deal out of it. That’s why I need to be prepared.”

“Well, it’s the first birthday in a while that I’m attending too so it better be something good!” You tease him, thanking him for the delicious meal.

“It will be, or at least Mum’s plans will be great. She has Daeron as her non-assigned assistant now that I’m gone and they make quite the duo. They always host the best gatherings together.”

“Alicent is a perfectionist, of course, she’ll be the best person to throw a birthday party for you,” you agree with him, “but you can’t deny that Aegon’s parties are always better! He’s reckless, and the drinks are the best.”

“Only the best for the oldest Targaryen son, right?” He sighs again, looking down at his plate, “Sorry, it slipped my tongue, I shouldn’t have said it.”

“It’s okay,” you reach and rub his forearm, “you’re dealing with lots of things now, I understand, we all do.”

“I hope I don’t ruin your summer with us with my stupid sappy attitude,” Aemond jokes — or at least tries to.

“Sappy or not, you are my best friend’s brother, and I watched you grow up! There is nothing you can do to make my time with you miserable,” you smile at him softly, finishing your plate before you both stand up to get ready and leave, “I’ll take care of the dishes, you go close your suitcase and we take whatever’s left to your car.”

Time passes quickly and you find yourself getting inside Aemond’s car later than you expected. He makes sure everything is packed and safe both in the apartment and in the trunk before he gets inside the passenger seat — he can’t drive at night because of his eyesight so you’ll drive to King’s Landing. It’s not a long ride fortunately; four hours by car and you’ll be there in no time.

Aemond, despite trying to keep up with the conversation, falls asleep halfway through the road, and you let him take a nap before you arrive there and get bombarded by questions left and right.

When you pull in front of the entrance gates, Cole is already waiting for you, ready to take your bags out and park the car even though someone else could be doing it.

“Hi, Cole,” Aemond greets him with a thick voice, rubbing his sleepy eye before he gives Criston a halfway hug, patting his back.

You shut down the engine, get out of the car, and greet Cole after you hand him the remote, following Aemond in the path leading to the entrance door with a few boxes in hand as you help him take a few of his belongings inside the house.

Alicent is already waiting in front of the door anxiously, slowly rubbing her throat and neck as she waits for Aemond to reach her before she brings him in a tight embrace, not minding the sharp points of the boxes digging in her sides — just having her son with her is enough to remedy all of her pain.

“My darling,” she tears up a little, caressing his hair and kissing his cheek, “I’m so happy you decided to come home, I missed you so much.” “I missed you too, Mother,” he pulls back a little to put the boxes down and hug her completely, resting his head on top of hers as she wraps her arms around him.

Everyone is interrupted when a series of barks echo in the house, and in a second, a huge fluffy black Chow Chow jumps on Aemond, licking his face happily. Vhagar, oh, how he missed his old lady. He chuckles and scratches behind her ears, ignoring all the stares as he reunites with her.

“Babyyyyyyy!” Helaena squeals before she runs towards you to help you with Aemond’s things, kissing you and giving you a side hug, “Thank you for agreeing to come! I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun together.”

“Thank you for having me, lovey!”

“I’m so thankful you helped him, darling,” Alicent pulls away from the pair nearly lying on the floor while one of them is having his face licked, her hand caressing your back as she draws you in her arms as well, “Thank you for bringing home, I’m in debt to you—”

“Oh, no, it was nothing!” You look at her before giving Aemond and Vhagar a cheeky smile, “It was the least I could do, I’m glad I could help.”

“Come, come! You must be tired, your rooms are ready. Cole will take your bags,” she says, leading the way with Aemond who has his free arm wrapped around Daeron, and Vhagar jumps next to his feet while you and Helaena follow them.

“Aegon is asleep, you know him, he has big plans for this summer, especially now that Aemond can use some distraction,” she bumps her shoulder to yours, “meaning we’ll have the time of our lives!”

“Yeah,” you smile at her before looking ahead of you, catching Aemond turning around to give you a quick smile, “What a summer it’ll be.”

[johnsamericano]

Ꭰąվ 𝟙Ӡ

➱ Ẃօղց Ƴմƙհҽí

Yukhei isn’t one to fall for those he sleeps with, but you, a stranger he met by chance, manage to steal his heart with just a few smiles.

genre: angst, smut

warnings: sex, childhood trauma, bullying, mentions of eating disorders, bully!lucas (he was trying to fit in)

a/n: so. Ik there’s a lot of rumors surrounding Lucas (most of them have already been debunked) but I didn’t want to leave him out of this, he’s still a part of NCT, after all. If you feel uncomfortable reading this, you can scroll down, no harsh feelings. But if you do read this, please bear in mind that this is not a realistic description of his personality. I am in no way saying he’s a certain way or another, this is purely fiction and that’s just how the story turned out as I wrote it. That said, enjoy.

☞ taglist: @morningsunandnightsky @soberhani @aaasteroidsky @chenlewifey @piaozhisheng @doeilovr @aedreamzy

falling masterlist

“In about ten minutes, you'll see me going out the door with that beauty.” As cocky as ever, Lucas was getting ready to conquer his next pray.

“I don't know man, she's rejected the last three people that approached her.”

“Wanna bet?” Unbeknownst to him, you were near enough to hear the conversation between both males, rolling your eyes at their stupid antics.

“50 dollars?”

“Deal.” As soon as they sealed their promise with a handshake, the tall, handsome guy approached you with the drinks he'd previously ordered. “Hey.”

How smooth, you thought, fighting the urge to swat him off as you'd do with an annoying fly. But he needed a lesson as much as you needed revenge.

“Hey, handsome.” Lucas praised himself for his flirting abilities. A gorgeous face had lots of advantages. “Is that for me?” You pointed at the bright-colored drink in his right hand.

“Just for you.” He held the glass out to you, inviting you to sip on the unique drink he'd ordered specifically for you.

“I’m sorry, darling, but just to make sure, can you drink from it first? You can never be too safe.” He grinned, already amused by the brilliant person in front of him. Gladly, he chugged down a fourth of the glass contents. “Thank you.”

“So, what’s your name?” He sat down at the stool on your side, sipping on his own drink as he waited for an answer.

“Y/n, and your’s?”

“Lucas.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Lucas.” You flashed the loveliest smile at him, boldly pressing your palm against his thigh. “Is this alright?”

“More than alright.” He didn't even have to make the first move like usual. “Wanna get out of here? I make the best margaritas, according to some...friends.”

“Gladly.” On his way out, he extended all five fingers to his friend, gesturing he'd lost the bet.

Even with the alcohol in your system, you were wide awake while he drove to his house. It had been a while since you last slept with someone, and it seemed like he knew how to drive himself in bed. Not that you knew, after all, he did nothing but humiliate you back in high school.

“Are you currently in college?” You nodded, lips sealed for now. “Me too. What semester?”

“Fourth.” He hummed. So you were the same age.

After parking in front of the porch, you exited the car, using your hands to shield yourself from the wind. Lucas was quick to wrap his arms around your shoulders, uncomfortably walking with you stuck to his front.

“You don't need to.”

“It’s alright.” With you still between his arms, he unlocked the front door, quickly turning on the heater. “Better?”

“Thank you.” He guided you to the spacious living room, asking you to wait for him while he prepared your drinks.

There were pictures all over the place, but none of them featured your old classmates. Oddly enough, since they all made the promise to stay together through the years coming.

“One margarita for the beautiful lady.” He sipped on it before drinking, shooting a childish smile before handing it to you.

“Thank you, kind sir.” One after another, you downed three glasses of alcohol, feeling a little dizzy as an outcome. Lucas was no different, his intoxicated state giving him enough courage to pull you onto his lap, holding you flush against his chest.

“Do you like me?” He asked, playing with the thin straps holding your dress in place.

“Yes.” Your cheek was resting against his shoulder comfortably, lost in the warmth his body delivered.

“May I?” His large fingers hesitantly tried to lower the fabric, waiting for an answer.

“You may.” As he undressed you, taking your dress off and leaving you in nothing but your panties, memories of your teenage years flashed through your mind. Perhaps if you'd been pretty back then, he would've been as gentle as he was now. Not the cruel monster you met.

His lips were quivering in what you assumed was anticipation as he inched them closer to your nipples, kissing them tenderly while his hands rubbed your sides.

“You’re so beautiful.” He repeated like a mantra, tears pricking his eyes as he lowered his gaze to the last piece of clothing covering your womanhood. “Let’s go to my room.” He lifted you with ease, hugging to unusually tight as he walked.

He discarded his clothes as well as your panties, kissing your legs adoringly while at it. He liked the way you squirmed, having found your erogenous areas giving him a sense of pride.

“Stop teasing.” You begged as he ghosted his fingertips over your heat for the fifth time. “I want you inside- ah.” He pushed two fingers inside, scissoring them to stretch your entrance. “N-not like this.”

“Relax for me. It'll hurt if you're so tense.” But how could you when it was him in front of you? “Say red if you ever want me to stop, alright?”

“Yes.” You gasped as he sucked his fingers clean. His hands pushed your legs open, placing his knees between them to avoid having you close them again. His thumb rubbed circles over your clit as he aligned himself with you.

“Let go, baby. I want you to enjoy this as much as I know I will.” A bubble of pleasure had started to build in your tummy when he pushed his length into you, setting a slow pace while you got used to it.

“Faster, please.” The fact that he knew you to reach the right places was undeniable. Yet, you wouldn't allow yourself to ever forget who he was.

His fingers laced with yours, lips devouring your mouth as his movements became erratic. His seed spurted inside you, almost immediately triggering your high, milking him unconsciously. But as soon as the pleasure faded, you felt small droplets of water falling on your cheeks.

“Y/n.” He whispered your name with a trembling voice. Something was off. “I’m so sorry.”

“...you knew?” He nodded, letting his weight fall on you, almost as if to stop you from leaving. “Then why didn't you ditch me?”

“It wasn't until you told me your name. You've changed so much, y/n.” He started with a tone of nostalgia. “I know I don't deserve it, but please, let me explain myself.” Your silence encouraged him to keep talking, gathering the last bits of courage he had to apologize. “You’re so perfect, you've always been. The most beautiful girl in our class.”

“So now I was beautiful? That's not what you wrote on my locker, Yukhei.” More droplets feel on your flushed skin, recalling the word ‘pig’ written in big, red letters.

He remembered that day, having thrown up his breakfast as soon as he saw you running away from the metal locker, tears rolling down your perfect, round cheeks. But he was a coward. A teenager whose only desire was to fit in.

“My friends at that time found out I liked you during our junior year. And like the idiot I used to be, I denied it.” You simply wanted to clean yourself up and leave, escape from the memories that haunted you at night. “They dared me to call you out during class to prove it. They all laughed so much that every time we met in the halls, they’d press me to do it again.”

“So now you were the victim?”

“I’ve looked for you these past years, trying to apologize for what I did. And now you're here, the girl of my dreams whose life I ruined during our school years. How ironic.” His grip around your frame was tight, trying to let you know how sorry he was. “I’d give up anything to take back all the things I did.”

“That doesn't fix anything.” The days of making yourself puke, the days of not eating anything but diet pills would never be erased, forever inked on your memory like an ugly tattoo.

“I know nothing I say now will. I can only hope you'll let me redeem myself. Because, y/n, my heart would shatter if I lost you again.”

You remained silent as he snuggled himself into his chest, rubbing your hot skin tenderly.

“I don't expect you to stay. Hell, I wouldn't blame you if you decided to grab that lamp and smash it against my skull.” You couldn't help the small giggle coming out of your mouth. He was trying hard. “But if you do decide you want to stay the night, you'd wake up to the smell of the best pancakes in the state.”

You remained silent as he drifted away to sleep. As soon as soft snores started filling the silence, you slipped out of bed, putting your clothes back on.

He was indeed trying hard. He was truly regretful for what he did. But that wasn't enough, it would never be.

[softsebnbuckystan]

Soul ties - Part 1 (Bucky Barnes au)

“Oh, my my my soul so glad He's popped by to say hello to me„

Your wedding day was coming soon, which is why you were parading around the store in a puffy white dress. You had insisted this is the last thing you did, since you didn't trust yourself with a white dress and unsupervised. Your best friend was there, obviously, and he was a little too excited about this dress.

"I love it", he said. "You look like a princess."

"I'm not sure..." You sighed. "It's too much, I'd like something slimmer, like..."

"A mermaid cut would be stunning on you," the sales assistant chimed in. "I actually think of this dress...wait a second."

She came back as quickly as she'd left with a gorgeous long-sleeved white dress. It was simple, with some lace here and there, and you loved it at first sight. After putting it on, you were convinced Darren, your groom, would love it as much as you did.

"Considering the smile on your face, I don't think I need to ask if you like it."

"No need, indeed. Oh Steve, isn't it beautiful?"

"It is, y/n. This dress found its owner, I believe."

Steve Rogers hadn't been in your life for a long time, and yet you could not imagine your days without his precious advice. He'd done a great job at rescuing you in Sokovia and even though you might not have had the same powers as your little sister Wanda, he decided to protect you as well. That's what Steve did : he protected people he cared about and now, he was your best friend, a brother, a shoulder to cry on and a contagious smile to hear.

"I can't wait to walk you down the aisle."

"Are those tears in your eyes, big guy ?"

He shook his head, visibly moved. You flashed him a cheeky smile as you walked to the changing room and you heard him snort. In the car back home, Steve couldn't help but think about your dress choice. You'd been avoiding this kind question the whole day.

"I love the dress you picked, of course, but is there a peculiar reason you rejected the one that showed some skin?"

You anticipated his next question and decided it was best to answer it right away. Talking about soulmate tattoos never missed to make you feel like an imposter, a liar. You couldn't say you liked that.

"You know the skin isn't the problem, Steve. And no, I still haven't changed my mind about Darren."

Steve looked back at the road and nodded.

"I support you no matter what, you already know that. I just wonder how it's possible he hasn't seen the tattoo yet."

"I'm careful. And whenever he asks, I tell him I was born without one."

"He buys that ?"

"Yeah. It's happened to other people, sadly. He can never know the tattoo doesn't show his first words to me. I love him and that is all that matters." You desperately searched for a change of subject or a way to lighten the mood. "I'm still wondering what my supposed soulmate did – or will do – to me though... I mean, 'shit, i'm sorry' isn't common. I've never seen swear words on anyone's body except mine."

"Well, you are far from common yourself after all."

"I guess you're right."

---

"Ready ?"

You exhaled slowly and closed your eyes for a second. The smell of roses and grass was all around you and you could feel some rays of sunshine hitting your skin. Coming back to yourself, you looked at Steve and placed your hand on his arm.

"Ready," you answered, even though you did not mean that.

"Easy," he said as he felt your hand shake. "Darren is already crazy about you, he's not gonna run away. You on the other hand...well, it's still time to make it happen."

"I don't wanna run away, silly! I... I want to marry him. I am just, you know, slightly anxious."

"Yeah, slightly." He scoffed. "It's okay, you have the right to be anxious. Let's go, shall we?"

You almost couldn't hear the music playing as you started walking down the aisle. Every one was looking at you and it made you feel...weird ? Darren, at the other end of the path, was smiling at you. He strongly believed in you being his soulmate. After all, all his tattoo said was "hello", and he'd been confused his whole life at the amount of people speaking that word around him. You tried to smile back, of course, even though it felt slightly off. No one was looking at you weird, though, so it must've been just a feeling. Steve finally left you next to Darren.

"Dear guests, friends and family, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union in marriage of Darren Garrett Ward and y/n y/l/n."

Wanda, your sister and bridesmaid, gave you a reassuring look. She knew about the tattoo as well, even though she always thought of it as an old-dated superstition who tricked people into believing there was only one person right for them in the universe. That couldn't be true in her opinion, since she was blissfully in love with an android, who – technically speaking – had no skin to put a tattoo on. Her views on this had played a great role into making you feel better about lying to Darren.

"I, Darren Garrett Ward, take you, y/n y/l/n, to be my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

Okay, your turn now. You had this. With a smile on your face, you proceeded.

"I, y/n y/l/n, take you, Darren Garett Ward, to be my husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. Sir, you may kiss the bride."

As Darren leaned in to kiss you, the whole crowd cheered and threw flower petals at you. That was the moment you finally felt filled with joy. The sun was shining above your head and everyone was perfectly happy for a moment. The kiss ended and Darren took your hand to take you a little farther in the beautiful garden, where all the tables had been installed for the party. Seated at the biggest table, you felt good, even with all those pair of eyes over you. You were married to the man you'd loved for three years, and nothing could ruin this perfect night. Steve finally joined you after speaking of the last details with the band he'd hired.

"Mrs y/l-Ward, I believe I haven't properly introduced you to my friend here..."

Unfortunately for the friend ini question, that was the moment a kid chose to hit him with a football, causing him to spill coffee all over your chest.

"F*ck, that's hot!" you exclaimed after getting up as a reflex.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said instantly, with a somewhat grumpy voice because of the slight humiliation.

The two of you immediately shot looks at each other, at loss for words. Steve, who'd heard the exchange, couldn't believe his eyes. He'd always thought that his friend's "f*ck, that's hot" tattoo meant...well, something else. In an effort to seem unsuspicious, he finished introducing his friend.

"Bucky, meet y/n. I..."

"Steve, you'll finish the presentations later," Darren interrupted. "Y/n needs to change. Can you take care of that ?"

In an another scenario, you would've preferred Darren to offer his own help but there and then, you jumped on the occasion as Steve seized your hand and strode away from the scene. You were – undoubtedly – in total disbelief and when Steve handed you your evening dress, you had no idea what was going on anymore.

"What do I do now ?"

--- yes, i am back! I rarely post on this media, but I hope my story can make some people smile or just spend ten minutes away from their problems! Feel free to give me feedback

[spencereliotwinchester]

Red Stud (Part 1/3)

Title: Red Stud

Author:  Kat

Reader Gender:  N/A

Word Count: 8700

Summary: A look at how Jensen met Misha and began their journey. Partner to Submissive but can be read by itself. 

Warnings: AU, Sub!Jensen, Dom!Misha, Humiliation!Kink, 

A/N:  Seriously, not for the faint of heart. No hate. Inspiration belongs to @impala-dreamer

Thank you to @deansbxtch for being my beta

Character: Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins

--

Tags: 

@dr-dean @drarina1737 @zombitch-cas @teamfreewill92 @winecatsandpizza @bees0are0awesome @sierra-grace1227 @chenshemesh1 @weepinghollywoodatsupernatural @im-in-every-fandom-fangirl @rosescarlett @pandazombie69

--

“What are you doing this weekend, Jensen?” Jared asked as they walked to their ten a.m. biology class. 

“Nothing. Maybe doing that ‘American Ideals’ paper for the capstone class,” Jensen responded, heaving his backpack into a more comfortable position. “Why did we take half our classes on Friday?” 

“To have Mondays and Tuesdays off,” Jared laughed. “Anyway, there’s a rave happening at this club I know of. Wanna go?” 

“A rave? Like, an actual rave, not a house party?” 

“Yeah! They have strippers until Midnight, then it turns into a Rave. It goes until the morning I’ve heard. They also have some BDSM rooms, supposedly, but you have to be a member to go in there.”

“What’s the cover?” Jensen asked. 

“Fifty,” Jared said. 

“That’s cheap for Vegas.”

“That’s the whole point! Anyway, what do you think?” 

“As long as you don’t kidnap me into a BDSM room, I’m fine,” Jensen joked. 

“Ugh,” Jensen groaned. The taste in his mouth made his stomach turn over. It was like something had crawled in there and died. He sat up, careful to extract himself from the unknown man in his bed. His ass still had a dull throb from the previous night. 

Slowly getting out of his bed, careful not to wake up his partner from last night, Jensen made his way to the bathroom of the apartment he shared with Jared. He could hear the sounds of throwing up from inside. 

“Jare, I’m coming in to brush my teeth!” He hollered, opening the door. 

Jared wasn’t the one in the bathroom. A brunette was heaving over the toilet. 

“Oh, shit, sorry!” He said. She looked over at him. 

“You’re naked,” She stated. 

“Sorry,” he said again, and shut the door. 

The door to the apartment opened and Jared came down the hall with a drink holder of coffee. He handed one coffee to Jensen, who took it with a word of thanks and took a drink. 

“Still throwing up?” He asked, nodding to the bathroom. 

“Uh, yeah,” Jensen responded. “I’m gonna go put on pants.” 

As he pulled on a pair of soft sweatpants, the man still in Jensen’s bed stretched and then sat up. Jensen handed him his coffee. The man took a deep drink and handed it back. 

“Thanks,” he said, getting up and stretching again. “What a party, eh?”

“Wild,” Jensen agreed. The man’s deep voice and electric blue eyes brought a memory of last night to Jensen’s mind. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard. I’ll bet that’s all you want, filthy slut!”

“Yes, Sir! Please fuck me!”

“Oh, fuck, it’s nearly three!” 

He stood up and quickly dressed, gathering the pieces of clothing that had been tossed into various parts of the room. 

“Got any cologne I can borrow?” He asked. 

“Yeah, on the dresser,” Jensen responded, watching the man get dressed. When the man came up to him, Jensen realized he was nearly as tall as he was, with dark, disheveled hair, and those electric blue eyes that made Jensen feel as though he could see right through him. 

“Thanks for last night,” He whispered, Jensen smirked and they kissed.

“See ya around,” Jensen said when they broke apart, though he knew he wouldn’t. 

“That party was insane,” Jared said as they sat down on the couch in the small living room. 

“I don’t remember much,” Jensen grunted.

“You’ll get some pieces back like usual.” 

“Did we… Take anything?” He asked. 

“Besides a shit load of alcohol? I don’t think so,” Jared responded absently, scrolling on his phone. “Why?” 

“Just wondering.”

“We gotta do that again,” Jared sighed, happily. 

“I won’t,” a female voice said. The girl had come around the corner, purse in her hand. “Sorry for spewing my guts out.” 

“You okay?” Jared asked. 

“Yeah. I’m gonna go,” She turned to Jensen. “You should get on a pole more often.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You don’t remember?” She asked, then continued. “You got up on stage and swung yourself around the pole like you’d been doing it for years.” 

“I did what?” He asked, incredulous. Jared snickered. 

“It was pretty awesome,” Jared muttered.

“Shut the hell up!”

A few days later, he got a text from an unknown number. He was studying in the library. 

I can’t stop thinking about you stretched around my cock, those green eyes rolling up into your head.

He looked around, worried, but no one was nearby. 

Who is this? 

It could be any of his one night stands from the last few weeks.

I’m offended, we had such a good time the other night! - Sir M

It must be that blue eyed man he met at Frenzy. What did he say his name was? It had been something strange. Another message came through. 

You were such a good slut for me. I’d love to have you for myself. - Sir M

Jensen blushed to himself. He didn’t usually sleep with the same person twice. He thought briefly about making an exception. It had been an amazing night. Most of the pieces of the night had come back. The blue eyed stranger had dominated over him, easily taking complete control of their time together. Jensen had thoroughly enjoyed it. As the memories floated to the forefront of his mind, Jensen could feel that his cock was hardening. Another message. 

I’ll bet you’re so hot and bothered right now, thinking about the way I owned you. - Sir M

Jensen finally texted back.

Yes, Sir.  

It became tradition, each month Jensen and Jared would go to a Rave night at Frenzy. They would stay until the place shut down at 5 a.m. and then crash until late afternoon. Sometimes they brought dates home, sometimes not. Sir M and Jensen continued to message each other. Sir M could be very domineering, even over a simple text and it sent thrills of excitement through Jensen’s body.

About a week after his one night stand with Sir M, Jensen walked into the studio shyly, it was his first time here. He’d been curious about pole dancing ever since that girl had told him how well he’d done. 

“Shoes off please!” The teacher, Jaz, behind the desk said sharply. “No outside shoes on the studio floor. Please sign this waiver and set your yoga mat down next to one of the poles.” 

Jensen ended up loving pole dancing, going to class three times a week in between his college classes and working a part time job. One day after class, about six months later, Jaz called his name as he was walking out the door. 

“Yeah?” He said, walking over to her, his bag slung over his shoulder and a yoga mat in his hands. 

“You’re still pretty new, but I know you like to go to Frenzy every so often. They get a lot of their talent from this studio and they’re holding closed auditions for a new male act. I was wondering if you wanted to audition? You’re one of my only male students and I think I have just the song for you.” 

Jensen stood there for a moment, his mouth hanging open. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” He said eventually, “I mainly do this for fun-”

“Strippers there, especially males, make upwards of $500 a night.” 

That was more than Jensen was making now, way more. He thought for a few moments, then relented. 

“Let me know what to do.” 

Three Saturdays in a row, he practiced one on one for three hours with Jaz. On the fourth Saturday, they ran through the entire routine twice. Jensen was sore, tired, and out of breath. 

“You’re ready,” Jaz said excitedly. “I think you’ll take the job easy.” 

“You… Sure?” Jensen said between gulps of air. 

“I’m damn sure. You’ll knock ‘em dead this afternoon!” She gave Jensen a quick hug and began to ready the studio for her next class. “Make sure you drink plenty of water-”

“And eat plenty of protein,” Jensen finished, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “I know.” 

That afternoon, Jensen arrived outside Frenzy at 1:30. Auditions started at 2. He showed his paperwork to the bouncer at the door and was let in. The place was a little unnerving when it was mostly empty and the lights were all on. He made his way towards the Rave Hall and saw a check-in table. He walked up to the two women. One looked up as he approached.

“Here for an interview for the bouncer positions?” She asked. 

“Uh.. no,” he said, caught slightly off guard. “I have an audition for pole dancing.” 

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Sorry! Um, name?” 

“Ackles,” He said. 

“Got it. Locker rooms are that way,” She pointed. “Follow the signs. They’re still doing female auditions, so they may be running slightly late. Do you have a song?” 

“Yeah,” he handed over a CD with his name and audition number on it, then made his way to the locker rooms. 

As he got dressed, his nerves started to send butterflies to his stomach. He pulled on a pair of tight black cycling shorts and a plain black t-shirt. He had decided to go barefoot for this audition. From the information he had received, there would be a panel of judges and they would ask him a few questions before he danced. Jensen noticed as he waited for his name to be called that most people were doing slow and sensual songs, sometimes even emo. This made him slightly more nervous since Jaz had chosen a fast song for him. 

“Next up is Ackles! Ackles to the stage!” 

Jensen took a deep breath and then stepped out of the curtain onto the stage. He stood next to the pole and blanched slightly. It seemed like most of the auditioners were staying in the room after they’d auditioned to see the rest of the performers. Jensen only saw three other men in the audience. Then he looked at the panel of judges. Two men and a woman sat there. 

The man in the middle had electric blue eyes. Electric blue eyes that made Jensen feel as though he could see right through him. Electric blue eyes that Jensen recognized. Sir M. It knocked the breath clean out of him. 

“You used your real name?” The bearded man asked, rolling his eyes. “What’s your stage name?” 

“I..I don’t have one,” Jensen stuttered, shrugging. 

“Oh boy,” he said in annoyance. “Any tattoo-”

“Red Stud,” the blue eyed man interrupted. 

“What?” the bearded man snapped. “Collins, are you in-”

“No, I’m just giving him a stage name. Red hair and just look at those muscles! Yummy.” 

“Red Stud, I guess it works,” The man turned back to Jensen. “Tattoos?” 

“N-No,” Jensen sputtered, he started to think this had been a mistake. He grabbed the pole, noticing it was on spin. He could do the routine either way, but doing it on spin was harder. 

“Why do you want this job?” The woman asked, speaking for the first time. 

“I love to dance,” Jensen said smoothly, he was aware his voice had become more even and slightly huskier. “I can dance, and I want to make money doing what I love.” 

“Well, I think we’d love to see!” Sir M clapped his hands together. “Go on.”  

I saw him dancin' there by the record machine

I knew he must a been about seventeen

The beat was goin' strong

Playin' my favorite song

And I could tell it wouldn't be long

'Til he was with me, yeah, me

And I could tell it wouldn't be long

'Til he was with me, yeah, me, singin'

As soon as the music started,  Jensen felt right at home. As if he were back in the studio practicing with Jaz. The loud guitar strums and drum set blasted through the speakers and Jensen opened “I Love Rock N’ Roll” by flexing his biceps, rolling his hips, and showing off his muscles, visible even under the t-shirt, to the various parts of the room. People started clapping along with the beat. When the lyrics started, he climbed the pole to the top, stopping at the end of each line to do various hangs to show off his strength, flowing with the hard rock. 

I love rock n' roll

So put another dime in the jukebox, baby

I love rock n' roll

So come and take your time and dance with me

Ow

Once he reached the top of the pole, the chorus started and Jensen folded over and around the pole, holding an attitude position before quickly hip-switching to a sundial. He pulled up and inverted into a Fang, spinning quickly with the music before doing a cartwheel dismount. 

He smiled, so I got up and asked for his name

"That don't matter", he said, "'cause it's all the same"

I said, "Can I take you home where we can be alone?"

And next we were movin' on

He was with me, yeah, me

Next we were movin' on

He was with me, yeah, me singin'

He pole walked once, before unveiling his next climb. Jaz had spent the majority of their first session teaching him this complex no legs, hand-over-hand climb until Jensen could do it perfectly without falling. Jensen was surprised to hear cheers. He climbed, doing a pull up at the end of each line of music until he was at the top of the pole again. He quickly maneuvered into a cross-legged sit so his arms were free.

I love rock n' roll

So put another dime in the jukebox, baby

I love rock n' roll

So come and take your time and dance with me

Ow

Jensen tore his shirt in half splitting it down his chest, then took it off and flung it at the blue eyed judge. He then inverted into a crucifix and nose dived down the pole. Jensen gracefully dismounted as the music faded. He took a bow to the cheering audience before turning his attention towards the judges. Jensen became all too aware of the sheen of sweat covering his face and chest and felt his cheeks reddening - it had nothing to do with the workout he’d just done and everything to do with Sir M staring at him. 

“I...I thought Jaz said you were new to pole dancing,” the woman said in awe. 

“I mean, I’ve only been pole dancing for about six months,” Jensen responded, shrugging. “Should I go?” 

“Can you dance like that tonight?” Sir M asked, his voice deep and vibrating. 

“I- What?” 

“Can. You. Dance. Like that. Tonight?” He asked again, more slowly, like Jensen was hard of hearing. 

“I’d need a new black t-shirt… but yeah, I can,” Jensen felt even more blood rushing to his face. 

“Then the job is yours. You’re on at midnight,” the bearded man said. “Be here no later than 11.”

As he was walking out, he heard his name called. Turning, he was shocked to see Jared. 

“Since when do you dance?” 

“Six months or so,” Jensen said, looking away from Jared. 

“Dude, you’re insanely good!”

“Uh...Thanks. Why are you here?” 

“Got hired as a bouncer!” He said excitedly. 

“Dude, that’s awesome!” Jensen exclaimed. “I gotta go call Jazzy and tell her I got the dance slot and then get ready for tonight.” 

“I’ll see you tonight! It’s my first night too.” 

Jensen was able to meet most of the other dancers that night in the locker room. It turned out that there were only three other male dancers, so everyone shared one locker room. A girl came up to Jensen. She was dressed in a red thong and red corset. She had blonde hair that was curled in large spirals. He recognized her as the female judge from earlier. 

“Hi, Red,” She said, smacking some gum and winking at him. 

“Hey,” He nodded. 

“Come on, I’m gonna show you the ropes and rules. I’m Cherie by the way. So, tonight. They’re just going to have you open the Rave with your routine, but people will still throw tips at you. Each of us also has a jar at the bar where people can place tips, too. Don’t forget to empty it before you leave for the night. If you have any problems with patrons on the floor, grab one of the bouncers. After a couple weeks, you might do some dancing for tips, or they might have you out on the floor to do lap dances and such. I dunno, Mish will let you know.” 

“‘Mish?’” Jensen asked. 

“Misha Collins?” She looked at him incredulously. “Big blue eyes, stubbled jaw, orgasm inducing voice?” 

“Oh, him.” 

“Yeah, him. Let's get some makeup on you.”

Jensen fidgeted as midnight approached. His butterflies were even bigger now and he worried he’d mess up the entire routine. As the acts neared his, the music got faster. Cherie was just before him in the lineup, her song started, ‘Cherry Pie’ by Warrant. Jensen warmed his body and put grip aid on his hands. Cherie came through the curtain. She had removed the corset during her act and was down to her red thong and pasties. 

“Good luck, Red,” She winked at him. 

He swallowed hard and entered the stage through the curtain. A few whistles met him. 

“Please welcome to the stage, our newest dancer. His debut performance right here, right now! RED STUD!” the emcee announced. 

‘I Love Rock N’ Roll’ started and Jensen began his routine. He only slipped once and it was barely noticeable. Cheers and applause met him and he bowed. Then, he quickly picked up the cash tips that had been tossed onstage and exited. He’d made nearly $250 from tips he’d picked up off the stage.

Jensen made his way to the bar after he put on another black shirt from his locker. The lights shut off completely and black light turned on. Glow sticks lit up the room. A thumping bass beat blared through the speaker. Jensen sat down at the bar in an open seat and waited for the bartender to see him. The bartender came over to him. 

“What can I get ya?” He yelled over the thick bass beat. 

“Shot of whiskey!” He yelled back. As he went to hand over a ten, a hand caught him. Jensen turned to see Misha standing right next to him. He was wearing a red t-shirt that was a size too small and stretched dangerously over his shoulders. Up close, Jensen was able to see just how handsome the man- Misha- really was. 

“On the house!” He yelled to the bartender. “And make it two!” 

Jensen and Misha tapped glasses and took the shots together. After four more shots each, Jensen was feeling much more free and relaxed. Misha tapped his hand against his shoulder. 

“Come with me!” He yelled. 

Misha dragged Jensen into the Rave and they began to dance together. After the second song they were both drenched in sweat and the alcohol was really hitting Jensen’s head. He hadn’t eaten anything in a few hours. Misha raised his hand to his mouth and swallowed. Then raised his hand to his mouth again. This time he grabbed Jensen’s face and began kissing him. Jensen opened his mouth in surprise and Misha shoved his tongue in and Jensen felt a small pill. Guessing what it was, he swallowed and continued to make out with Misha. 

Within ten minutes, the drug was taking effect. Jensen began to feel remarkably loose, happy and floaty. Misha was grinding against his ass and Jensen didn’t mind one bit. The music thrummed heavily through his head, his heart speeding up to match the rapid music. The bass beat dropped and Misha was reaching around palming Jensen’s half hard cock through the shorts he was wearing. His moan was lost in the music as he leaned back into Misha’s solid body. 

Then, Misha was pulling him along, through the waves of people. They reached a door on the other side and Misha pushed him through it. They were in a back hallway and Misha pushed Jensen into another room. The lights flicked on. Noise was completely silenced when the door closed but Jensen’s head pounded with the remnants of the bass line. 

“Should we be in here?” Jensen asked, eyes widening as he took in the sight of the room. It was a smaller room, but it was beautiful and dangerous. The walls were red, the carpet was plush and black. A few sex toys were scattered around and Jensen could only imagine what was in the armoire at the other side of the room. There was also a double bed in the corner behind the door. 

“It’s my private room,” Misha said. 

“A private room?” 

Misha came up behind him and began kissing and nipping at his neck. Misha grabbed the hem of Jensen’s shirt and dragged it over his head before going back to kissing his neck. Jensen moaned lightly. 

“Owning the place does have its perks,” Misha growled, his voice low and lust-filled. 

Jensen turned to face Misha and pulled the other man’s shirt off. Misha pulled Jensen over to the bed and pushed him down on it. As Misha kicked his jeans off and leaned down on top of Jensen, something clicked into place. 

“Are you a Dom?” Jensen asked. 

“You could most certainly say that,” Misha laughed. 

“I’ve never really… Except that night with you and I don’t remember everything.” 

“Well, it’s up to you, but I promise I’ll make it worth it if you stay, Boy,” the voice slipped down a few notes and Misha reached a hand into Jensen’s hair and pulled lightly. A rush of pleasure flowed through his body. Jensen moaned. “What are your limits?” 

“Nothing too crazy, I’m, uh, pretty vanilla you could say.” 

“Vanilla it is, but next time we do things my way,” Misha smirked before kissing Jensen again. Blood rushed to his face and his cock, making his brain spin. He laughed into Misha’s mouth, the feeling of euphoria enveloping him again. 

--

As Jensen began to swim into consciousness, he squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. His head was pounding, his muscles ached, his ass hurt, and his mouth was as dry as the deserts surrounding Las Vegas. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around the room. He had no idea where he was. The room was lit softly through thick curtains. The walls were a cool grey and matched the bedding. An unopened water bottle was sitting on the nightstand and Jensen grabbed it, cracking it open and taking a deep drink. 

“I was thinking I was going to have to come wake you up. It’s nearly five,” Misha’s voice startled Jensen, and he looked around to see Misha standing in the doorway. 

“I’d have been up at three if you hadn’t slipped me Ecstasy,” Jensen grumbled. “Where are my clothes?” 

Misha walked over to the closet and stepped inside. He threw a shirt and a pair of jeans on the bed. 

“You only had on those pole shorts when we came home,” Misha answered. “Take those. They should fit okay.” 

Jensen got out of bed and stumbled sideways. Misha caught him. He became suddenly dizzy and shut his eyes trying to clear the feeling before it made him hurl. 

“You okay?” Misha asked. 

“Just a bit dizzy… Stood up too fast,” Jensen grunted. He slowly put weight back on his legs and got dressed in Misha’s clothes. They smelled like leather and cologne. An image of Misha pushing his cock into Jensen’s mouth came to mind. 

“We should get some food in you,” Misha said. “Do you want to have dinner with me?” 

“Sure,” Jensen said, his stomach snarling at the thought. 

--

“Everything okay?” Misha asked. 

“When you said ‘have dinner’ I thought you meant a dive bar or a diner or something…”

“Oh no, Sweetness, when I dine, I dine in style.” 

“I’m not really appropriate-” Misha cut him off. 

“Nonsense. Come on.” 

The maitre’d greeted Misha by name and led them all the way to the back of the restaurant to a private booth. A waitress dropped off water, smiling at them before gliding away to the kitchen. Jensen fiddled with the menu, slightly uncomfortable. 

“What’s wrong?” Misha asked in his low, gravelly voice. 

“Just nervous,” Jensen mumbled. 

“Listen, about last night-” It was Jensen’s turn to cut off Misha. 

“I don’t regret anything.”

“Well… Good, then,” Misha said. “Are you good to go on tonight?” 

“Of course,” Jensen waved a hand at Misha.

The waitress arrived with an appetizer. 

“The usual, Sir?” She asked Misha. He nodded, then the waitress turned to Jensen, but Misha interjected. 

“Let me order for you.” It wasn’t a question. 

Jensen, shocked, nodded at him jerkily. Misha whispered into the waitresses ear and she gave him a nod before vanishing again. He turned back to Jensen, and put a hand on his scruffy face. Jensen suddenly had butterflies in his stomach again. 

“So what are you into?” Jensen blurted out the question. 

“Huh?” 

“You know, like you have a private room at Frenzy- Hell, you OWN Frenzy. You’re a Dom, you asked my limits…” Jensen trailed off. 

“I’m into things you couldn’t even dream of,” He said, darkly. Jensen shivered. It was strange, the way Misha could make him feel both scared and aroused at the same time. “But for the most part I’m into Dom/sub.”

“Like, whips and chains and ‘Master’?” Misha chuckled at the look on Jensen’s face.

“I’m more into the relationship, the power exchange, not the punishments, and I prefer to be called ‘Sir,’” He responded. “You know nothing of BDSM if you’ve just watched porn.” 

Misha began explaining the mechanics and the true BDSM scene. Jensen became much more interested, and aroused, as Misha explained the true relationship between Dominants and their submissives. He never figured this sort of scene would be up his alley, but the way Misha had made Jensen beg for release last night… 

“You’ve barely touched your food,” Misha stated. “Eat.”

Jensen did so. Misha smirked at him, his eyes were filled with lust and approval. 

“What?” He asked. 

“You absentmindedly enjoy being told what to do. I just had a very intriguing thought,” Misha said in a hushed voice. 

“What?” Jensen was even more confused. 

“Let me introduce you to being submissive. I think we’d be a good match. We like each other and damn you’re just yummy. I can’t get enough of you.” 

Jensen looked down at his mostly empty plate, his mind was hesitant, but his cock was thoroughly interested in the idea of having sex with Misha again. 

“Try it,” Misha pressed. “If you don’t like it, no harm no foul… But I think you’ll fall in love with it.” 

“Fine,” Jensen relented, telling himself he could try something new. “We should get going. I need to go home and shower. I also need to work out a little. I missed my afternoon class today.” 

“Want a ride home?” Misha asked. 

“That would be welcome,” Jensen whispered.

Jensen finally got back to Frenzy at ten pm. He opened his locker and saw a jar of tips. The jar from the bar. Jensen groaned, knowing he would probably be in trouble with the bartender for forgetting to pick them up. He then pulled his phone out of his locker to check it. He had a message from Sir M. 

I need you to open and close the dance acts next weekend. Open with a slow, sensual song for me? Then close with your regular routine. Next week you work Wednesday thru Sunday. W & Th & Sun 7p - 3a.m. Fr & Sat 7pm - 12:15 am, then you’ll join me in the Member’s Club -Sir M

He immediately texted Jazzy to find out if she could help him with a new routine. 

We can practice this week, I’ve got a good one for you. I’m here btw! To see you perform. 

That week was one of the hardest of his life. He even skipped a few classes at the college trying to get some rest between the club, school, practicing a completely new song, and texting Misha. He barely even saw Jared except at Frenzy. 

Friday evening came and Jensen was a ball of wrecked nerves. He was exhausted, but got a jolt of excitement at the thought of performing a slow song just for Misha. The emcee was beginning to announce the acts and Jensen’s whole body buzzed with nervous excitement. 

“Let’s open up with Red Stud!” The emcee yelled. 

Jensen took the stage and a few whistles broke out above the chattering crowd. He sat down in front of the pole, back pressed against it and nodded toward the emcee. “You’re the Best” by Wet played through the speakers as Jensen began to go through the choreography Jazzy taught him. It was slow and sensual, just what Misha had asked for. Most of the choreo had him on the floor, using the pole as just a prop, instead of being on it the entire time. He ended the song on the floor, in a shoulder mount with his legs split. People clapped, cheered, and whistled. Jensen collected the money on the stage and went back to the locker room, to rest and get ready for the closing act. 

After the closing act, Jensen got a t-shirt on and went out into the now Rave Room. As he approached the bar, he saw Misha talking to a few patrons. One girl was draped over his shoulder and a hotness spread through Jensen’s body. Jealousy. They had never said they’d be exclusive, Jensen reasoned, but he still wanted to toss the girl into what was now becoming a mosh pit. 

He grabbed a couple shots from the bartender, downing one right after the other. His eyes were trained on Misha at the other end of the bar, the jealousy burning through his veins, just like the whiskey he’d shot down. He finally shoved himself from the bar, deciding he could play the same game. He disappeared into the rave to find a partner for the evening. 

As he was grinding with a stranger, he felt a hand fist the back of his shirt and yanked him back. Jensen was shocked, he looked around and saw Misha was the one who had his shirt. He was surprised at the roughness and then saw the look on Misha’s face. 

His jaw was clenched and eyes were narrowed in anger. There was fury written into his face. He caught Misha’s eye for just a moment and saw only rage in the flashing blue. Misha shoved him through the same door as last weekend and into his private room. 

“Think you’re funny?!” Misha spat as all other sound was drowned out. Jensen opened his mouth but a single flash of Misha’s eyes and his voice died in his throat. “Grinding on some stranger right in front of ME? You’re mine!” 

Something strange happened at Misha’s words. He was slightly scared, very much confused and then a shooting feeling of arousal coiled through his belly. Jensen found his voice. 

“You had women all over you at the bar! We never said we were exclusive,” He strained his voice to keep it level. 

“I wasn’t the one out on the dance floor practically having sex!” 

“You were last weekend!” Jensen cried, aware that his words were making less sense. 

“You’re MINE, Boy!” Misha barked. The arousal came back, harder and stronger than before. 

“Promise?” Jensen breathed. 

Anger melted from Misha’s face. He looked confused, then a grin broke across his face. 

“What?” Jensen snapped, but the anger was melting completely and being taken over by desire. 

“You liked it.” 

“Liked what?” 

“Being called names. When I called you ‘boy’ I saw your cock jump in those tight shorts. You like being humiliated,” Misha looked at him fondly. “I’ll tuck away that information for later.”

They ended the night a lot happier than it had started, the fight completely forgotten, like the clothes all over the floor. 

--

Jensen was sitting at Misha’s kitchen table. A laptop, books, notebooks and folders were spread out around him. Jensen had his forehead pressed to the cool wood. He’d spent the better part of three hours trying to write a paper for his english class. What does each room color symbolize in Mask of the Red Death? Discuss. Jensen then thought of the two ten-page papers due at the end of the semester. A Topic of Your Choosing Using Compare and Contrasting Methods and How are American Ideals Still Relevant in Today’s Day and Age? 

He groaned and lifted his head up. He found Misha standing against the counter to his right. Misha was wearing a suit, crisply ironed, with a khaki top coat over it. From the looks of it, Jensen figured it was probably cashmere. 

“Looks like a tornado came through,” He indicated the mess on the table. 

“More like a typhoon. I’m drowning in this.” 

“I wanted to talk to you about some things, but it can wait if you’re too busy.”

“Please, I could use a break from this.” 

“Now that we’re going to delve into this relationship, I want to lay out a couple rules for you to follow,” Misha sat down at the table and looked at Jensen seriously. Jensen nodded. “Number One, you call me ‘Sir.’ Number Two, you don’t cum unless I say so. Number Three, do not lie to me, EVER. And Number Four, is this.”

He took a small, leather-bound book from the inside of his topcoat and set it in front of Jensen. Upon further inspection, it was a journal with lined pages. Jensen cocked an eyebrow at Misha. 

“I want you to keep a journal. At least one page per day, more if you feel like it. On the first page,” Misha flipped the book open, “I’ve written some prompts I’d like you to start off writing about, so we can hone and mold our relationship together.” 

“So, I’m drowning in homework… And you give me more?” Jensen said, indicating the haphazard papers that littered the table. 

“I guess so, yeah. Got a problem with that, Boy?” Misha’s voice dipped into a commanding voice. 

“No,” Jensen responded. 

“No, what?” Misha’s voice dripped with venom.

“Uh, no, Sir,” Jensen looked down at the table. 

“Failure to follow my rules will result in punishment, and trust me, punishment does not equal pleasure.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Jensen said, nodding his understanding. 

“That’s my good slut,” Misha said, patting his hair. Misha and Jensen had found out fairly quickly that the pet name turned Jensen on to no end and Jensen felt a swell of happiness each time Misha used it. “I have a meeting. Be good.” 

As Misha left, Jensen looked at the table. He rolled his eyes in frustration and grabbed the journal. Opening it to the first page, he saw Misha’s handwriting. It was slanted, neat, almost calligraphy

What are your likes and dislikes in the bedroom? Discuss. 

How are you currently feeling about our relationship? Write this subject weekly

What do you want from a sexual partner?

What do you need from a sexual partner?

There was a hard line penned into the page

Only Jensen may write, unless he gives permission for me to respond. 

This is Jensen’s safe space to write what he needs.

Jensen will never be judged for what is written. 

Jensen looked between the journal and the three college papers he was working on. He groaned and pulled the laptop towards himself, deciding to write a little more about Mask of the Red Death before trying to fill out his journal. 

The first room is blue, which symbolizes Poe’s own depression…

“You know, maybe he just liked the color blue!” Jensen yelled at the empty house. He tossed The Works of Edgar Allan Poe across the kitchen. 

I’m honestly not sure how I feel about the relationship with Sir. I’ve barely met him but I feel like I’ve known him for a long time. I’m nervous and scared, but also aroused…

Jensen felt extremely weird writing in the journal at first, but once he got the first few sentences out, a bunch more were written. He ended up with three pages. By the time Jensen finished his journal as well as the Poe paper, it was nearing 5 pm. Jensen stood and stretched. It was Monday, so he didn’t have work and he didn’t have class: college or pole. 

He felt like he hadn’t seen Jared in forever. At least, the last time he saw Jared outside of work or school. They never really had time to talk while busy studying and working. Jensen texted Jared. 

Where are you?

Video Games was the response. 

Jensen was getting ready to head over to his apartment when a thought struck him. He quickly texted Misha.

I’m going over to the apartment to hang with Jared. 

Home by 2am came only a few seconds later. Jensen set an alarm on his phone to go off at 1. 

Jensen had only been by the apartment a couple times in the last two weeks and that was only to grab some clothes, his toothbrush, and school things. Jared hadn’t been home. He was splayed across the couch, playing COD. Jensen grabbed a controller and joined the game. As they played, he couldn’t help but feel a sort of tension between them. After about half an hour, Jared shut the game off. 

“Drink?” Jared asked stiffly. 

“I’m gonna drive back to Misha’s later,” Jensen said. “Is something up?” 

Jared finished his own beer and grabbed another one from the fridge. He scoffed. 

“What?” Jensen pressed. 

“You know, dude,” said Jared, turning to him. “I don’t even know what to say. You get this job at Frenzy, end up in the back room WITH THE OWNER, and then disappear for three weeks. What the fuck, Man?” 

“It’s not like that-” Jensen started before Jared cut him off. 

“That’s how it looks from my angle! You’ve never been that kind of whore! Tell me, is it true? Are you Collins’ new bitch? I have never known you to sleep with a partner more than once, but now that it’s some rich dude...” 

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Jensen tried to explain, but he realized Jared must have been drinking most of the day; he wasn’t usually this hurtful. “What?” Jensen was taken aback as he comprehended the last sentence. 

“That’s what I heard. That’s what everyone at Frenzy is talking about. You hopping in bed with the owner. Man, I knew you liked to sleep around but this...” 

“Jared, I’m sorry, dude. Let me explai-”

“Explain what? Just answer the question, Jensen!” Jared yelled. 

“We’re in a relationsh-” Jensen started to yell. 

“It’s been three weeks and you’re basically moved in with him! Do you know how worried I’ve been? I would’ve called the cops if I hadn’t seen you at Frenzy!” 

“I’m fine, Jared! What? Can’t bear me actually being happy?!” 

“You’re a goddamn idiot! You have no idea what this guy’s intentions are! Sure, we’ve all done one night stands, but this… This is a whole new level, even for you,” Jared had gotten right into Jensen’s face. Jensen didn’t back down. The hurt was pumping through his body and he stabbed Jared right where it hurt. 

“You’re the one who almost killed yourself over Gen leaving you!” Jensen shoved Jared hard. He didn’t react fast enough to the fist that connected to the side of his head. 

“Get. The fuck. Out,” Jared snarled. 

Jensen had to sit in his car for fifteen minutes before the dizziness finally passed enough for him to drive to Misha’s...To home. When he pulled into the driveway, he could see the lamp on in Misha’s bedroom. He felt relief at the sight, not wanting to be alone after his fight with Jared. He let himself in the house and went down the hall to Misha’s room. He hesitated for a few seconds before knocking on the door. 

“Enter,” Came a distracted response. 

Misha was propped against the headboard, wearing only his boxers. He was reading Things Fall Apart by an author whose name Jensen couldn’t begin to pronounce. He felt that, in a way. That his life was falling apart around him. The room began to blur and shift and Jensen clenched his hands at his side. It had been a long time since something like this had happened. His head began to buzz loudly, like angry bees. 

“Jensen?” 

The room began to come back into focus, but then thoughts of the night and the last month of his life overwhelmed him and the room spun wildly, his heart raced, and tears fell from his eyes. Misha was at his side, steadying him. 

“I need. My medicine,” Jensen was almost hyperventilating. “In my bag.”

Jensen curled up on the floor, holding himself until Misha came back with a prescription bottle. He popped it open and handed Jensen one pill. When shaking hands, Jensen put the pill into his mouth and swallowed. It would take about ten minutes for the effect to settle in and calm him down. With arms stronger than Jensen imagined, Misha scooped him up and set him down in the large bed. 

“Shh, just breathe,” Misha soothed. 

As time passed, Jensen felt his heartbeat begin to slow and his breathing evened out. He became aware of Misha holding him with one arm, the other carding through his hair. The feeling was soothing, comforting. When he felt he could, Jensen sat up and faced Misha. 

“Panic attack?” 

Jensen nodded. 

“That may have been something you should have told me about.” 

“I haven’t had one for two years,” Jensen whispered. 

“Did it have something to do with the bruise that’s darkening on your face?” 

“I had a fight with Jared,” He explained. 

“Obviously. What about?” 

“This. Us,” Jensen said, apologetically. “I should go lay down. The medicine makes me insanely tired.”

“Stay. I want to keep my eye on you.”

Jensen hadn’t stayed the night in Misha’s bed since their second night together. Jensen felt a swoop of anxiety, but then Misha brought a hand to his face, and it melted away. He leaned into Misha’s touch. 

After a moment, Misha got out of bed and beckoned Jensen to do the same. He set the book carefully on the nightstand and pulled the covers back. He indicated to Jensen to get into bed, then slid in after him. 

“Why do you have panic attacks?” Misha asked. 

“When I was little, and my Mom and Dad were still together, they fought, like, all the time. Downright screaming matches. Their fighting started causing panic attacks. So, now whenever there’s arguing it can cause an attack.”

“I guess the fight just really affected me. I shouldn’t have said some things,” Jensen sighed deeply. 

“We’ll have to be careful. Everything will be okay,” Misha soothed.

The light clicked off and Misha spooned Jensen, his arm wrapped around his waist comforting him. Jensen pushed himself back into Misha’s chest and within minutes, the exhaustion from the day as well as the medicine pulled him into sleep. 

Jensen woke the next morning, groggy and feeling like his head was too heavy to lift. He was alone in Misha’s bed. Slowly, he sat up. He noticed a small piece of paper on the nightstand on top of the book that Misha had been reading. He grabbed it. 

I will be in my office when you wake, taking care of some work. Eat some eggs and toast and meet me when you’re through. -Sir

Jensen went to the guest room he’d been calling his own. He slipped into the bathroom attached and did his morning routine. He then made his way to the kitchen, wishing he knew where Misha kept the Tylenol. 

As Jensen ate breakfast, he scrolled through his phone lazily. The group chat he was in with the other guys and girls had blown up the previous night. Jensen scrolled through quickly, getting the gist of what had been discussed. He paused, however, when the chat shifted.

Cherie: It’s almost Mish’s Birthday y’all. What are we doing this year? Another showcase? 

Brad: Maybe, he never gets tired of watching us dance. 

Ariel: What if we did a choreographed routine with all of us? We could do it on the weekend of his birthday.

Michelle: Ooo I like that. Unless @Red Stud has a better idea? 

Brad: That’s a good idea. Everyone meet at noon at Frenzy tomorrow. Come with song ideas. 

Cherie: Great idea! See everyone then?

Shit. It was almost eleven now. He quickly finished breakfast and packed a bag. Then he went to Misha’s office. Jensen knocked on the open door. 

“Enter,” Came a reply. 

Misha was sitting behind a large carved desk, looking through a stack of papers. He glanced up at Jensen. 

“Where are you off too?” Misha asked. 

“Uhh,” Jensen hesitated, not knowing if the birthday party was a surprise. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Misha reminded him suddenly, fixing him with a blue-eyed stare that seemed to read his mind. 

“Okay, I’m meeting the other girls and guys at Frenzy-”

“Ah, yes. My birthday,” Misha rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I just wanted to give you this and ask you to fill it out. I’m filling one out, too. We will compare them and make necessary changes before signing.” 

Misha slid a thick packet towards Jensen. He walked to the desk and picked it up. Standard D/s Contract - Misha Collins was the title. Jensen felt his cheeks heat up. 

“Okay,” Jensen said, slipping the contract into his gym bag. 

“Okay what?” Misha snit.

“Sorry. Yes, Sir,” He amended. Jensen walked around the desk, so he was directly next to Misha, who had gone back to his report. He gave Misha a soft kiss on the cheek which he accepted. 

“Tell the girls and boys not to worry too much. I think I’ll be getting exactly what I want for my birthday already,” Misha threw him a quick, dirty look. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Be good, Slut.” 

Jensen closed his eyes for a moment, letting the heat pool in his belly. Then, he left to get to Frenzy. He seemed to be the first one there, surprisingly. He changed, then warmed himself up quickly. He walked out to the stage and placed his phone off to the side, hitting the “Play” Button on the song he wanted. The slow guitar started and Jensen began swaying his body to the music, body rolling on the pole, doing slow spins. 

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am home again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am whole again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am young again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am fun again

“I think Red should do the choreography!” He heard the yell, it startled him and he lost grip on the pole, landing painfully on his elbow. 

“I have no idea how to do choreography,” Jensen said tersely, sitting up and rubbing his aching elbow. He looked around and saw Brad, Cherie, and Michelle, who seemed to be the one who’d yelled. 

“Yes, you do,” Cherie said. “I know you can. Just by watching that performance, I know you can.”

Everyone filtered in and then Cherie called for silence. 

“I think Red should do choreo,” Michelle said again. 

“All in favor?” Cherie asked. Everyone except Jensen yelled ‘Aye!’ 

Jensen groaned. 

“Now, what song should we do? Fast or slow?” 

“Slow,” Jensen said. “I’m a lot better at slow choreo. Jazzy’s the one who usually choreographs for me.” 

It took nearly an hour before they’d settled on a song. Jensen huffed, it wasn’t a very slow song, but he could work with it. 

“Give me a half hour to figure out what we’re doing,” He grumbled, grabbing a pad of paper from behind the bar. 

Jensen played Breathe on Me at least five times, stopping and starting and writing the choreography on the pad. He called Cherie over and went through it with her. That way she could teach group one and he could teach group two. After about two hours, Jensen called it quits for the day. 

After a long shower, Jensen settled down at the kitchen table to do his homework and try to go through the large contract Misha had given him that morning. He’d gotten his english paper done, his journal written in, and was just staring at the front page of the contract when Misha arrived. 

“Slut,” He greeted, flashing a smile his way. 

“Sir,” Jensen nodded at him, a smile spreading across his face. 

“I’ll be in my room. Have fun.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

Jensen, in his limited free time, had been doing a lot of research into proper BDSM etiquette and rules. As Jensen read through the contract, filling in the blanks, he was all too aware of his cock hardening. He palmed himself as he went through the listed kinks and fetishes and circled ones he’d be willing to try. One line of the contract kept playing through his mind.

Above all, the primary duty of this submissive is to please.

Jensen grinned to himself. He had a sudden idea, and it sent warm heat through his body as his heart sped up. He hoped this would work, because if not, he’d be having a hard time following Misha’s rule not to cum without permission. 

He walked down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. The door to Misha’s room was open and Jensen dropped to his knees just outside the threshold. He put his hands on his thighs and bowed his head, closing his eyes. He’d seen this pose on a website as one of the accepted sub poses. He itched to call out, call attention to himself, but he pushed the urge down, stubbornly. Jensen waited. 

A calmness washed over him. His breathing and heartbeat slowed, the thought of pleasing Misha helped him ignore the numbness in his knees. Finally, Jensen heard an intake of breath and the swish of sheets rubbing against pajama pants. Jensen kept still, unmoving. He fought the urge to snap his head up. To meet those blue eyes that could read his mind. 

“How long have you been here?” Jensen couldn’t help the shiver that ran through his body at the soft, loving tone. Misha was right next to him. A hand rested on Jensen’s head. Jensen leaned slightly into the touch before remembering to keep his pose. Words were lost to him. 

“Speak,” Misha’s voice was still soft, but had an authoritative tone that Jensen couldn’t ignore. 

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly. It could have been five minutes or three hours. The time had melted away, had become meaningless. 

“What do you need?” Misha asked. 

“To please you,” spilled from his mouth. 

“Good Slut.” 

A sense of pride swelled inside him and a jolt of arousal coursed through his cock. 

“Crawl in here and take your position,” Misha guided him to an open space in the bedroom. 

When Jensen had resumed his pose, he listened intently, trying to figure out where Misha was and what he was doing. Misha’s hand curled into his hair, lifting his head. Jensen struggled to keep his eyes closed, but his lips parted slightly as his breathing quickened. The soft, velvety head of Misha’s cock brushed lightly against his lips. A shiver went down his spine. Sure, he’d sucked guys off before, even Misha, but never like this. 

“Is this what you want?” Misha asked, his voice low and growly. 

“Yes, Sir,” Jensen whispered. 

PART 2

[ratmonky]

Ciggy Burns Commentary

Commentary you have been waiting for and the one I had forgotten!!!! 

^^; sorry!

This commentary is going to be both serious and silly, either way yeah this is just art and you can interpret it as you want.

warnings for the content: non-con, kidnapping, blackmail, torture, urination (no piss kink lol), humiliation, dacryphilia, knife play, manipulation, violence, mild gore, mind break, captivity

Tumblr Link to Cigarette Burns

AO3 Link to Cigarette Burns

No sane person would continue bullying their victim from back in school but again, Junpei had never been lucky in his life.

Those guys were now battering him without the need to hold back. Since they were all out of school, they didn’t need to be held accountable for anything they did to him. Nobody was going to scold them or call their parents. None of them were children anymore.

Junpei wasn’t weak. He knew he wasn’t but against those guys, he could never win if he tried standing up for himself. Bigger fish ate the smaller fish, it was that easy.

“What happened to you?” his boss asked when he noticed the new bruises on his neck and face.

Unconsciously, Junpei’s hand went to his face. “Oh, it’s nothing, sir.” He calmly brushed it off as nothing but it made him feel at ease somehow that someone took notice of his well-being.

Junpei was used to being invisible and someone caring about his battered face meant him the world even if it was a small bit of worry his boss showed.

“You’ll scare the customers looking like that,” his boss said, clicking his tongue. “Go to the back, someone else will take the cash register.”

Junpei nodded languidly. He had gotten the picture.

Here it was evident that Junpei wasn’t treated like a person by anyone. We’ve all been there, feeling invisible and unwanted but I wanted to lay the base at the start with his battered face being a problem for his boss. His boss didn’t care because why would he? It’s not like Junpei is someone he treasures deeply, he’s just an employee, nothing else.

~~~

“Get up.”

His calm voice loudly echoed in the empty alley. Junpei planted his aching and shaking arms on the concrete floor to push himself up. He wobbled as he got back up on his feet.

They were all laughing, the same guy who had told him to get up gathered all his might and punched Junpei in the face, knocking him off of his feet yet again, Junpei’s lanky body crashed on the concrete.

“He bounces off the ground like a ball!” someone laughed, “It’s so funny, I’ve never thought a human could do that.”

“It’s from the impact,” another one pointed out. “Didn’t you learn about that in school?”

“Argh, man don’t remind me of physics!” he whined. “I’ve seen videos of people jumping from the buildings and they bounce like that when they hit the ground, it’s so crazy dude!! They don’t even start bleeding until like ten seconds later!!”

Junpei groaned in pain but tried to stifle his voice. The tension would fade away soon enough and they would forget about him if they kept going on about their stupid argument. His hand went to his face, it was wet. Slowly, he lifted his hand up to look at the blood dripping from his hand. With a sharp gasp he turned over on the concrete he was laying.

He laid on his back, watching the sky.

This could have been ranked in the top five on one of the worst days of his life, it could take second place, the first one being the day his mother had died.

His vision blurred with tears, he couldn’t move a single muscle anymore.

“Woah, he’s crying!”

“Just like a damn kid, isn’t that pathetic?”

“Wait wait wait, I’ll give him something better to cry about.” Their leader who had been using him as a punching bag walked over to Junpei, he pushed down his tracksuit pants and pissed on Junpei.

They all started laughing louder as Junpei tried squirming but couldn’t even move a finger. He then relented, watching the sky and his assaulter standing on top of him while his clothes were getting soaked in urine. He had worked overtime today but he felt almost too sore. He could feel a weird rush on his body, ah, nevermind, that was probably from this guy pissing on him.

Once the guy was done, he pulled up his pants and they all left.

Junpei didn’t move or rather didn’t bother to move as his nostrils were getting invaded with the ugly stench. It was hitting up to his nose bridge, he tried ignoring it but it was too strong.

By the time he found enough strength to move, he decided to walk back to his place using the dark alleys and the empty streets. The cold night breeze felt like a blizzard thanks to him being soaked in piss, the next day he was definitely going to get sick.

A tremendous wave of rage washed over him. He started to wonder where everything went wrong. Why was he still being humiliated like this?  Was it because he was weak and unable to fight back?

Unless Junpei did something to stop them, he would have to continue to live his life in misery. Then Junpei realized the anger he felt towards them wasn’t going to fade away if he only stopped them. He wanted to hurt them like they hurt him for all those years. They had to pay for what they had done.

They had to suffer like he did.

Although he was only angry and wanted them to suffer, Junpei was only tired of being weak. Having been bullied his whole life was paving the way for him to go insane slowly.

~~~

If there was a button that would kill everyone he hated, he wouldn't press it. However, if there was a button that would kill everyone who hated him, he would press it without hesitation.

Canon, right?

Nevertheless, if there existed a button that would make everyone who hurt him and their loved ones suffer, he would choose to press that button.

Hatred and grudge are terrible emotions. It can capture you and swallow you whole. Sometimes, when you get angry you may have had thoughts about wanting a certain person to suffer but there’s a line you don’t cross.

When you wish for the person you hate the most to die, you don’t wish death on their loved ones because they had nothing to do with them. However-

Death would be too forgiving after all they had done but letting them suffer every single day until their last breath sounded like the perfect option.

Making them suffer until they can’t take it anymore would be the perfect punishment.

Junpei was drowning in hatred, I wanted to make sure to give him this perspective of wanting his bullies to suffer with their loved ones so he could get revenge but the thing is… Junpei was never strong enough (mentally) to do things that could make someone innocent suffer.

~~~

Junpei hadn’t thought he would spend his day off stalking the leader of his bullies who had pissed on him that night but here he was.

That guy was more of a loser than Junpei ever could be. He spent his day walking around and smoking when he wasn’t playing pachinko or disturbing the peace in the streets.

Although it was boring to follow the guy around, Junpei needed at least some information about this guy to hurt him. Junpei could never outpower him and torture him like in his fantasies but if he could blackmail him in some way it would be more than enough. He only needed something to use it against him.

After the fifth hour, he lost hope. The guy was useless, he didn’t have a purpose in his life or something he could use against him. As he was getting ready to call it a day, something happened.

The guy stopped in front of a convenience store, talking to a girl who was sweeping the front of the shop. She said something and they laughed. They walked into the store, Junpei watched through the large store window as he made his way to the cash register and continued talking to the girl until she walked around the counter. The girl didn’t look like she was uncomfortable talking to him.

They continued chatting for a while before the girl crouched down behind the counter. When she was back in Junpei’s view, she was holding a large package. The guy looked annoyed but took the package from her, they exchanged some sort of farewell before he walked out of the store.

Junpei pulled his baseball cap further down and followed the guy to an apartment building. He kept his distance and watched him use a key to get into the building, after a long time of waiting, Junpei made his way towards the building’s entrance but didn’t go inside.

Instead, he checked the name tags next to each doorbell. Then he noticed a familiar last name next to a girl's name.

Bingo.

Here, although he found the reader’s place and was stalking them, he wasn’t planning on doing anything. Actually, there was going to be a segment of him debating on whether or not to send the reader anonymous death threats about his brother and everything but it felt out of place. Junpei is still sane, after all.

~~~

They caught him after work the next day.

“Hold him.”

While the two guys held Junpei against the wall, their leader inhaled from his cigarette with a sinister smile as his hand reached for Junpei’s face and cupped his cheek.

Junpei struggled but the other two guys were using their both hands to hold him in place.

The leader’s hand moved up his cheek and carded the long fringe covering Junpei’s forehead back. He took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling it in the vulnerable one’s face before pressing the still-lit cigarette between two other barely healed burns.

When Junpei opened his mouth to scream, the guy shoved the cigarette in his mouth. He forcefully closed his jaw shut and snickered two words, demanding. “Eat it.”

Having no other choice, Junpei chewed. The tobacco which wasn’t made for consumption through the mouth was bitter than anything these guys made him eat before, he wanted to gag as the small leaves covered the inside of his mouth, making it impossible to chew any more as they absorbed his saliva, leaving him with a dry mouth.

He was being humiliated, I don’t know if you know how it feels to be degraded to the point of you losing your pride, being afraid to talk to others, expressing emotions or even lifting your head to look at someone because you feel inferior to them but that was how Junpei felt… at least until now.  

They laughed at the same time he was struggling to breathe.

In the end, Junpei so desperately wanted to be the last one to laugh.

First crack. First step to his insanity.

~~~

Junpei spent two weeks preparing everything. He learned your working schedule, which route you took home, and just how much your brother treasured you. From his observations, he could confidently say that you were the only thing a guy like him cared about.

You were perfect.

Junpei is no villain mastermind, just an ordinary guy. He didn’t have a plan on what he was going to do or how he was going to do it. He was acting without thinking or rather letting his anger and hatred for his bullies control him.

~~~

I wrote this segment to change the perspective, give the reader a normal impression. To show that she’s passive aggressive but she’s still just a normal person who had a late night job and a brother who treasured her.

Tonight was going to be the last late-night shift ever for you. Not because you hated it but because your brother insisted you stopped working at night since he believed it was dangerous for any girl your age.

Unlike any other nights, you had told him you would walk home yourself, although he refused at first, when you lied to him about promising to take a taxi home, he relented.

First sprinkles of how caring the brother is. He cares and treasures the reader. Because she’s family.

It had been quite a calm night, even during the rush hour after the bars closed, it was quiet.

Although you weren’t supposed to close the store any earlier than the time that was written on the entry door, you clearly weren’t going to have anyone coming here after this hour. So, you decided to wipe the floors and close the cash register. As the machine was printing out the entire day’s worth of receipt, you flipped the ‘open’ sign on the door to ‘closed’.

Once the store was clean and ready to close, you went to the dressing room to take off your work shirt. It wasn’t your turn to wash any of the shirts this week which meant that you could throw the shirt into the laundry basket that was already filled up with dirty shirts without hesitation. Your coworker was definitely going to be angry but you couldn’t care less, they often left the toilet clogged and never changed the coffee filter when they used the coffee machine in the break room. It was simply your way of getting back at them.

Also, here, even though it may not have meant a lot to you, this part is important. The reader is shown to be passive aggressive in contrast to her brother. She’s not the type to get violent, she is not some sort of angel either. Just a regular person who gets upset over small things.

After counting up all the money and leaving the receipts in the small safe, you turned off the lights to exit from the back with the trash. You took out the keys from the front pocket of your pants and locked the back door.

Goosebumps prickled your skin, the cold of the night was too harsh. Strolling out of the warmth of the store into the crisp night air was like being suddenly flung into a blizzard. You shivered, throwing the trash into the large dumpster and wrapping your arms around yourself.

Your teeth were chattering when you bit your tongue out of a sudden because of something moving behind the dumpsters. Whipping your head around abruptly, you tried to see if what you saw from the corner of your eye was just your imagination.

Never the one to have quick reflexes or ever had been in a fight or flight situation, you stood there, staring at a lanky guy who was holding a handkerchief in his hand.

Where did he come from? Was he hiding behind the dumpster?

As if you still weren’t sure if what you were seeing was real or not, you blinked, completely frozen in place.

None of you moved.

“H-hello? C-can I help you?” Maybe he was one of the drunkards but you knew that wasn’t true. He was standing still, not even wavering.

It was quiet.

Seconds passed before you finally came back to your senses. You could simply walk away from him. Internally slapping yourself in the face, you took a step back to turn around.

Then he took a step, it made your breath hitch but you had made your mind. Turning around on your heels, you walked. He moved too. Your pulse went haywire in terror and before you could start running, you felt a cloth being pressed over your mouth, making you lose consciousness almost immediately.

~~~

The first thing you noticed was the smell of mold, dust, and wet concrete.

You felt shivers run down your spine. Your stomach churned and you froze as you recalled everything that had happened. Jolting up from the mold-covered mattress, you noticed two more things as soon as you started moving your body. There was a single metal anklet chaining you to a pillar and your hands were tied behind you.

When you opened your mouth to scream, you noticed another thing. Your mouth was taped.

Starting to hyperventilate, you found yourself crying in fear. Muffled sounds of your sobbing echoed in the dark until a loud creaking noise made you quiet down. You held your breath to listen carefully.

Click.

It was a door.

Someone was here with you.

It had to be your kidnapper.

Footsteps.

He was getting closer.

Okay, take a deep breath. Your brother had taught you how to fight, you had to go for a punch on the throat, kick him between the legs, and shove the inside of your palm up to his chin with everything you got. Well… although you had to be untied in those scenarios, you knew how to fight.

The thing is, although she knows how to fight, she’s not strong. Not mentally nor physically. I wanted to point that out with this line. Because after this line, you came to realize that the reader is in fact, powerless and pathetic. She can’t fight or anything. These are the type of thoughts you have in your mind when you feel invincible, before you get to face the bitter truth of how insignificant you could be against someone who had the upper hand on you.

What else, what else?

You moved your leg and the chain made a clanking sound.

The chain, it was long enough to-

“Brought you food, I can’t stay here today but I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

He’s gonna go to work. Literally. This is just another reflection of Junpei’s life, he’s just a normal dude with a job he needs to go to earn money to pay the rent.

You watched the guy put down a tray of food on the bed. They were all in bowls. Rice and water. By the time you looked up to him, you saw that he was wearing a facemask and gloves. He noticed your stare and kneeled on the mattress.

He’s hiding himself, that’s because he still doesn’t know what he’s going to do to her. He’s still conflicted if he should just let her go. The face mask is there so she won’t recognize him once he lets her go. He doesn't want her to think of him as a monster either, hiding his face because he’s ashamed of having her here.

Suddenly, you started squirming, not wanting him to come close to you. Yet it was futile, he pressed you down by your shoulder.

“I’ll peel the tape off,” he announced and scratched the corner of the tape until he managed to lift enough of it to be able to grab. Then he peeled it off abruptly, making you scream in pain. “Ah, I’m going to be late…” He got up from the mattress while checking his phone. “Like I said, I’ll be back tomorrow-”

“Who are you?! Why are you doing this?! Where am I?!” you screamed, your voice broke thrice as if you were too dehydrated. How long had you been here?

He didn’t answer and walked out from the way he came, you heard him shut the door.

I’m bad at writing but yeah, he can’t handle being face to face with the consequences of what he’s doing to her or getting yelled at. He literally hadn’t thought she’d be fighting back.

Someone could hear you now that your mouth was free. So you started screaming and finally got up to your feet. You were discalced and the wet concrete was incredibly uncomfortable to walk on, the small pebbles of things you couldn’t see prickled under your feet.

Hours passed, or it felt like hours passed but your throat was sore from screaming nonstop. The chain wasn’t that long, you couldn’t reach anywhere as you only could go around in circles.

Since you were exhausted, you relented and walked back to the mattress to sit on a spot where it didn’t have any mold.

Your stare landed on the tray of food the guy left earlier. You were starving but how were you supposed to eat when your hands were tied behind your back? You could have tried moving them front by sliding them down your back while crouching and then stepping back but the metal chain around your ankle was preventing you from doing exactly that.

Moving closer to the tray of food, you wondered why everything was in a bowl yet again.

The realization hit you at once when you saw the bone design on the bowls. He was messing with you, he expected you to eat like a damn dog. That made you lose it altogether. You kicked the tray as far as you could and continued screaming.

~~~

You had never realized how slow time moved until now. Hours were like years. You couldn’t move because your stomach was sizzling with acid, trying to basically digest itself and making you regret kicking the tray.

No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t reach the food, the chain was too short.

Was this how you were going to die?

Ugh, what are you stupid? People won’t die from starvation or thirst this early and you would be fine… he said he was coming back.

Tomorrow night?

Was it morning when he said that?

You didn’t know the answer.

Your head started spinning again.

~~~

Something was poking your cheek.

“Hey.”

You jerked awake, startling the guy.

It was quiet as he waited for you to sit up. You didn’t have the strength to yell or scream at him anymore.

“You should eat this time, I don’t know when I’ll be back.” He put the tray down on the mattress but he didn’t leave like the last time. He stood there, waiting.

You leaned forward towards the tray, it was the same food from before and they were in the same bowls. Your eyes scanned around the large place, the bowls you had kicked weren’t anywhere to be seen, so they had to be the same bowls.

Your gaze landed on the guy, he was still wearing a face mask and gloves. There were a chair and a large bag next to the pillar far away from the one you were chained to, completely out of your reach.

“Come on, eat now, I’ll put it away or the mice will gather on this floor again.”

“I can’t eat like this,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. “Untie me.”

“That’s why they’re in a bowl, use your mouth.” Was his answer.

His speaking becomes more direct, order like. It’s because he starts to realize the power dynamics they have more. He finally has a sort of plan in his mind.

“I’m not going to humiliate myself like that.” For someone in captivity, you sure were asking for first-class treatment.

“If you wanna leave here you might wanna do the things I say when I say them,” he said, walking over to the chair to sit down. “It’ll speed up the process.”

“Why am I here?” you demanded, sounding a little too annoyed. “What process?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, watching you in silence.

“I have a brother,” you hissed through your teeth, “He’ll know I’m missing and once he finds you, he’ll make you regret everything-”

“He’s the reason why you’re here.” His tone was blank, devoid of anything.

“Huh?”

“Eat now, we have things to do.”

After careful thinking, I wanted to change the way he was speaking to her in a way to hint that he was now determined.

“People will notice my absence!” You raised your voice, “I have friends and a job, they will all notice.”

“They won’t.” He didn’t explain further but you weren’t dumb. He was wearing a face mask and gloves, the food was just rice and water.

These were just precautions; he is scared of the consequences, he is scared shitless of what will happen once he lets her go. He doesn’t want her to recognize him or leave fingerprints.

“Y-you planned this…”

He didn’t. Not everything. These are just him acting on impulse. 

“You should eat, we have things to do.”

There were a thousand different thoughts going through your mind in a millisecond. “I’m not gonna eat,” you grumbled, “Let me go.”

You heard him sigh before he stood up to walk over to the mattress. He grabbed the tray and walked away with it, putting it on the chair.

“I guess it’s better if we start now and then you can eat.” He crouched next to the large back, unzipping it. You saw him take some stuff out but couldn’t make out what they were. “What kind of a guy is your brother?”

This question is important. It wasn’t just a question, it’s a way of knowing if the reader was aware of her brother’s actions. Family is family after all. But Junpei was going to judge the reader depending on her answer.

The question was weird. You couldn’t place your finger on it but it felt like a trap. As if he was testing you.

“I asked a question.”

Your shoulders tensed when he raised his voice.

“He’s protective and kind,” you blurted out.

The duality. Two faced. Junpei realizes that people only care about certain people and don't care about the people they hurt because they have nothing to do with them. 

It’s hard to accept at times that people you meet are not like how they act in front of you to their loved ones. Someone can be mean to you but could be the sweetest person to their lover. Someone could be the kindest to you but could be the person who drove another person into madness.

That made him scoff, he shook his head before getting back up and turned around. Immediately upon him walking closer to the mattress, you noticed that he was holding a box cutter.

It made a repetitive clicking sound as he pushed the blade out.

Fear came rushing back as you remembered once again that you were kidnapped by a stranger who clearly had planned this out.

“I’m- I’m sorry, please, wait!” You started squirming, hurrying to get up from the bed so you could at least dodge but he already had one hand grabbing your shoulder.

You were going to die, it was that easy. He was wearing gloves and hadn’t even touched you directly in any way, you were going to get brutally murdered and he wasn’t going to leave any evidence behind. You were- You were-

“Don’t move,” he warned, holding the box cutter where you could see it. You nodded rapidly in response, tears already blurring your vision.

You felt your shirt being stretched and before you knew it, being cut.

“W-what-”

“Your clothing is in the way.”  

He tore the rest of the fabric left from your shirt and moved to your pants.

You watched in panic as he hooked a finger under the front of your pants and started cutting. The blade was too sharp, slicing the fabric of your pants smoothly and quickly. You weren’t dumb enough to struggle right now when the blade was so near your flesh, he was being careful to not cut you and you didn’t want to mess up his concentration.

By the time he managed to completely cut your pants and leave you only in your underwear, you caught a glimpse of his red ear and neck.

The ‘I’m dangerous’ facade is there but he’s blushing because he saw the reader without her clothes, isn’t that ironic. He’s not some psychopath, he’s just a guy who is sick of being bullied and wants to take matters into his own hands.

He flipped you over to grab the remains of your shirt and pants, after grabbing them he walked back to the large bag. The rustling sound filled your ears but you were too busy drowning in your tears. That had scared you and slapped you back to reality. You were helpless in this situation, no matter what you said or did, this guy could do whatever he wanted to you.

As long as you did everything he said, you would be unharmed, right? Wasn’t that what he said before? He also told you to not move so he wouldn’t cut you. Maybe this was just a prank.

Yeah, that had to be it.

Your brother could be a jokester sometimes, he had probably paid someone to prank you. Yes, that was it.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked.

Ahh, you hadn’t realized that you were laughing. Your laughter quieted down but you didn’t answer him because you didn’t know why either.

The reader is losing her composure, her passive aggressive self is slowly going to disappear so she can try to fight. The feeling of helplessness starts to mess with her.

His footsteps echoed in the warehouse, you heard them come closer before you felt the mattress sink. Instead of turning around, you listened to what he could be doing.

Rustling, plastic wrap opening, and paper being ripped. There was a momentary pause before you heard the familiar click sound of a lighter.

He inhaled and as soon as he did, he started coughing.

He was smoking… or trying to.

“How do people even smoke these?” he asked himself.

The fact that he was forcing himself to smoke, shows that he had become dedicated to his unknown plan of getting back to his bully.

Only while he was taking another whiff you realized he probably had pulled down or taken off his mask. You needed to see his face if you wanted to identify him once you got out and-

“Don’t move,” he warned. “When you struggle, it hurts more. Trust me, I know from experience.”

Still being considerate, he’s still unwilling. This isn’t a guy who enjoys torturing some girl for no reason, he feels obliged to do this.

You didn’t get to ask him what he was talking about as a sharp pain on your back made you scream in surprise. Your body twisted and moved away from whatever that was but a hand pressed you down onto the mattress by your head, keeping you in place. He used his knee to press you down by your back to make sure you couldn’t move at all.

“It’s not lit,” he mumbled and after his remark, you heard the lighter again. He inhaled, coughed, and then you felt the sharp pain on your shoulder this time. The pain was more vivid, you heard the sizzling coming from the cigarette and your skin felt like it was burning as the cigarette’s lit tip extinguished on your skin.

“Stop! Please! It hurts!”

He pulled it back but soon again you heard the lighter before he took another whiff of the cigarette, coughed, and pressed it on your skin.

“Why are you doing this? Please stop!”

“Your brother does this to me almost every single day,” he said, holding you in place and twisting the cigarette’s lit end on your skin. “Did you know?”

He starts to get more gutsy, he is sure he’s going to enjoy hurting her once he gets the hang of it. He knows this because the brother and the bullies enjoyed it.

Petrified, you couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t understand what was happening. Your entire body stilled as you heard the lighter again.

“Please,” you choked out, voice breaking. “I didn’t know. This has nothing to do with me! I didn’t do anything.” You were becoming desperate as his hand moved away from your hair to start stubbing out cigarettes on the other shoulder.

“I didn’t do anything either,” he said. “But he never stopped, no matter how much I begged.”

“I’m not my brother, please, I’m innocent.”

“So was I.”

Junpei now has decided something, you’ll see it in the next scenes. He wants to do everything they did to him to her. Nothing more and nothing less.

Another burn and then another and then another-

Your tears had dried by the time he was done.

“Here’s the food, you should eat now before you pass out.”

You couldn’t roll on your back, the skin on your back was burning up and you were sure it was bleeding.

He must have noticed because he picked the tray up and put it right in front of you. This time, you didn’t say anything and stuck your face into the bowl, ëating the rice without taking a breath. As you were gulping down the water, you noticed that you needed to pee.

Seeing that you were done, he took the tray away from you.

“I…”

“Hmm?” He paused to listen to what you wanted to say.

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

“If it’s pee, you can do it here.” He was being serious. “There’s no bathroom here and I forgot to bring a bucket.”

You see? He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t even know how long he would keep her here. He is just so stupid and reckless.

Your lips pressed together but it didn’t stop you from sobbing. “Why are you doing this? I didn’t do anything to you.”

“You should blame your brother for this.”

He doesn’t know. He just feels obliged to. This feels like the right thing to do to get revenge.

You knew your brother could be a douche at times but you had never thought he would hurt someone like this. He was… so caring and loving towards you. He was always so careful and protected you from any danger.

“Why isn’t he here instead of me then?” If he hurt this guy to the point of him turning into a monster, he deserved to be here, not you.

“I want him to suffer,” he said.

He was planning to get to your brother by hurting you, it was that simple but he didn’t know your brother like you did. If your brother found out about what he did to you, he would actually kill him. The last guy who broke your heart by cheating on you had gotten three broken bones, there was no way this guy would survive his wrath.

Oh…

You started to connect the dots.

Your brother had anger issues, he took them out from anyone he could overpower. He was caring and protective of you because he was scared someone would treat you the way he treated others.

He had failed miserably.

Everything he did lead up to your torment.

Learning this wouldn’t anger him. Learning this would make him suffer. It could push him into a bottomless hole where he will only blame himself for everything until he would kill himself.

This guy didn’t seem like he was enjoying this, whatever he was doing to you hurt him more than it hurt you and it was your brother who did this to him.

He wanted your brother to suffer by breaking the thing he treasured the most.

This is the part the reader notices the pattern, the bitter truth she had been ignoring for so long. She feels pity for Junpei because this is really her brother’s fault. She’s here because of him.

“If… I’ll go and check the place again,” he announced. “I didn’t really check if there were any bathrooms.”

You nodded languidly and continued lying down on your stomach.

He came back a while later and grabbed something from his bag anteriorly returning to your side. “There’s a bathroom but the water pipes in there must be damaged, the flush didn’t work and the water coming from the faucet was black. I have wet wipes with me though.”

Metal clinking on metal echoed, no it was a familiar sound of keys rattling. You lifted your head up from the mattress and you couldn’t believe your eyes. He was dangling a key in front of you. He was holding wet wipes and something else in his other hand.

“I will untie you but you have to behave if you don’t wanna be hurt.” He put the key back in his pants’ front pocket and leaned forward to put on a collar around your neck. “Okay?”

“What is that?” you asked, planting your knees on the mattress and using your legs to sit up.

“A shock collar, its voltage is high enough to pin you down.” His explanation was quick as he was unlocking the metal anklet. “Please don’t make me use it.”

He helped you get up but your eyes were on the small device he was holding. It definitely belonged to the collar, it was a remote control. If you could take it away from him, you would be able to run away.

“Let’s go,” he said, holding you by your arm.

Okay, you needed to find a way to distract him. He needed to drop his guard enough for you to grab the device from him.

He led you out of the large opening and down some stairs before making a sharp right turn. You were panicking because all of the windows were blocked by wooden planks and you couldn’t tell where the exit was.

“It’s here.”

You walked inside a filthy bathroom, the tile floor that was supposed to be white was a disgusting brown and the stalls were covered in graffiti. You were discalced, there was no way you were going to walk inside without something between the filthy floor and your feet.

“Can I borrow your shoes?”

“No.” He dragged you inside and led you straight to a stall without a door. “Be quick.”

You stood in front of the dirty toilet, the ceramic was smeared with brown streaks and you could only hope it was mud.

Turning back to him, you trembled in panic. “A bucket… or outside would be better. Please, it’s so filthy here-”

“I have to leave soon, you either pee now or wet the bed later.” He wasn’t looking at you, averting his gaze to anywhere but you. “You don’t have another choice.”

He is actually way too merciful, he can’t look at her because he knows he will give in to her and take her outside. He’s not some emotionless bastard, that’s why he’s looking away.

You looked down and remembered that you were only in your underwear, the torture from earlier had made you forget about everything.

Ugh, you pressed your thighs together. You needed to relieve yourself, urgently. Yet another problem came up. “How am I going to do it when I’m tied up? I can’t pull my underwear down.”

His ears and neck turned red immediately, when he spoke, he was stuttering. “I-I’ll pull it down for you.”

Okay now, you get to see how awkward he feels. He didn’t think it would come to this when he decided to take her to the bathroom.

There was this urge to scream bubbling in your throat but you had to bite it as you watched him put the device in his pocket and crouched in front of you.

You stopped breathing when his gloved hands reached for your sides, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties before staggeringly pulling them down. He was breathing heavily, shoulders moving with each breath he took.

“H-here.”

He stood up, hands pulling down his shirt to cover a small problem you didn’t need to know about.

Look, the reader is the first girl he’s ever been near to. She’s basically the first girl he’s seeing ‘naked’. No matter the circumstances, it’s erotic but still he won’t touch her because she’s not here for this and he’s a good person. He made himself believe that he’s a good person and what he’s doing here just needs to be done.

“Are you going to wait here?” The least he could do was to give you privacy. “I can’t do it when you’re staring, it’s embarrassing.”

As if he only noticed you were still tied up and wouldn’t be able to run away when you’re this vulnerable, he nodded rapidly before taking a step back. “I’ll wait outside, let me know when you’re done so I can-” His eyes were on your halfway down panties, he stopped himself from talking and grabbed the wet wipes from the sink he had placed them on. “Just… be quick.”

They’re just two awkward adults. They both get to experience something in this scene. They’re just normal people here in this bathroom. Junpei cannot put on his tough guy facade here because she’s as vulnerable as he is.

Once he left, you took a deep breath, holding back your tears no matter how humiliating this situation was.

Okay, okay, okay.

This is fine.

You stared at the toilet and gagged dryly. There was no way you were going to sit on that…

Wait, you had heard that there were people who could pee standing up, maybe you could too.

Ugh, you would do anything to avoid sitting on this filthy thing anyway.

Taking a hesitant step back and lowering yourself reluctantly on the toilet, you stopped midway to try and see if you could do it.

The result?

It was as expected.

You pissed yourself, not even a drop landing inside the toilet.

A sob left your lips and the shame you felt was immeasurable. The guy was going to laugh if he saw you like this and what’s worse was that he was probably going to leave you like this.

This. Up until now, you got to know Junpei and started rooting for him but this. You realize that she doesn’t know Junpei like you do. To her Junpei is only a kidnapper who’s probably going to humiliate her with every chance he’s got.

You wondered how pathetic you looked right now.

Ahh, you hoped your brother had so much fun torturing this guy! You hoped he felt so powerful whenever he humiliated this guy! You hoped it was worth it for you to be standing here right now with your piss training down your leg, panties halfway down your knees, and shaking from the pain of the cigarette burns on your shoulders.

Your sobs turned into giggling.

“Are you done?”

“I pissed myself,” you replied, laughing hysterically but as soon as the guy was in front of you, your laughter turned back into sobs.

He didn’t laugh, rather he looked at you in pity. Which made you whimper audibly before continuously apologizing.

“I’m sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” your voice got quieter. “I feel so miserable and pathetic. I can’t do this anymore. Please let me go.”

A glimpse. He sees himself in her. They’re quite similar and he feels bad for doing this to her.

Without saying anything, he grabbed the wet wipes, opening the pack and pulling out a bunch of the wipes. “Come here.”

You took a wobbly step forward and another until you were in front of him.

He crouched, you stilled as he began pulling your piss-soaked panties down, wordlessly urging you to step out of them. Once you did, he used the wet wipes to clean your legs. He quickly wiped at the fluid running down your legs, doing his best to get it all in one go but he needed more wipes.

“Could you spread your legs wider?” He then started wiping your inner thighs after you complied, moving in a circular motion and avoiding looking at your bare pussy. By the time he was done wiping your legs he stood up, grabbing two more wet wipes from the back. “Do girls wipe from back to front or vice versa?”

The question was so out of nowhere that it made you snort.

This was supposed to be a comedic relief and a way of showing Junpei’s awkward and nonchalant personality but yeah it also laid the ground for the reader to start to trust him. He’s just a normal dude. Nothing more or less.

He sighed at your reaction and pressed the wet wipes on your slit, moving it along your folds.

“Ah.” Suddenly, your thighs pressed together, shaking as you pressed your forehead against his chest. The sensation had caught you in surprise, it even made you gasp softly.

He blushed bright red, wiping the front of your pussy and pulling his hand back immediately. “D-done,” he announced.

You nodded against his chest.

This scene is my favorite. The moment of tension, the first time he touched her (even if his intentions weren't sexual) sexually. It’s raw, it’s written normally but their reactions. They feel like an awkward couple, I wanted to make it so the power dynamics suddenly changed or rather disappeared. 

These two are equal, only for now. They had an unintentional intimate moment and it’s bittersweet. It’s not supposed to be romantic, it’s supposed to be erotic only because Junpei is the one finding this interaction t be erotic. Even if it was unintentionally, he touched a girl and she reacted erotically. 

That’s why in the end he’s the one who feels embarrassed and the reader doesn’t think much of what just happened.

Your plan to escape past forgotten, you walked back to the room and let him lock the anklet around your ankle again before taking out the shock collar. He brought a blanket he pulled out from the bag and draped it over your lap.

“I’ll… I’ll be back in the morning to bring a bucket and underwear for you.”

That was it?

He was going to leave you like this?

You were almost naked except for your bra now and you were exhausted. Having your hands tied around your back when there were so many cigarette burns on your shoulders only added to your pain.

“H-hey,” you called, “Can’t you untie my hands? It’s really uncomfortable.”

He stilled for a moment, thinking. Decidedly, his hand went back and he fished out the box cutter from his back pocket. He pushed the blade out, cutting whatever thing he had used to tie your hands off.

When the pressure disappeared, you felt your shoulders relax. You put your hands on your lap, rubbing your bleeding wrists gently.

He retrieved the thick black zip ties and walked away. “I’ll leave some more food and water then. I’ll leave the wet wipes here too, just find a corner to relieve yourself next time.”

You nodded, he left a couple of store-bought tuna mayo-filled onigiris and a bottle of water on the mattress before placing the wet wipes on the concrete ground.

“Um, uh… Goodnight. I’ll come back in the morning.”

”Yeah.”

You see, Junpei now feels kind of attached. He realized that she’s a human, and she’s a she. A female. A woman. He feels the need to be friendlier, it’s creepy because he only started doing this right after she reacted to his touch. He is pathetic and she noticed that.

He left.

You waited.

Waited.

When you were sure he was gone for the night, you grabbed one of the onigiris, tore the packaging open, and split the ball in half. With your shaking hands, you scooped out the filling and smeared it on your ankle.

Mayonnaise was slippery, it could help you slip the anklet out.

Nevertheless, it didn’t work.

The anklet was adjusted just right around your ankle, it didn’t budge any lower or higher, even with the help of the mayonnaise.

Screaming in anger, you wiped everything off with the wet wipes so the guy wouldn’t notice anything odd tomorrow.

The guy. She doesn’t even know his name.

You had to get out of here.

Think.

Think.

Think.

The chain clanked and you froze.

Your eyes landed on the anklet and followed the chain it was wrapped around.

An idea.

This could work.

No.

This was going to work.

~~~

Click.

You pushed yourself up from the mattress instantly.

He was back.

You could feel the blood pumping through your body, hands shaking from nervousness.

It was completely silent before he gracefully walked inside, he was holding a bucket and a plastic bag. His face was blank but his skin was pale and the face mask was barely covering his nose. He was covered in sweat, hair sticking to his forehead. “I ran here,” he panted. “Let’s be quick, I can’t be late to work again.”

He walked closer, dropping the plastic bag near the mattress and placing the bucket carefully down.

Your lips kept trying to curl down into a frown but you fought to keep your expression neutral as he kneeled next to the plastic bag and pulled out a fresh pack of cotton panties. “I’ll put the collar on you and untie you so you can dress yourself up, okay?”

Nodding, you kept your eyes on him as your breathing became ragged. As soon as he unlocked your anklet, you were going to pounce on him, wrap the chain around his neck and hopefully choke him until he passed out.

That was the plan.

Simple.

He instructed you to stand up while you had the blanket wrapped around your waist. Once you did as he told you, he put the shock collar around your neck and gave you the keys.

Dumbfounded, you stared at him.

“You can do it yourself, I’m gonna watch from a distance.”

No.

This would mean that your plan was ruined.

Funny thing is, I laid the ground so he wouldn’t wanna touch her again. Not that close to her genitals and that’s only because he probably noticed how it softened him, making his resolve falter. He is trying to put distance between them after he noticed that she is actually a woman he’s holding captive. He cannot do this anymore.

Yet, you took the keys from him and he took a couple of steps back, holding the device in his hands.

Your knuckles were white as you unlocked the anklet and tore the packaging of the underwear open. Putting one on, you let the blanket fall down on the mattress.

“Good, now put the anklet back on and throw me the keys.”

You hesitated but still kneeled to grab the anklet and put it around your ankle. Pausing, you pushed the key inside the lock but didn’t lock the anklet. It still made a metallic click sound but it was unlocked.

With shaky hands you threw the keys back at him, being careful to not move your leg so the anklet wouldn’t slip and fall down, ruining your scheme.

He walked over to where the keys had landed and leaned down to grab them. “I brought some more stuff, they’re in the bag. I don’t think I can torture you like your brother tortures me. I’ll… I’ll be back tonight to take you back.”

The color drained from your face and you stood there, shaking. “You’re letting me go?”

“I mean, I don’t feel enjoyment from this like I thought I would,” he breathed. “My mind was clouded with revenge so much that I wanted to torture you who had nothing to do with it.”

He is letting her go, actually. He knows the things he did were wrong and he regrets it. He feels bad because she’s just a helpless woman he held captive.

All of his emotions had drained away in an instant, leaving him reeling.

Hatred was a terrifying emotion.

Junpei could feel it surrounding him. He knew he didn’t hate you but his grudge for your brother hadn’t appeared out of thin air.

He knew it wasn’t fair to you to hold you accountable for what your brother had done to him but he couldn’t help but think of-

No matter how it was, Junpei had promised his mother to bear the burdens he had earned.

Your brother was a nasty bully. His crimes weren't anyone else’s but his fault.

Junpei knew that.

There was no way he could hurt you like he hurt him but… the burden was just too much.

His hands were twitching as he struggled to put away the keys. With an audible yet shuddered sigh, he walked towards you to take off the shock collar but he had moved so abruptly that it made you take a step back, the anklet opened and fell on the ground with a loud clatter.

Whether it be from shock or clumsiness, he dropped the remote control for the shock collar as well.

He froze and so did you.

None of you moved.

Your eyes were on the device, it was closer to you than him. If you were quick, you could grab it before he could. You wouldn’t be able to take off the collar right now, your only chance was the device.

He knew exactly what you were thinking.

He is scared that if she runs away now, without him trying to make things right, she’ll go to the police or just make things worse.

Both of you moved at the same time.

It was as if everything was moving in slow motion, you saw him reach the device before you but your legs didn’t stop, your body crashed against him, tackling him on the ground.

The device flew from his grasp when his body hit the floor and you groaned.

He was getting ready to crawl towards the remote control when you grabbed the chain.

There was a small moment of hesitation as you wrapped the chain around his neck and pulled it with full force.

Here we get a glimpse of the similarities between the siblings. They’re both ruthless but in different ways .This is her HAVING to hurt Junpei to run away because she knows he won’t let her go now. Not when she tried to get away and betrayed his trust. Yet the brother is ruthless and hurts people for his own entertainment.

The guy’s body stilled, going completely stiff as his hands went to his neck, trying to dig under the chain to pull it away.

You only had to hold out until he passed out, you could do this. Just keep pulling. Keep pulling.

One of his hands reached forward, trying to reach the device.

You pulled harder.

His fingertip managed to touch the remote control.

You planted your feet on the floor to pull the chains, it was enough force to knock him out, or at least that was what you had thought.

Before you knew it, an indescribable pain ripped down your spine. Your grip loosened around the chain and you crashed on your knees and hands but then electricity tore around your body, leaving you spasming on the concrete floor, unable to grasp anything as the electricity zapped through each nerve you had.

It felt like minutes until it stopped.

Your body continued spasming as the guy crawled on top of you with his fist up in the air.

The moment his fist met your face, it was hard. Your whole body jolted from the pain and you bounced off from the concrete. The impact left you even more dumbfounded than the electricity that had zapped through your body.

You felt another punch and then another until finally, he stopped.

He yelled in frustration and pain. You couldn’t tell what he was saying but all of the words were being said through his teeth, he sounded very angry.

This. The frustration and anger of her betraying him. Now, he’s the bad guy. He knows that is the impression he gave her. He’s just some creep who kidnapped and put out some cigarettes on her. Nothing else. He had thought they had a connection and that they could be friends or more if it wasn’t for the circumstances. He feels bad. He feels awful. However, he’s forgiving. It’s his fault and he can’t blame you.

Haha, perhaps now he had changed his mind and decided to not let you go.

Maybe if you hadn’t tried to escape, you would have been free tonight.

You heard the anklet’s lock click before you lost consciousness.

~~~

Junpei got scolded by his boss for coming in a half an hour late to work. He was told to work at the back yet again but he endured everything. Just like how he was enduring the pain around his neck.

You had crushed his windpipe, that was for sure. It hurt when he spoke but fortunately it hadn’t affected his voice. If he lost his voice now, he wouldn’t be able to work at all. He needed the money to pay for his rent.

Ahh, he was worried about the wrong things.

He chuckled to himself and his brows furrowed when his throat clenched from the pain.

Tonight, he decided, he was going to finish this tonight.

Still, he’s just an ordinary guy. He feels bad for the things he did and still wants to let her go. It’s burdensome, he cannot carry this guilt with him.

“Jun! Yo man, I’m leaving now!” His coworker entered the break room suddenly, startling him.

“Oh, alright. See you next week then.”

“Yeah, I closed the cash register and mopped the floors, so you can leave once you restock the cigarette displays!” He checked his phone screen and quickly turned around. “See ya, I gotta catch the last bus!”

Junpei didn’t even get to say anything as the guy left. He finished washing the dishes and walked back into the front of the store. Behind the counter, he started stocking the empty cigarette displays.

The sooner he was done, the sooner he could leave. He already had a day off tomorrow so everything would go according to the plan.

The plan is the same, let her go.

Well, Junpei was never that lucky.

The bell over the store’s door chimed, indicating that someone walked in the store. Junpei had thought it was his coworker who had forgotten something but then he heard the familiar laughter of the same three guys.

He turned around hesitantly as his bullies were leaning towards the counter.

The leader was smirking, “Yo, Jun. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

His boss had never installed security cameras and they knew that. They dragged him out of the shop after grabbing some cigarettes.

It was easy to guess where this was going.

“I had a terrible day, Jun!” whined the leader. “I need you to stay still so it’ll end quick, okay?”

Blood splashed onto the concrete ground when his fist met Junpei’s face for the fifth time. Junpei's eyes landed on the dark red liquid pooling under his feet.

“Woah, these brass knuckles are good!” One of the guys laughed.

“The guy who sold them to me said they hurt like a bitch.” The other one stared at Junpei being battered by their leader. “I’d say he’s enduring it well, if I were in his place I’d be bawling my eyes out.”

“Being punched by that guy is the worst, I’m kinda glad we’re friends.”

“Ew, dude. You’re gonna make me puke.”

The leader glowered at Junpei and swung his fist with everything he had. He drove his knuckles into his face and put all of his weight into it until the squelch of tearing flesh and blood spattered across his knuckles.

Junpei’s body could not take it any longer, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He was out cold in seconds.

~~~

Rage.

That was all he felt as he was packing his bag.

All the thoughts he had, in the beginning, coming back.

He regains the hatred from the beginning, the way he acted without a plan. It is all coming back. He’s losing his mind, his sanity is nonexistent.

He wanted to make that piece of shit regret his entire existence. He wanted to make sure that fucker couldn’t walk out into public without feeling ashamed and scared. He wanted to make him suffer for a lifetime.

Junpei was seeing clearly now.

His plan had been the only right way from the beginning. He couldn’t believe how he wavered from his own resolve just because some girl was playing innocent. You were the same as your brother.

You had to be.

Her desperate attempt at getting away and her seeing him as nothing but a bad guy is now being seen as just the two siblings being the exact same to Junpei. They are the same. He hates them, he won’t feel bad anymore. The brother’s face is overlapping with sister’s.

None of it mattered anyway.

What mattered was the end result.

And Junpei knew he was going to get the result he wanted nevertheless if it meant he would lose a piece of his humanity.

He finally is insane. His humanity is gone. He isn’t calculating anything, only acting on impulse.

~~~

With a sudden bang the door opened, it made you jolt as you were eating one of the melon bread the guy had bought for you.

I wanted to bring it to attention that he still bought her food, snacks even. To make her comfortable. He’s caring or used to be. He tried to prove to her that he wasn’t a bad guy.

Your ears were ringing as you stared at the guy walking inside with a backpack. He was shaking violently.

He was wearing the gloves as usual but his face was bare. Well, for the most part. It was covered in bandages that were bleeding through and the rest of his face was swollen.

His appearance sent a fierce shudder through your body because you knew who had done this to him.

She can see it. The insanity. Her brother turned him this way.

Your lips had barely parted to say something when he was hastily walking towards you with a deranged look in his eyes.

This isn’t the same guy who kidnapped her. He is ruthless and she is sure he’s actually going to kill her now.

You kicked on the mattress to get away but he took out the familiar device from his front pocket. Your hand went to your neck, the collar, it was still on.

Before you could register anything, electricity struck through your body, leaving you spasming on the mattress.

“You know, I was still planning to release you even after what you did.” He started digging through his bag. “But your brother made me change my mind. You really should thank him for that.”

He hadn’t realized how you couldn’t hear him at all from the shock coursing through your body. Once he saw you frothing at the mouth, he turned the device off to crawl on top of you with his video camera pointed at your face. “Good thing that I’m weak, your face is still recognizable.”

Funny if not miserable. He’s happy he couldn’t ruin her face even though he had put his whole weight behind the punches he threw at her.

You stared into the camera lens and then at him.

Panic started to course through your body.

“Please,�� you begged, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, you didn’t do anything. You had nothing to do with me and I had nothing to do with you. This is just about your shitty brother.”

“Please…”

“Stop crying, it’s annoying.” He squished your cheeks together with one gloved hand until your lips puckered, continuing to film everything at the same time. “But I’d say your crying face is really erotic.”

You sobbed, tears streaming down your face.

“Yeah, that’s the face.”

He gets it now. Why people bullied him and why people like to see others cry. It makes you feel superior, invincible and it’s erotic for someone like him. In his mental state right now, it’s just sexy, he wants to ruin her.

He let go of your face and pulled out the box cutter from his back pocket. “Don’t move,” he warned and you didn’t dare to. He sliced your bra right from the middle, this time, the tip of the blade cut your skin.

Now, he’s not as careful as before. When he was first cutting her clothes he tried not to hurt her more than he was going to, he was even scared that he was hurting her but now. It’s different.

You yelped in pain and blood started oozing out from the cut. Pressing his finger where your cut was, he pulled the skin down, making more blood gush out. You watched in terror with wide eyes as he filmed the blood streaming down from your chest to your stomach.

“Okay, now tell the audience your name and age.” He returned his attention to you.

He was going to show this to others. This would count as evidence.

“My attacker has dark hair and dark eyes, he is-”

She thinks she’s going to die and desperately tries to warn whoever is watching so that he’ll go to prison.

“Introduce yourself nicely or I’ll have to make it hurt.” He pressed the box cutter’s blade against your cheek. “I will edit this video and post it later for everyone to see if your brother even comes close to me.”

It’s clear that he’s going to release her and use this as blackmail. She only noticed this when he said it like that. She has to convince him to stop.

“I’m the one with a reputation,” you whimpered, “Please, it’s got nothing to do with me. Please.”

“That’s why you’re here,” he scoffed. “You have nothing to do with this. You’re like me! You did nothing wrong other than existing in this timeline! If only your brother wasn’t a douchebag narcissist, you wouldn’t be here!” He was yelling in your face, you were trembling in fear, completely unaware of what could happen in the next second.

This isn’t the same awkward kidnapper from the beginning, not a trace of his old self is present.

You felt the cold metal of the blade moving down your body until it met the fabric of your panties. He slashed the fabric, giving you another small but deep cut on your hip.

“I feel so sorry for you,” he said but his tone didn’t match his words. “So sorry. You’re so weak and defenseless. Weaker than me. Oh, I feel so sorry for you.”

There are two ways you can interpret this or maybe more but these were on my mind. I usually leave it to my friends when they’re reading our screenplays to decide what I was going for the scene and this is exactly the same. 

One actor might play it as a miserable guy who is pitying the helpless girl he’s going to rape because that is the only way to hurt a woman in his mind and hurt the bully in the worst way possible because she’s going to hate her brother for putting her in this position.

It can be said in a tone that's mocking yet still full of pity.

Another actor could play it as a man talking to himself. What he’s seeing is like looking at a mirror, this defenseless girl under him is just like him and he’s still trying to regain some of his humanity back but it’s too late. He has already taken a step forward he cannot take back. The voice is cracking like a call for help.

He tore the rest of the fabric off of you as he panted in excitement.

That’s the part why the tone of his voice not matching what he was saying doesn’t make sense. You realize this guy is actually insane. He’s not some normal ordinary guy anymore.

“I understand why your brother enjoys it so much now! I feel like a God. You’re at my mercy and you will take whatever comes your way because I have the power. If only you were a little stronger! Ahh, you’re so pitiful, it must be so unbearable!”

You get to see more of his insanity in just three paragraphs. He’s acting conflicted or maybe actually conflicted but this… things he said here are real. He is honest.

You froze, unable to do anything but watch in horror, he was so deranged that it was frightening. He had actually lost his mind.

“(name)!” he yelled, holding the camera up to your face, “Introduce yourself so we can begin! It’ll be just like a movie! First the actress’s name and the title screen!”

“I-”

“Speak up!”

With trembling lips, you introduced yourself, arms covering your chest as he was filming you.

“Be honest, (name), are you a virgin?”

A sob.

Ahh, the clueless girl finally gets an idea of what he is going to do to her.

“I need an answer.”

A nod.

“Ahh, you’re going to be my first as well. How miserable!”

Your eyes widened and you started crying harder.

Mocking and actually miserable. He’s wording it like they’re two lovers before calling it miserable. Even though he’s the one with power right now, he still feels equal. They are the same.

He put the box cutter back in his pocket and placed the video camera next to your head as he reached behind him to grab his bag. He searched through his bag until he found what he was looking for.

Smiling, he took out a cigarette from the pack and placed it between your lips. “I’ll light it for you,” he whispered. The cigarette was shaking along with your trembling lips as he lit the tip. “Inhale.”

You inhaled and the smoke filled your lungs, the nicotine calmed your senses slightly until you had to exhale.

He took the cigarette away from you once it was fully lit.

“Open your mouth.”

“Noo-”

He forced his fingers in your mouth to pry your jaw open. Holding your tongue tightly between two gloved fingers, he pulled the muscle out forcefully before pressing the lit tip down on your tongue.

You heard it sizzle and the pain was indescribable.

Do not try this lol 

It actually makes those bubbles on skin kinda thing with water inside or idk if it was. It makes it hard to eat anything other than room temperature soup and you can only drink water for ehh, 2 weeks.

Your hands reached out to his arms, trying to scratch at his skin but it was futile, he was wearing a thick sweatshirt.

Letting your tongue go, he pushed the cigarette inside your mouth.

“Chew.”

Tears blurred your vision, it worked in your favor though, so you didn’t have to see the dark amusement in his eyes as the tobacco leaves exploded in your mouth, absorbing the saliva and leaving your mouth dry.

“Swallow.”

You shook your head, there was no way you could, there was no-

“It’s not that hard. Your brother made me eat it a couple of times before.”

He relented when you shook your head again. His eyes landed on the water bottle he had left for you earlier and reached for it. Opening the lid, he poured it down your face.

The liquid that managed to get inside your mouth helped you spit out most of the leaves but not all of them. While you were busy coughing, Junpei unbuckled his belt. He was staring down at you, watching you struggle with some dark amusement, and the dangerous glint in his eyes made you tense. You defensively squeezed your legs together and watched him pull his pants down just enough to let his hard cock bounce free.

You found yourself violently trembling as panic coursed through your body. There was no will to fight left in you, exhausted and so in pain, all you could do was lie still.

“Calm down,” he assured, caressing your cheek. “What we’re gonna do next won’t hurt physically.”

He reached for his bag again, taking out something you didn’t recognize. “Ahh, this?” Noticing your stare he held it up for you to see, “It’s a condom, I don’t wanna leave any evidence.”

It’s fucking scary to be told this. That’s it.

At that moment, you wished your brother would drop dead wherever he was. You wanted him to die in such a miserable way that he would suffer even after death.

Idk if you know but porn is kinda illegal in Japan. They cencor it so if they get sued they can say that they were ‘pretending’ to have sex or they were just acting. That’s why her reaction is normal. It’s not only about being raped, it’s about losing everything and getting arrested. She won’t be able to get a job because this will end up in her report and they won’t think of this as rape. There are way too many fetish porn being filmed in japan, this can simple be one of them. That’s what’s so scary. 

Aside from that he just told her that he didn’t wanna leave any evidence. She has no idea if she’s going to live or not. He can kill her right now and make this into a snuff movie. He’s just so unpredictable.

Rolling the condom down his cock, Junpei grabbed the video camera pointing the lens at your face. He was being extra careful to not film himself. “Anything you wanna say to the audience?”

“...”

She’s scared. Lost the will to fight because she’s going to get hurt nonetheless. He’s not filming himself because he cannot leave any evidence. She cannot fight back even if she wants to.

You laid there motionlessly as he placed himself between your legs, moving them until he got comfortable and filming your bare pussy.

He pushed a gloved finger inside and twisted it around before pulling it out. He filmed the clear fluid coating the latex on his finger with a smile.

Junpei put a hand on your thigh, spreading your leg wider and pulling you towards his hips until his cock was looming over your crotch.

Proceeding to film you, he placed his hand on your bleeding chest. He covered his fingers with the blood and used it to smear it around his cock. The condom turned an ugly orange as the plastic rubbing on plastic made a disturbing squeaking noise.

He ran the tip of his cock across your slit and pressed it against your entrance, filming it closely as he pushed himself inside of you.

You tensed and yelped as his cock tore your hymen. It continued stretching your virgin walls until his entire length was buried in your pussy.

For a brief moment, Junpei stilled, he took a deep breath to adjust to your virgin walls squeezing him before he started to move.

“W-wait.” Your tongue felt foreign in your own mouth, it was swollen, most likely bleeding as well.

He listened or you thought he did. You thought it was over, finally, the torture was over- but you didn’t realize the wicked smile on his lips.

Junpei pulled his hips back and slammed into you abruptly. Your mouth opened in a silent scream as he set a pace for himself. His eyes were on your tits, they moved each time he moved his hips, it was almost as hypnotizing as watching his cock disappear into your body.

The pain of your hymen being torn past forgotten, your toes curled involuntarily at his cock stroking a nice spot.

“Stop, please!” Having your tongue being swollen made you sound weird like you were slurring.

“Why? Why should I?” he laughed, voice full of mischief as he lifted the camera up to your face. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Blinking past tears, you turned your face away.

He laughed louder at your reaction before asking a question, “So, how does it feel to be fucked by some loser your brother likes to bully?”

He snapped his hips forward to force a moan out of your pretty lips. Junpei mercilessly humped your pussy, forcing your walls to take the shape of his cock. “Does it feel good?”

You sobbed loudly. “No-”

He cut you off by pounding into your pussy, forcing another moan out of you. “Come ooon, say it feels good!”

“No,” you cried.

“Say it feels good!” he yelled into your face.

“It feels so good!” you croaked in fear, sobbing uncontrollably.

Junpei stilled only for a moment, he stared at you in admiration and used one hand to push your leg to your chest. He buried his cock deeper inside of you, quickening his pace and fucking you frantically, putting his entire weight behind each thrust.

Your walls clenched around his cock and almost immediately he came inside the condom, dropping the camera from the way his orgasm took over his senses, leaving him trembling.

You didn’t remember him pulling out of you nor did you remember him unlocking the anklet but there was a phone being held up to your face now.

It was… your phone.

“Hellooooo?”

A familiar voice was laughing.

This part. This was the plan.

At that exact moment, you felt furious, rage filled all of your senses and you wished he was right in front of you so you could stab him with a knife, rake the blade repeatedly along his neck and let him die bleeding.

What you felt wasn’t only rage and anger but murderous intent. You wanted to kill, something you never thought you would feel like you would lust after at any point of your life.

Someone as passive aggressive as her wanting to murder someone, kinda ironic and poetic. Junpei made that happen, he’s proud of it.

“(name)? What’s up? How are the hot springs with your friends? Ya having fun?”

Junpei was smiling as your face contorted into something vile.

He did it. He broke her.

You pressed your lips together and spoke through your teeth to sound clear. “You pathetic piece of shit.”

I wanted to use curses and vulgar language in this scene because it’s just so incredible how much she blames her brother for everything that happened here. It’s all his fault, Junpei made sure to make her think that way. She believes it.

It got quiet before your brother’s tone softened. “Did something happen?”

“I wanted to believe that there was good inside of you but I guess I was wrong.” Your voice was clear and understandable but your entire body was buzzing with hot tremors of rage. “You’re a fucking disgrace, I hope you die. Die, die die! Kill yourself before I kill you myself, you hear me?!”

Heartbreaking to hear someone you deeply treasure talk to you this way. It’s the worst possible punishment. Junpei did it. He won.

“(name)?” His voice wavered as if he was ashamed. How cute, he was already feeling guilty. “I don’t know what happened but you can always talk to me if your friends are causing you a problem-”

“The problem is you! Die! Die! Die! I want nothing from a pathetic excuse of a brother like you! The problem has always been you, I will never forgive you not until I watch you die miserably, not until I watch you get lowered in your grave!”

You were panting by the time you were done.

“Where are you?” he asked hesitantly. “I’ll come to get you right now, it doesn’t matter how far away you are.”

The brother is so desperate to make everything right. Whatever that happened to his sister that he’s not aware of does not matter. He wants his little sister back. She’s the only thing he treasures and we know this. If he loses her, it’s over for him.

“I don’t wanna talk to him anymore, get the phone out of my face.”

“Is there someone with you?” your brother quickly changed his tone to sound more masculine. “Tell them to give me your address.”

You see how quickly he changes?  He cannot show that loving and caring side because he feels inferior. He must be the best at all times.

Junpei leaned forward to speak to the phone with a sinister smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll call her a taxi in the morning.”

Silence.

A gasp.

“Jun?”

“Yeah?” Junpei couldn’t hide the smile in his voice.

Can you imagine the way he must feel? The bully comes to realize that his sister is with the guy he battered on the daily. The guy he humiliated every single day.

“I’m going to kill you,” he hissed. “Whatever you did to her, I’ll do it to you-”

“Oh, I did everything you did to me to her. Don’t worry about that.”

“I… I am going to beat you to death.”

“Alright, I’ll post your sister’s sex tape now then. It has her face and everything. She even says her name and age, how gullible is that?”

It took your dumb brother a long moment to realize how he had been chased into a corner.

“But I bet he doesn’t care, right, (name)?” Junpei was laughing hysterically. You didn’t answer. “He’s so selfish after all!”

“What do you want?”¨

The brother is helpless. The bully cannot win. He has lost everything. By that I mean everything. The thing he treasured the most and now he’s guilty, he feels the guilt he has never felt before. He only realized his mistakes after he lost the thing he loved the most.

He had finally won.

Junpei sighed dreamily before he answered honestly with his eyes landing on you.

"I already got what I wanted."

Here, some people interpret it as him winning the girl for some reason??? Lol he meant it the way she hated her brother and helped him get the revenge he desperately wanted.

~~~

Living a life without the fear of being constantly battered by a bunch of losers was nice. It was quiet and peaceful, as expected.

It was worth it.

Junpei was happy. He had even gotten himself a girlfriend. Someone gullible and weak.

She stayed. There might be many reasons. But not a single one is romantic. It could be because she wants to punish her brother even more and this is an act of self harm. 

It could be because she thinks they’re the same and she doesn’t hold him accountable for the things he did. It’s now his fault because it was his brother who forced him to do it, right? 

It could be because Junpei blackmailed her.

And many more.

My favorite interpretation and the reason she stayed is that she feels attached to him. They went all through that together, she knows he is insane but who isn’t? They both lost their humanities in that warehouse. They both lost their innocence in there, they became lifeless and learned how similar they were. No matter how toxic and unhealthy it is, it’s enough to sprout a false sense of security and bond between them. 

They’re together because they’re the same. Broken and outspoken.

The revenge was sweet, being the victor of a fight for power made him more confident and less of an outcast.

ALSO here is the ending I had planned but didn’t post. TW for suicide

This was the ending I had before but my editor said it was too dark and it would be better to leave the ending open so the readers could interpret as they wanted.

“What do you want?”

He had finally won.

Junpei sighed dreamily before he answered honestly.

~~~

Living a life without the fear of being constantly battered by a bunch of losers was nice. It was quiet and peaceful, as expected.

Junpei was happy.

The revenge was sweet, being the victor of a fight for power made him confident, less of an outcast.

It even got him a girlfriend. 

“Did you hear?” you asked, grinning.

“Hear what? Even the neighbors heard your moans from the other night-”

You hit him jokingly and intertwined your fingers together. “He tried killing himself again.”

“By hanging?” he asked curiously.

“Slit his wrists horizontally and bled out slowly until one of his roommates found him,” you hummed, pouting. “Meaning… You owe me twenty bucks.”

“Ahh, dammit. Where did you hear that? How can I believe he didn’t hang himself this time?”

“I got a call from the hospital.” You stuck your tongue out walking closer to him. “They asked me to visit him.”

“You’re gonna?” He raised a brow, his expression on his face was terrifying. The answer to this question was important. 

Sweat droplets started forming on your forehead and you chuckled nervously, not wanting him to hate you. “I don’t wanna.” You quickly started dragging him down the street, “Come on, we’re gonna miss the movie.”

“They always play the trailers in the first ten minutes-”

“I  have to buy snacks with the twenty bucks you’re gonna give me!”

Your laughter was like music to his ears. Junpei let you drag him wherever you liked as his mind was clouded by his thoughts.

He wondered when would that guy actually find the courage to do the easiest thing anyone could ever ask him to do. He better kept his promise if he wanted Junpei to keep his.

Junpei almost laughed thinking about what kind of face your brother would make if he found out that you stayed with him because you were both the same, that it was you who chose to stay.

Ahh, that would be a funny sight to see.

Lmao very funney. The way how they just trying to get revenge on the brother and waiting for his death and literally betting on it. It’s childish and insane but that’s how they are. The brother made them become this way.

NSJhbleujh,bgf,

Anyway yeah, that’s it. 

I love this fic.

Last Words

Writing this was fun, it’s my favorite fic I’ve ever written or at least so far. I had fun playing around with Junpei’s personality and trying to ‘justify’ his actions. I was proud of myself for writing a conflicted protagonist, conflicted because you don’t know if you’re rooting for him or not.

Also, the piss scene. It was the money shot. The fucking money shot man. I was literally trembling as I wrote it, the personalities, the tension and the way they both interpret that interaction as two different things. It was the first raw interaction between them.

This is the song I listened to writing Junpei. It’s The Ballad of Costa Condordia by Car Seat Headrest. Amazing song for a character who’s going insane slowly. An outcast being bullied and losing their will to live, wanting to die and missing the good old days when they didn’t need to worry about anything but what mom was cooking for dinner. It’s my own theme song if not Junpei’s.

Anywayyyy, I don’t think I can ever write anything as good as this or enjoy writing  something as much as this.

That’s it, thank you for reading!!!

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

My childhood Gandalf story

Okay, so, as some of you may know, my mother knew this wizard long before I was born. She was told she was infertile by doctors, and was obviously pretty distressed over this, however, Gandalf told her to “not worry”, because I would be born in a few years (he predicted the month, year, what I’d be like, etc)

Fast-forward 19 years later, and I track down Gandalf myself, as I would like some insight into my own future (after all, who better to tell me than the guy who predicted my birth?)

I arrive at his front door, and after knocking, here appears who I thought to be Sir Ian McKellan himself, except he has no beard nor pointy hat. I must’ve been staring for five seconds straight before he spoke, as he truly looks like Gandalf.

Now, after inviting me into his home, the things he told me about my own future...

Overall synopsis: he basically told me who I’m going to end up as, and who I’m going to marry, and guarantee you guys will not guess the answer.

There’s a lot he said, so I’ll break it down for you.

First off, he knew right off the bat that I write fanfiction, which is, of course, humiliating, but he told me to not worry, as one of my own books one day will sell well after publishing—not the first time, but the second time round.

He picked up on some psychological things early on. At one point, he was like, “Ah, I can see you feel as though you are undeserving of love.”

So then I just sat there like:

“That’s great, Gandalf...but can we get to the part where you tell me about my epic adventure to come??”

He then went onto tell me a “big journey” was coming up for me, of which would be overseas, and very influential to my life. This is 100% true, as I am moving overseas soon (late 2021-early 2022) to the Isle of Tasmania to undertake further studies and work.

Regarding my studies—he informed me that I have an although undeveloped, very strong gift for picking up or touching old objects, where I can then learn about its history through touch alone. I’m studying to become an archaeologist, and I told him so immediately after. He got kinda satisfied, and drew out one long Gandalf-esque, “Indeed...makes sense for your soul, and your gift.”

He told me about my later partner in life, who I’ll settle down with in about ten years. They’re apparently very nautical, and have a deep passion for the seas. This is fantastic, because I myself cannot live away from the ocean. You’re doing well already, future husband 💍

All of a sudden, he then pauses, and looks around the room as if someone has just entered. He smiles knowingly, and says to me, “You’ll be having two sons with your husband, too—twin boys, in fact.”

OF COURSE IT’S TWINS, AS IF ANYONE IN THE TOLKIEN FANDOM CAN ESCAPE THE CONCEPT OF TWINS (I’m either gonna birth Elrohir/Elladan, Elrond/Elros, or Amrod/Amras—fucking rip my body—LITERALLY)

Now, regarding myself, he says I’m going to be in a very powerful position one day, and very well-respected.

There’s a lot more he said, but to break down even more in simpler terms:

I have a gift for learning about an artefact’s past by touching it—psychometry, it’s called. It explains why I’m attracted to old objects, and desire to be an archeologist—a maritime archeologist in fact, which is the study of pirates and ships. I always thought I just had an overactive imagination when touching really old things, like archaeological artefacts! (Relating this back to Tolkien, Mairon’s ring, hint hint)

I’m going to marry a sea-loving sailor of some sort, who I’ll have two twin boys with. My husband will be very secure, passionate in his work, and more hands-on than anything else—resourceful and practical, a “doer”.

I’m going to be very powerful one day, in a very powerful position.

In said position, I’ll be super well-respected.

Apparently, my life is going to be incredibly interesting, with many adventures—he was very intrigued by my soul, and can’t wait to discover more about me.

So, basically, what I’m hearing is, I’m going to grow up to be this woman:

And marry this man:

Yeah, I’m pretty okay with how this is all turning out so far.

That concludes it for now, but there is a lot more to learn. This was just the tip of the iceberg, he said.

Nonetheless, I have a big journey ahead of me, and now have the Gandalf to my Frodo :)

[incoherentbabblings]

Tim gets himself turned into a cat for a week and is forced to stay at Stephanie's until the spell wears off on its own. Honestly, it's not as traumatic as it sounds. For Tim.

“I refuse to take responsibility,” Damian said. He was holding a glossy short haired black cat with a long face and sharp features. It had big bat ears and lovely big blue eyes whose pupils dilated when Stephanie looked at it. Damian held it out for Stephanie to take, lower legs dangling from a slim body. Its tail whipped from side to side, irritated.

Apparently, it was Tim after one ill-informed altercation with that magician villain who the Teen Titans and the Flash fought occasionally.

Stephanie smiled tightly to the point where Damian thought she was in physical pain.

“Do you want to come in? Have a cup of cocoa maybe?”

“Not even slightly. I have a litter box and some compostable wood pellets for litter,”

Oh my God –

“and father insisted that someone within Gotham care for him until this passes whilst he is off planet. Zatanna says it will end on its own in a week and is less likely to end in permanent brain damage than trying to reverse it artificially. More brain damage than Drake already –”

“Yes, Damian, I get it.” Stephanie sighed, pouting as she inspected Tim, still patiently dangling in Damian’s outstretched arms. “Do you understand us Tim?”

The cat – Tim – yowled in a way which sounded partly like a Siamese cat and partly like an car engine struggling to start, but Damian shook his head.

“No. His brain has shrunk to the size of a peanut. Apparently, he will remember nothing, which is good, all things considered.”

Stephanie frowned, then leaned down directly into the cats eyeline.

“Would you rather stay with me over Damian?” she asked it, regardless. “I guess it makes sense, mom is visiting Florida for the week…” she mused out loud, feeling supremely stupid.

Tim yowled again, and his pupils impossibly grew bigger.

Groaning, Stephanie conceded. “Fine, but –” wasting no time, Damian practically tossed the cat into her arms. She caught Tim clumsily, and he meowed in distress, scrambling up to cling to her shoulders.

“Ow, ow, ow! Claws. Claws, Tim ow!”

She held him tight under his little bum, and as she watched Damian run back to the Alfred chauffeured car for the bits and pieces she would need. Stephanie turned, leaving the front door open, and went upstairs to her room. Tim clung to her tightly, little claws making an imprint in her skin. When she reached her bed she leaned forward, letting him turn on his own and land on his feet in the centre of the mattress. He plopped down, sitting perfectly straight with his tail still swishing, and watched her as she proceeded to help Damian move all the pieces of kit inside. She placed the litter tray in the bathroom, wondering briefly about those YouTube videos she’d seen of cats using the toilet could be applicable. She sighed as she sat the plastic tray down, wiggling little wood pellets a couple of inches deep. Tim had come over to join her in the door frame. He looked up at her, and she looked down at him.

“Tim, I’m going to be scooping up your poo and pee. You better give me a big boon when this all over.”

Tim mewled, and to Stephanie it sounded like a bargain had been struck. Damian handed her a plastic bag filled with cat food – whatever Pennyworth did not wish to eat he explained – then left her to it.

“Do not let him go outside.”

“Yes, Damian.”

His round cheeks puffed up, and the bridge of his nose turned red like it did when he was embarrassed.

“Thank you, Stephanie.”

Somewhat mollified, Stephanie said he was welcome and then Damian and Alfred were gone. Shutting the front door, she turned around to see Tim sitting on the stairs, watching her.

Stephanie jumped, unnerved.

“How much of your peanut sized brain is like… at human level smartness?” she asked.

Tim sat quietly for a moment, watching her with those unnatural icy blue eyes. His tail, disproportionately long, smacked against the floor with a heavy thump.

“None then. Well, still, let me know when you want feeding. Or bathroom breaks so I can clean it up before it stinks out the house. I have to work on college. So… go take a nap or something. You probably need one.”

Tim blinked, stepped down the stairs, went through to the living room, sat on her sofa, and rested his head down. Like the cat he was, he was soon asleep in the late afternoon sun.

Stephanie followed him curiously, peered over the back of the couch, admiring his glossy coat then shook her limbs loose.

Just another day in the life, she told herself.

Having her ex-boyfriend slash transmogrified cat living with her for a week. Sure. Cats were distant creatures, and so were her and Tim in recent years. They could get through this week, surely.

Oddly, having another creature in the house made her feel more lonely.

 *****

 Tim had enough self-awareness to realise he was in fact a cat, but also not enough self-awareness to realise that there were certain behaviours he should not indulge in.

Nobody believed him that he could understand what was being said, so he decided to just go with the flow for the next six days. Abdicate all responsibility. Be feral. Receive the occasional pat on the head. All in good fun. Bizarrely, he was enjoying the drama of it all.

The first issue came about at dinner. He had woken from his nap with a hunger that he had never in his eighteen years (did that make him around two years old in cat years?) of life felt before. It was as if he had not eaten in weeks he was starving he was voracious he –

Needed help in opening tin cans.

Dammit.

Honestly, Tim would have been feeling much more humiliated and more willing to jump out of a window to end it all if he was not so sure that he would instinctively land on his feet.

Just a week. And Stephanie would take care of him, loathe as he was to admit it. She would find it uncomfortable and painful with each interaction, so he would take great care in staying out of her way. Things were awkward enough between them without the knowledge that she was going to have to brush him and feed him and clean up his poops and hairballs (he loathed how easily the concept of grooming came to him). He didn’t need to inflict anymore grief on her than she had already reluctantly accepted.

None of this stopped him from being very hungry when he woke up. He needed food. Preferably ten minutes ago.

He leapt down with a solid thud from Stephanie’s sofa, shaking his head to clear any remaining nap time fuzziness, then plodded upstairs. To his own ears, it sounded very cheery.

She had left her bedroom door slightly ajar, and Tim slid in. She did not hear him enter on account of her having a giant pair of red headphones blasting music at far too loud a volume to be good for her hearing. Or rather, he assumed they were red. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that his vision had been altered. Shades of red and green blended together in assorted shades of yellow and brown, and even the blues of the world was washed out and pale. Everything had a slight blur to it, especially for objects further away. When he had first been held up to Stephanie, he realised that the blue of her eyes now seemed almost grey, and her skin was sickly. Of this change, Tim hated the most.

She was leaning over piles of notes, hands stained with highlighter and pen ink. Tim noted her expression and found he did not like it.

She looked very sad.

He meowed to try and get her attention, but with her music playing as loud as it was, she did not hear him. Drastic measures were needed. He would soon be dead from starvation before too long.

He slinked up to the side of her chair, noting the convenient space between her lap, chest and desk. He looked up at her, yowling one more time to try and give her warning, but she did not notice.

Tim blinked slowly. Her eyes were wet.

He leapt up onto her lap, fully expecting her to shriek, to lift and throw him across the room reflexively. However, she just gasped gently, surprise quickly fading, and laughed. Good. The wet look in her eyes vanished with genuine joy. She paused her music, clumsily taking off the headphones and setting them on the desk. She adjusted her lap so Tim could sit more steadily and rested her hands at the base of his back and tail, scratching absentmindedly. He chittered at her and she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“What?” she whispered conspiratorially. Oh, she was enjoying this. Tim grumbled, body vibrating, then hopped up another level onto her desk. With a purposeful tap, he smacked her wrist.

“What is it you little goblin?”

Rude. Tim yowled, and paced back and forth. Stephanie huffed, reaching to pick him up and put him down. When she turned, she saw her alarm clock on her bedside table. It was six o’clock.

“The time?” Her eyes widened with realisation. “Oh? Dinner time?”

His loud, drawn out meow made her wince, but she nodded all the same. “Alright then sir, come on. Let’s see what we can do for you.”

He merrily leapt down from her arms, jogging away down the stairs to the kitchen. Jumping up on the counter, he pawed insistently at the food still in the plastic bags Damian had brought. Food. He needed food. He was wasting away; why couldn’t she see…

“Right, what did Damian gift us with… Oh. Biscuits huh?”

Tim froze. Cat food. He was going to have to eat cat food.

He was a cat. But not that much. He was finding it difficult enough to imagine going in that litter box in not too long. He quietly made a little meow, distressed.

Stephanie opened the bag, and the smell of dry crunchy biscuits filled the air. Tim visibly gagged, and Stephanie quickly resealed the container.

“Yeah, I agree there Timbo. I can’t give you the wet food either, that jelly is disgusting... but your stomach can’t handle human stuff. You’re a carnivore now bud.”

She hemmed and hawed, opening assorted cupboards, looking for something suitable. Tim meowed mournfully. He was going to starve unless he ate the biscuits, but he so did not want to eat the biscuits.

“Oh!” Stephanie chirped, pulling a tin down. She held it up to him for inspection. “Tuna in spring water. That’ll do, right? But how much…”

Tim paced frantically back and forth as she googled portion sizes. Starving, starving, he was skin and bones, no chance for recovery. It had been eight hours since he last ate, how did she expect him to –

She placed a shallow dish in front of him, half of the can placed sweetly in front of him. She then placed down a small glass bowl, filled with fresh water. Uncaring of his dignity, he began to eat voraciously.

Stephanie leaned on the counter, watching him do so.

“I’m sorry there’s no milk. I heard cats are actually lactose intolerant, so just water for you this week.”

Tim ignored her, so delighted with the taste of fresh tuna that the lack of milk was so far down his list of priorities. It was only when Stephanie, in an apparent act of madness, reached down and ran a hand from his temple all the way along his back to the tip of his tail did he look up. Somewhere in the back of his little kitty brain, he noted that his muscles had tensed up, rising to the pressure of her hand as it made its way down his spine to make the contact firmer. Her hand was warm. He looked up from his feast, confused.

She was still smiling, but it looked melancholy to Tim.

“I don’t think you can actually understand me,” she said quietly, half speaking to herself. “Which is pretty expected for us. I think it’s just the fact that you’re a vocal kitty who isn’t going to remember anything in six days’ time. Which is just as well. I can tell you all my secrets then?”

Tim wanted to protest her falsehoods but found the taste of tuna too distracting.

Stephanie continued, “I’m going to go on patrol now. There’s been a monster of a case I’m getting nowhere with. I’m having another go tonight. Don’t sleep on my bed when I’m away okay?”

Tim wanted very much to yowl, to let her know that he could understand, and to ask her why she was being so mopey. It seemed more than just a sadness over his situation. He wanted to explain that, honestly, he was fine with it. Well, not fine. But he had endured much worse. He knew it was temporary, he knew things would return to normal soon, and he was warm, looked after and almost looking forward to a week’s peace.

So what if he was a slightly goofy looking black cat who had the sudden urge to lick himself clean every few minutes? In the grand scheme of trauma he had undergone in his short life, shitting in a box was pretty low on the list.

He tried to tell her it was fine, only to drop tuna all over the counter. In a fumbled attempt to clean up after himself, he licked the surface clean. Stephanie groaned, then rose away from him.

“Enjoy the evening Tim. Don’t bother me when I get back. Don’t puke anywhere.”

Tim, in fact, did not puke that night. He did use the litter box however and hated it. He tried very hard to make as little mess as possible, ensuring all the litter stayed within the box. He was here because of Stephanie’s good nature; he was not about to blow it.

He did, at around 3am, however, experience what he had heard Selina refer to as ‘the zoomies’. It was a frantic pent-up energy that he did not know how to expel. The only way that came to mind was to dash across the house in a desperate attempt to tire himself out so he could return to sleep. So, he ran, up and down the stairs, leaping off the banisters and hopping over chairs and coffee tables. He did so, bored out of his mind, until he saw the lights of her vehicle pull up. He ran up the stairs in time for Batgirl to crawl through her window. He sat patiently in her doorway, waiting for the right moment to greet her, when he saw she collapsed to the floor with a distinctive and heartrending cry of pain. His little heart pounded painfully at the sound, but he did not move.

He watched as she cursed up a storm, correcting her position so she could take off her costume piece by piece. She did so wincing, crying out, and swearing with each painful movement. If she had someone to help her, she would have been able to get ready for bed in much less agony. Whatever she had dealt with this night, it had been rough.

She crawled around on the floor, apparently unable to walk now that the adrenaline had worn off. She remained in her shorts and sports bra, and without showering, crawled into bed. Tim watched as she reached into her bedside table, pulled out two painkillers, and like a baby, swallowed them with some water from a sports bottle that stood nearby.

He thought he heard her very quietly cry to herself, but that couldn’t be. Stephanie did not cry. His hearing had been different since the transformation last night, sounds and noises did not compute the way they used to. The sound she was making very quickly stopped though, and instead Tim heard her very determinedly whisper to herself,

“Always better in the morning.”

It wasn’t a philosophy he completely agreed with. Sometimes the morning just brought clarity of the previous day’s horror. But her odd breathing stopped, and soon it was replaced with the deep gentle snoring of someone sleeping. Finally, Tim moved. He wanted to curl up next to her. Stephanie was warm, and he had discovered recently that he liked warm places. He wanted her hand to stroke him again.

But no. She had said to stay off her bed for sleeping. She has asked him not to bother her. She certainly would not be happy to find him sleeping next to her. Tim tried to remind himself that he was only getting away with certain behaviours because of his size, and there were some boundaries that he should not cross. What if she woke up in the morning, only to find that the spell had worn off early, and there was a naked human Tim Drake in her bed?

Oh no. That would be very embarrassing.

Besides, he didn’t have that kind of relationship with her anymore. He didn’t have the right anymore to insert himself into her space. They had decided not to pursue it. Not good for her, she’d said.

Tim could no longer remember his own reason. He suspected it was moot after she had become Batgirl.

And yet… she’d been crying. Tim wanted to help her. How could that not be good? Surely if he could provide comfort, if he wanted to provide comfort, she would allow it?

He turned away, not liking the way it felt like turning away from someone calling for help and returned to the living room sofa. He curled into a ball, and slept until the morning, whereupon the hunger pains hit him once more.

And so, a routine began. Tim would yowl like he was dying outside Stephanie’s door, reluctant to intrude whilst she slept. Eventually, Stephanie would emerge, ready to feed him chicken or another half a tin of tuna. He was not so secretly delighted at the way her eyes lit up with humour when she saw him, spinning in circles unable to contain his excitement, though Tim would note locations of bruises that had not been there the night before. She was struggling, it seemed.

She would then go take a shower, clean out his litter tray with a pithy comment, then go to class, leaving Tim bored until she would return after four, ready to clean his litter tray once more, provide dinner, then spend a couple of hours doing homework before leaving again for patrol. She would return at first light, looking more defeated with each passing sunrise. She would be smiling come the morning, but – even with a brain the size of a monkey nut – Tim saw it was shallow.

It did not escape Tim’s notice that she was going out of her way to avoid him. He understood it. She did the same thing when he was human. He would call for her help from time to time with a case, which she gave without reservation, just as she had done now for kitty him, but rarely, if ever, did she call for his aid.

Her stubborn independent streak had not abated with time it seemed, even when it came at the price of her safety.

That and she just seemed sadder than usual. Or was this usual, and he was just never around and allowed to view it?

His tiny mind whirled and churned, and with no outlet, he stewed, glaring out the window at passer-by’s and their dogs.

Regardless, on the fifth night, after hearing her stilted heart-rending sobs and half-hearted and self-inflicted words of comfort, he decided to break the one boundary she had set.

He jumped up onto the bed, moving until he had clambered on her sternum, then folded down into a loaf position. Stephanie tensed, unsure what game he was playing, until she felt him begin to purr.

She laughed brokenly, more of a whimper than a genuine expression of joy and reached up to scratch behind his ears.

Tim purred louder, to her delight.

“I’m having a bit of a rough time,” she spoke quietly in the dark, as if reluctant to break the thick, dark blanket of warmth and comfort. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be a burden.”

Tim gave a small ripple of a meow in response. She was not a burden.

“I can’t get a crack on this case,” she explained. “I make a dent, get hurt in a fight and am fine in the morning, but then so are they. I’ve hit a wall. But I have to do it alone. Bruce and Babs expect me to now… I have to…”

Her voice broke and she cut herself off. She smiled crookedly, painfully trying to dispel her sadness. Tim began to make biscuits. He didn’t understand why, but he thought the pressure would help. She was a little furnace beneath him, and he purred loudly, drowning out her shaky breathing.

Stephanie chuckled at the sensation of his little vibrating chest. She ran a hand down his back again, enjoying the smooth coat. Contradictorily once more her eyes became wet.

“Do you think, when you are back to normal, we could talk? There’s…there’s no-one else who would understand. Though I think I’d make Cass sad if I told her that. But I miss you. And I think it’s my fault.”

Tim shifted upwards, until his nose rested under her chin. He continued to purr loudly, nearly trilling with the force of it. Steph nuzzled in close and kissed his forehead and flicked his large ears.

“Silly boy. I hope you don’t remember this. You’d hate me for it.”

Tim meowed grouchily. How she could lie to herself like that…

They’d burned their bridge long ago. He knew this. And him being a cat for a week was not going to mend it. But it made his heart ache like nothing else to see her despondent. He silently promised himself that he would extend an olive branch before the end of next week. They couldn’t continue like this, tip toeing around each other with Tim occasionally stepping too close and making Steph flinch back away.

She wasn’t flinching away now though.

She picked him up so she could sleep better and set him on the pillow next to her. Turning on her side, she reached up and placed a soft, warm hand on his shoulders, rhythmically petting the fur there.

Her quiet sniffles died off, Tim’s purring acting as a lullaby, and she fell asleep before the sun rose.

Throughout the night he shifted closer, until he was practically resting on her head. He rested his chin on the crown of her head, her long golden hair acting like a silken pillow, and kept guard for the rest of the night.

 *****

 Stephanie awoke to her nose being licked. She opened her eyes blearily, and realised it was Tim cat. She blushed, remembering what had transpired last night. She told herself it was fine, opening up like that. It was only a cat. It was only Tim. Tim, who would be blissfully ignorant come the evening. Though that reminded her, she better lay out some clothes for him. Her mother was coming back at some point in the next forty-eight hours. The idea of her walking in on a naked Tim would cause a conniption.

She smooched Tim’s head, and he meowed cheerily at the wet smack, and continued to press up against her.

She had kept her distance at first, struggling to reconcile Tim with the little sleek gremlin cat meowing at her feet. It felt weird, so she – for a lack of a better term – ignored him. He would be so angry when he changed back, she wanted to avoid anything which he could extrapolate from the week as her being mocking or patronising.

Bruce’s anger she had learned to ignore, Tim’s she hadn’t figured out a knack for yet. It hurt, in a physical manner that she could not explain. Like he was kicking her in the gut again. She found herself actively taking steps now to avoid it. Avoid the concept of it.

But she was exhausted, physically, and emotionally. Years ago, when she would reach such a state, Tim would somehow figure it out and slink in through her window or take her on a quiet date. The two would hold on to each other, and let Stephanie catch her breath and perspective with a warm pillar of support behind her.  

Despite Tim now being a cat, it seemed he still had this perception, and had sought her out to give comfort. Weird how animals could sense those sorts of things.

Fuck it, she thought. It was the last day, she was feeling miserable, and there was a perfectly cuddly vibrating fluff ball in her arms, who showed no signs of irritation and instead was offering comfort that she didn’t get much of in recent years. She was going to milk this for all it was worth. Maybe she could take some photos and videos later – humiliate or blackmail Tim later. All in good fun, of course. She never wanted to genuinely upset him.

She continued to give him sweet pecks on his head back and sides, which she thought he liked, as he meowed and headbutted her.

“Sweetie,” she praised, and she picked him up to cradle him properly. He flipped over, being held like a baby, as she continued to croon, “Last day as a kitty. Tomorrow you won’t remember a thing, and we won’t be able to talk like I am now… isn’t that sad? I think we should spoil you today. Lap of luxury and all that. It’ll keep my brain busy, if nothing else.”

He pawed at her chin, and she kissed his toe beans.

She spent an embarrassingly long amount of the day starfished on the floor, playing with Tim. He was a chatty little cat, more so than he ever was as a person. His meows sounded like a revving engine and were as long as he could hold his breath. He was graceful though, despite his lanky limbs and giant ears. He leapt from surface to surface and straight into her arms with seemingly no effort, and whenever she let him roll out of her embrace, he landed neatly on his feet every single time.

Stephanie couldn’t help it, but when she pulled out a little laser from her Batgirl belt, she recorded Tim’s feral delight, chasing a speck of red across the house. She laughed more than she had in a long while, partly because it had been so long since she had seen anything so unabashedly goofy as Tim as a cat, shaking his little bum, pupils dilated larger than dinner plates, in preparation to jump a red point of light.

It was delightful and made her wonder if she could convince Crystal to adopt a cat once she returned. Poor Tim, he’d have no clue what he’d endured come the morning, but at least in that moment, he seemed happy.

When it reached eight pm, Stephanie sighed, realising she had another night of patrol to face. Selfishly, she wanted to linger, to keep company with the cat, but she quickly shook that thought off. People needed her. She wanted her case over and done with.

“One last go,” she whispered. “I can do it tonight. I’m nearly there.”

Tim hopped up onto her lap and she was sliding on her gloves. She chuckled lightly and scratched under his chin. He purred, craning his neck to allow her better access.

“I’ll lay your human clothes out for you on my bed, okay? If it’s not fixed by the time I’m back… I’ll put you in your boxers and jeans and hopefully come morning…” She got up, hoisting Tim to rest on her shoulders, and tugged one of the plastic bags Damian had left for her. To her growing dismay, she realised there was only a pair of underpants. She looked sideways, Tim peering over her left shoulder. “Oh dear, Tim. Damian really is out to get you, huh?”

He chuffed, like he was grumbling to himself. She pecked him once more, and he meowed more firmly, hopping off her shoulders as she made her way to rummage through her wardrobe.

“I don’t want my mom to come back and find you in your undies in my room and me being AWOL. That would just be one step too much for her, I think. I still have some baggy sweatshirts…pants though… pants…”

She tossed clothes haphazardly, at one point burying Tim under a pile of bras and underpants that she shrieked at, loudly and joyously, when she realised what she had done. Eventually she found a pair of jeggings which she hoped would suffice. Tim looked almost suspicious. If he had eyebrows, they would have been raised.

“You have skinny legs,” Stephanie justified, feeling insane talking to the cat. “It’s fine. Just until the morning. I’ll drive you back and no-one will see your shame. Not even Damian. We’ll sneak. Promise.”

She carefully laid out the clothes, and shoved what she had carelessly tossed out her closet back in with equal zeal. Pecking Tim once more on the head, she moved the litter box into her bedroom and shut the door.

“I can’t have mom coming back to a half naked boy in my living room and a box of used kitty litter. You’ll have to stay in here. Hopefully, I’ll be back before she is. She said she’ll drive the whole way and not stop. So, maybe by seven in the morning? Fingers crossed.”

She opened up the windowsill, slinking her leg over. Tim hopped up on her desk, as if to follow her out.

“Uh-uh,” she warned, pressing on his wet nose firmly. “You have to wait here. Damian made me promise you’d stay inside. I can’t risk losing you.”

She caught herself speaking more desperately than she intended and shuddered. “You know what I mean. Naked boy CEO found running through the streets of Gotham is not the kind of attention the family needs right now. Be good, Tim. And thank you. You cheered me up so much today.”

One more kiss, then she was out the window, sliding it definitively shut. As she mounted the bike, Tim perched himself at the windowsill, watching her shoot off down the street.

When she was out of sight, he jumped down and paced endlessly, stressed and worried. She had been struggling so much with patrol, and he was unable to help her. Feeling utterly helpless, he jumped up onto her bed and settled on her main pillow. Curling up into a ball, he settled in to wait, praying that she would return home safely, and before Crystal arrived back.

He awoke, briefly, when he felt a soft pair of hands lifting him up. He chirped and chuffed, and it was Stephanie hushing him. She wrapped him up in his boxers and sat him next to her under the covers.

She was smiling, albeit a tired smile.

“I did it,” she whispered, scratching his ears. “Tim, I did it.”

Tim meowed a congratulatory chitter, and Stephanie smiled wider.

“Sleep now. I’ll explain more in the morning.”

In an act which utterly took Tim off guard, she pulled him closer, curling around him in a crescent moon shape. Under the covers in the dark, surrounded by her scent and soft breath, Tim began to purr once more.

 *****

 “Steph? Steph…”

Stephanie grumbled, then opened her eyes when cold fingertips pressed against her cheek. Looking at him with an expression Tim could not decipher (relief? Disappointment? Fright?) Stephanie inspected Tim up and down. He had put on his boxers and her sweatshirt but had yet to touch her trousers. Nevermind. He was kneeling on the floor next to her bed. According to her clock, it was just after six in the morning.

Right, Tim needed context.

“I suppose you are very confused right now… Being in my room in your undies… so let me explain—”

She yawned then, arms emerging from her duvet to stretch dramatically. Tim watched the muscles in her neck, then chuckled to himself.

“No, Steph. I remember.”

“Oop.” She froze, watching him anxiously, like an antelope faced with a lion. “Everything?”

“Everything.” He then snorted defiantly, “despite what Damian insisted, I was still me. Shockingly, he is not omnipotent.”

Chewing her tongue, Stephanie narrowed her eyes, not having it at all.

“Oh c’mon, you are lying out your butt.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! There’s no way you’d lower yourself to chasing my laser pen across my living room. Oh gosh, Tim, it must have been horrible…”

Tim shrugged, making a noncommittal noise.

“Maybe I wanted to catch that point of light, huh?” he teased. He then conceded, “Maybe I had a bit of trouble keeping cat me and human me straight in my head.”

“Yeah, that I believe.”

“But honestly, having a week where my biggest concern was whether I was getting tuna or chicken for my next meal was sort of refreshing.”

“I can find a way to turn you back if you like.”

“Hmm. Pass.”

Stephanie giggled, but cut off abruptly when Tim shuffled closer. She felt herself grow cross eyed as she watched him move in so intimately. Tim’s warm breath blew over her as he continued,

“Yeah well, having said that… You mentioned that I helped you. Cheered you up.”

Tim’s teasing look softened, and in that moment looked at Stephanie with such unabashed and unfiltered affection that she felt incredibly self-conscious. Tim was only in his boxers and her sweatshirt, and she was only in a baggy nightgown that she had tossed on when she had arrived home; the first time in weeks she had been uninjured enough to change her clothes.

“Maybe,” Tim continued, “I wanted to see you smile. You were so sad all this week… I needed to help you. Even if it was as dumb as chin scratches – as good as they felt – and chasing lasers. I… I heard you crying, Steph.”

Her arms came down from their stretch, and rested on his shoulders, fingers gently stroking back and forth.

“I’m okay,” she promised, like she was the one comforting him.

Tim’s eyebrows furrowed. “I could have helped you before now.”

There was no chiding in his tone, only pleading, but it made Stephanie feel guilty, nonetheless.

“I had to do it alone.”

“No, no you didn’t. You don’t have to be alone for anything.”

“You’re such a big softie.”

Tim laughed gently, “With you, sure.” Taking a deep breath, he moved even closer until he was practically leaning over her, tips of their noses touching. “Steph… I need to ask you something.”

Stephanie nodded, eyes growing damp. “Shoot,” she whispered, voice cracking and betraying the nonchalant words.

“Could we –”

Crystal opened Stephanie’s bedroom door, and the pair froze. Instinctively, Stephanie raised an arm with a shocked cry, slamming Tim in the face. He wheezed and shot up into standing, which only proved to give Crystal a good view of him in his underwear and daughter’s clothes. Looking somewhat dazed and yet unsurprised, she looked to Stephanie for whatever lie of an excuse her daughter could conjure up.

“Mommy!” Steph cried out. “I did not hear you get back. How was Florida?”

“I was being quiet since it was still early,” Crystal grumbled, unamused by Stephanie’s glib tone. “But then I heard talking.”

Crystal glared at Tim, who fidgeted, finding no dignity in any pose he maintained. Stephanie scrambled upwards so she was sitting, thankfully she had managed to put on pyjamas last night, and clambered for some excuse, any excuse.

“Tim was… It’s not… ”

Seeing her daughter fail to come up with some vaguely plausible non incriminating reasoning, Crystal turned to Tim, glaring holes through his head. He would crack in a way that Stephanie would not.

“Why are you here, Tim?” she demanded.

“I… I…” Tim began to shiver with nerves, face flushed red and eyes bright with panic.

“Where are your pants?”

Tim choked on air. “…I don’t have any. With me.”

“And no shirt either?”

Tim very much wished the ground would swallow him up.

“No.”

Stephanie groaned, throwing herself face down into her pillow. “Good job, Tim.”

“It’s the truth, Stephanie!”

Crystal’s fingers twitched on the door handle, and Stephanie could see one of her pressure headaches building, like a throbbing in her mother’s temple.

“You know what – just leave Tim. And we won’t discuss it again.”

Tim would take that and run. At least this time he wasn’t being chased out of a house with a shotgun like Ariana’s uncle had done.

“Sure. Sure. Can… Steph. Can I borrow your phone?”

“So someone can come pick you up?” Crystal snorted. “What? Don’t you have shoes either?”

Tim realised if Crystal had her way he would have been forced to run back to the manor. Death at this point really would have been preferable. Weakly, he just stated, “No, Mrs. Brown.”

Stephanie spoke at her mother and into her pillow, unable to look the embarrassing situation in the eye.

“Mom, please. The guy’s dignity has already been shot. Please don’t make him walk back to Wayne Manor in his tidey-wideys. I can give you a lift Tim, I said I would.”

“No, no,” Crystal insisted. “I’m sure you’ve done enough Stephanie.”

Stephanie shrieked, muffled but distressed. Dramatically, with exaggerated movements, she removed her phone form under her pillow and unlocked it without looking, then tossed it up the air. Tim scrambled to catch it, then dialled for the manor. Crystal stood aside, indicating it was time for Tim to leave the room. He looked back to Stephanie, still buried in her bed sheets. It was a look of desperation on his features that made Crystal feel almost guilty for separating the pair, but honestly, she did not trust her daughter, and she did not trust Tim, however soft spoken he may have been.

When Tim exited the room, Crystal shut the door with a definitive slam behind him. Turning back to Stephanie, she saw her daughter’s shoulders shaking with quiet crying. This only served to befuddle Crystal more, but before she could say or do anything else, a shallow container on the floor by her daughter’s desk caught her eye.

“Is that a litter tray?” she asked, confusion reaching fever pitch.

Stephanie raised her head to stare at her mother, eyes wet and pout overwhelmingly sad.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth.”

 *****

 “Alfred washed it. Got rid of all the cat hairs.”

Tim held up the blue sweater for Stephanie to take on her doorstep. She took it reverently and inhaled deep. Alfred always used an excess of fabric conditioner that made clothes smell lush. Tim, for his part, looked apologetic.

“I’m sorry you got drawn into all of that. I’m sorry I made you and your mom fall out.”

Stephanie said nothing, keeping Tim on the doorstep as she set down the sweatshirt. When she looked back to Tim, closing the front door behind her, she was struck by the thought that he seemed much younger than eighteen. He was scuffing his feet on the concrete, hands behind his back, like a bashful child.

“It was all because I was careless with Abra Kadabra and it bit me in the butt and Damian didn’t want to have to deal with me so he burdened you with it. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t a burden,” she replied quietly. “I liked it. The last day.”

“Oh,” Tim blushed, looking anywhere but in her eye. “Me too. For what it’s worth. Honestly, it was actually really nice. Relatively. In context. You know. In a not creepy way.”

“It must have been a bit weird. Like, don’t pretend it wasn’t. All that chicken and tuna you ate for one thing…”

Tim chuckled to himself, finding something very funny.

“Yeah my digestion has been wild the past week and... too much information. Sorry.”

Stephanie tried to catch his eye, but Tim kept his head stubbornly down. His feet must have been very interesting.

“You… you were going to ask me something, before my mom walked in,” she pushed.

He coughed, choking on nothing but his nerves.

“Was I?”

“Tim.” She reached out and took his hand. Tim flinched, then relaxed and finally gathered the courage to look her in the eye. She smiled, beautifully, always beautifully, and he squeezed her fingers.

“I’m sorry if it took me being turned into a cat to actually ask.”

“That’s okay. It happens for people like us. In a way I think it puts things into perspective. So, please ask.”

“You…” 

He stared at her, admiring her, before finding words couldn’t do the job well enough. Instead, he leaned forward, meeting Stephanie who was also moving closer, and the two kissed on Stephanie’s front doorstep. She broke away with such a delighted laugh that Tim chuckled himself.

“Ask me,” she insisted.

Tim shook his head and kissed her again. Falling back against her front door, the two made out for a moment too long before Stephanie regained her senses. She pushed him back, laughing louder and more hysterically.

“Tim! No! You need to ask!”

Another kiss, this time accompanied by him picking her up and swinging her in a circle. Finally, Stephanie gave up and held him tight. Tim made a noise that she could only describe as a chirp of delight in response.

“You’re a little gremlin,” she muttered into his mouth. “Cat or otherwise.”

[hotchley]

“sometimes you do everything right, everything exactly right, and still you feel like you failed”

morehotchcontent day two: whump (in a hostage situation/hurt on the job)

tagged: @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety

why should the team look for him? he was nothing. he would die for them, because they were his team and they deserved the world. but he was not the world. he was just one broken, old man and they could do better. they could do so, so much better than a drill sergeant, sexist, narcissistic bully.

an unsub kidnaps hotch. in his mind, he isn’t worth saving.

warnings: torture (choking, forced to choke on water, caning, punching, stabbing), depictions of violence, implied/referenced child abuse, non-consensual removal of clothing, references to the events of george foyet, references to tobias hankel and reid's torture, references to ian doyle and what he did to emily

read on ao3!

Hotch had taken one look at the case-file and immediately known it was going to be a bad case. The victims had all been kidnapped and tortured, before being dumped in the local park, stripped down to their underwear as a form of humiliation. A word- always a personality trait- had been carved into their back.

For the BAU, it was pretty standard.

For Hotch, it was like looking at a mirror. All the victims fit the same criteria, which on the one hand he was grateful for because maybe it would mean they would find the damn unsub without any more bodies appearing, but on the other hand made him want to be sick.

The victims had all been the leaders of their respective teams. The first was the manager of a supermarket, the second a senior partner in a law firm, the third a headteacher. He had no idea what the fourth was. He’d read it, but without ever really processing the words.

But their subordinates hated them. Deemed them bullies, narcissists, dickheads, evil bastards. When they’d been informed of the deaths, not a single one had cried. One had laughed. They had all been relieved enough to be considered suspects.

He looked out at the bullpen. JJ was sat with them, sat on the edge of Reid’s desk as she laughed at something Emily- Agent Prentiss, he corrected mentally- was saying. The case had come directly to him, the file lying on his desk as though it was mocking him because the previous day he’d told the team it was likely they’d be spending the weekend at home.

Morgan was watching the scene unfold with a wide smile, yet his eyes darted round the area, always watching over the other members of his team like it was his duty. Not for the first time, Hotch wondered if he should have stepped down permanently. Morgan had done well as Unit Chief. And he wasn’t hated by the team. They didn’t look at Morgan and think of a boring, misogynistic, horrid narcissist. They looked at Morgan and thought of a protector.

He sighed. Part of him wanted to ask Rossi to inform the team they had a case but that was just being unfair. It was his stupid comment about getting to spend time at home that had undoubtedly landed them in this situation. The least he could do was own it. At the last moment, he decided to read through the casefile one more time. It would give JJ enough time to finish showing them the pictures of Henry at the beach.

When JJ tucked her phone back into her pocket, he stood up. Took a deep breath and exited. Almost immediately, the laughter stopped and they all turned back to their reports. JJ slid off the table and started to head back to her office. Hotch tried to disguise his hurt as indifference and he knew he’d succeeded when Reid swallowed and Morgan looked disappointed.

It had been five years since Tobias Hankel, and yet nothing had changed. The team still hated him. Cases still ruined their everyday life.

“We have a case. Roundtable in ten,” he said. The rest of the words wouldn’t come. Because if he said more than the bare minimum, he would reveal too much and they would hate him even more than they already did. It was bad enough that he was everything they’d called him, but it would be even worse if they realised just how weak he was.

He went back up to his office to pack things away and send a quick text to Jess and Jack, before he realised that they’d benefit from having Garcia with him. He had always wondered what Garcia really thought of him, but he’d always been too afraid to ask. A part of him liked to think she liked him, but that was impossible.

JJ thought he was a bully, and when he thought of the number of times he’d snapped at Garcia for not being fast enough, he understood. Morgan considered him a drill sergeant, said they weren’t friends, and he was always breaking up their fun, teasing comments. It didn’t matter he was doing it for professionality, that was one of their only reprieves and he was constantly taking it from them. Prentiss accused him of not trusting women as much as men, and there had definitely been times when he’d looked at Garcia and felt the urge to ask where she’d got the information from. Reid told Hankel he deserved to die because he was a narcissist. How many times had he asked Garcia to look at the worst of humanity, knowing she was too good for that?

Garcia never told him what his worst quality was. He’d heard enough by the time it would’ve got to her. Jason had opened his mouth, probably to tell him to stop, but he’d had enough. He wished he hadn’t stopped him. Maybe if he’d known, he could’ve changed and then Gideon would still be with them and Reid would have someone who was actually competent as a father figure.

It was with a heavy heart that he took the elevator down to Garcia’s lair. As he’d passed through the bullpen, he saw the haggard faces of his team, and he wondered, not for the first time, how many more crime scenes they could suffer through before their hands stopped going cold and they lost their humanity.

He knocked on the door, once, slightly hesitant.

“You don’t need to knock Kevin!” Garcia called out.

Hotch swallowed the lump in his throat. Yet another relationship he was ruining. He coughed once before saying it was actually him.

Almost immediately Garcia flung the door open. “Sir! I didn’t realise it was you. What is it?”

“We have a case. And, well, I’d like you to come with us. It’ll be easier,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Of course! Just give me sixteen minutes to pack my stuff and then I’ll be up, okay?”

He nodded, then the Southern manners kicked in. “Would you like any help?” he asked, slightly hopeful that she’d say yes.

“Oh no, of course not. It’s much simpler if I just do it myself. I know where everything goes and it’s just easier.”

“Right. I’ll err, I’ll see you in a bit then,” he said, trying to not take it personally. Garcia probably wouldn’t let anyone touch her computers or equipment. It wasn’t just him. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t sure he’d survive it. He was about to exit when she called out his name and he turned.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay? You’ve seemed distant recently. And normally I wouldn’t comment, but I’m worried about you. You know you can talk to us? Any of us. I know the others weren’t particularly fond of Haley, but you didn’t have to be a profiler to realise you loved her.”

He started fidgeting, stuffing his hand in his pocket as he brushed his thumb over his fingers.

If Garcia noticed his discomfort, she didn’t comment. “It doesn’t matter that you got a divorce, you still loved each other. Recovering from that is hard. Add in the fact that you’re going back to the same job, and it’s a recipe for disaster. What I’m trying to say is: are you okay, and do you want to talk about it?”

He wanted to say yes. He so desperately wanted to hug Garcia, fall apart in her arms and confess all his fears to her. He wanted to tell her how ever since Hankel, he’d hardly been able to look at the team, or how the list of people he’d failed to save- Elle, Jason, Kate Joyner, countless innocent victims, Megan Kane, Haley- seemed to be growing with every breath. He longed to finally tell someone who horrifying it was when Foyet was in his apartment, how he could hardly look in the mirror without gagging, how he had blinked because he was human. He wanted to say that there were nights where he couldn’t comfort Jack because how dare he touch his son with the same hands that had killed a man?

But he couldn’t. The only value he held as a member of the team was being stoic. Unshaken. The one that dealt with the politics, played bad cop, spoke to Strauss and the higher-ups, dealt with unruly lead detectives without flinching. If any of them knew just how choked up he got every time Strauss asked to see a report, how every case that involved him playing the role ended with him sat in the shower, water numbing his body as tears rolled down his cheeks, they’d cast him out.

And he would have nothing.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Just a little tired. Jack was keeping me up. He’s excited about starting school soon.”

Jack had kept him up, but not because he was excited about starting school. Because he was scared he was going to come home and daddy wouldn’t be there.

“Wow. I remember when he was just a little baby coming in to visit. Back when the Reid effect was still a thing.”

Hotch faked a laugh, ignoring the bile that was rising in his throat. He didn’t want to think about that. How the team had done nothing more than be polite, all stood a respectful distance away, as though he was poison. Or how just minutes after he said goodbye to Jack and Haley- who was still happy and in love- they were called out on a family annihilator case.

“Yeah. The time has gone by so fast. I’ll let you pack up,” he said, needing to get away from the lights and brightness.

“Oh, of course. I’m so sorry,” Garcia said, as though she had only just remembered why he’d come down.

“You have nothing to apologise for Penelope,” he said, before closing the door behind him.

Forty minutes later and they were in the air.

JJ was on the phone to the local P.D, convincing them that releasing any sort of information to the public, especially the name of a suspect, would not be beneficial to the investigation. Hotch wanted to intervene because it wasn’t fair that she had to be fielding their phone calls when she should be resting, but he didn’t want to overstep so he settled for keeping one eye on her and the other on the casefiles.

When they landed, JJ said that the local PD had wanted them all to head straight to the precinct, so they piled into the government SUVs. Hotch tried to not let it sting when Morgan sighed before getting into the passenger seat. Once upon a time, he would’ve said they were friends. But now he knew better. Morgan had only wanted him around because he could lead the team. But after Foyet, he’d proven that he couldn’t even do that, and that Morgan was clearly the better leader.

Why he was still on the team was a mystery to him.

“Miss Jareau, hello. I’m Sheriff Finkelstein, we spoke on the phone?” the sheriff greeted.

“It’s Agent Jareau, Detective,” Hotch corrected, voice betrayed his tiredness.

JJ looked over in surprise. She could have sworn she saw him drift off.

Hotch wouldn’t meet her eyes. He corrected people when they called Dr Reid agent. Of course he would do the same for the rest of them, regardless of what their opinions on him were.

“Of course, my apologies, Agent Jareau. We’re very grateful to have you here, we’re completely in over our heads. Our lead detective just took early retirement as his wife had a baby and he wants to be at home with the two of them- an admirable decision- but it just means that we’re now overwhelmed and still looking for a new lead,” Finklestein explained, leading them to one of the conference rooms. He held the door open for the ladies, who all gave him small smiles.

Hotch tried to nod. Yet another person who’d managed to do the one thing he had failed at. If he had taken the transfer, or left when Jack was born, then Haley would still be alive. There would be a tan line on his ring finger from where his wedding ring sat.

“Do you have any clues who it could be? It’s a very specific MO and victimology, which should help us narrow things down,” Morgan asked, always eager to get straight into things.

Sheriff Finkelstein sighed. “Unfortunately not. There’s no DNA anywhere. All of the team members have been questioned, and although they all hated their respective bosses, there’s no indication that any of them would’ve done it.”

“We’d like to see the recordings of their interviews,” Rossi said.

“And if I could have a map of the area to start creating the geographical profile, that’d be great,” Reid added.

“Whatever you need,” Finkelstein said, leaving.

Hotch left with him to gather some of the extra information they needed. The team- bar Morgan and Rossi, who had left to go to M.E’s office, were skimming through the files created on each of the members and their victims.

“I’m not saying they deserved it, but these men were disgusting,” Emily commented.

“Prentiss,” Hotch warned, but he knew she was right.

She stared at him, daring him to go further. He dropped his gaze and walked over to Reid. “How’s that geographical profile coming along?”

“Well it’s interesting. See, their workplaces are all the ones in red. The places in blue are the last locations they were seen in- which is another common factor actually because they were all in restaurants, cafes and takeaways which is actually similar to a previous case we solved so I may look into that to see if there are any links- and I’m doing that rambling thing again aren’t I?”

“You’re okay,” Hotch said, not wanting to cut Reid off when they didn’t really have a time crunch.

“No I’ll just get to the point, we all have more important things to be doing. Look at the area where the victims work and then where the unsub takes them. They’re all within five minutes of each other. Our unsub probably work somewhere where they can watch their targets from, otherwise how else would they be able to find them?”

“We need to deliver the profile,” Hotch said.

Two days after they delivered the profile, and the unsub still hadn’t been found. Garcia’s tech skills had given them a suspect, but he’d been out of the country during the last murder. Since the development with the geographical profile, they hadn’t been able to find anything. Hotch had felt like someone was watching him since they landed, but he hadn’t said anything, not wanting to distract the team.

Morale was low. Patience was running out and tempers were going to be lost if there wasn’t a break in the case. Officers had started joking with each other in the macabre way only people that dealt with these things on a regular basis could that they were lucky none of them were evil as the station was extremely close to the other workplaces, bur Finkelstein had shut them down almost immediately.

Hotch had cried in the shower that night. Reid had wanted to say something, but ultimately refrained because it was Hotch and Hotch didn’t blink; he’d be okay.

So things weren’t going great, and the team were exhausted. They needed a pick-me-up.

Hotch picked up his jacket. “I’m going to get us food. Does anyone have any specific requests, or is donuts and coffee okay?”

“You’re going to go?” Prentiss asked, a little confused. Hotch had gone yesterday. It was supposed to be Reid’s turn.

“Yeah. I am. Reid’s busy, and it’s not fair to ask him to go and it’s unfair to get someone else to go because they’ve all be running themselves into the ground. And before you say it, I’m not saying that you haven’t, because you have,” Hotch said, his own temper also fading. He was trying so hard to be good, to not treat anyone the way his father had but the lack of progress, combined with the way Emily seemed to get off on undermining him, even now, after everything that had happened, was beginning to wear on him.

“Hotch? Are you okay?” JJ asked, entering with another stack of files. As it turned out, the town was full of white males in their mid-to-late 20s that worked jobs where the person in charge had a bit of a dodgy history, and they were still trying to narrow it down.

“I’m fine. Any requests for dinner? I’m probably going to go to that café because Reid will want coffee as soon as he gets back from the workplace with Morgan, and Rossi likes their croissants but I don’t mind making another stop if you want me to,” he said.

JJ smiled at how well her boss- well, family member- knew their team, and also at how willing he was to go out of his way for all of them. But her smile faded when she took in his appearance. The circles under his eyes were getting worse and his suit seemed to be looser. She knew Reid was having trouble sleeping as the fifth anniversary of his abduction approached, and she knew Emily was still struggling with her place on the team in a world without Doyle, but their trauma was not Hotch’s responsibility. She just wished he would stop blaming himself.

“Surprise me with something from the café. But are you sure you should be the one going?” She didn’t tell him it was because he looked exhausted; she liked her job.

But she had her back turned to him. She didn’t see him clench his fist, rubbing his thumb over the nail of his index finger in a self-soothing motion. She didn’t see the tears form in his eyes.

“I’ll be fine JJ. Tell the others I should be back in thirty minutes,” he said, voice cracking slightly as he fled.

“Is something going on with him?” Prentiss asked.

JJ shrugged. “Jack mentioned him being unwell right after you came back, but I thought he was doing better now.”

Emily watched the space where he’d been previously stood. “I just wish he would talk to us. He has to know we love him and wouldn’t think any less of him for struggling.”

JJ nodded in agreement.

Hotch was driving, unable to focus on the road properly. He knew his team thought they were being subtle with the way they hated him, but he was a profiler. He knew JJ was only questioning whether or not he should go because he was just like all the other victims and it had been a week since the last body was found, meaning there was bound to be another abduction soon.

It wasn’t going to be him. He wasn’t deserving of even that attention.

“Oh hello again. I was wondering if I was going to see you again,” the barista said when he entered.

Hotch noted that there was nobody else there. “I’m so sorry, is it really close to closing time? I saw that the light was on and I just assumed it was okay.”

He laughed. Hotch shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

“We’re still open, don’t worry about it. What can I get for you?”

“It’s another long order,” Hotch warned. The barista just shrugged, used to it. When Hotch was done, he took a brownie out and warmed it up.

“This is on the house because you look like you need it and your order will take a bit of time,” he said, sliding it across the counter.

Hotch stopped observing the artwork. “I couldn’t possibly-”

“Yes you can,” the barista said, his tone so much like JJ’s when she was mother-henning them all that Hotch silently took a bite. It was a good brownie. He took a few more bites, wincing when his head started to feel fuzzy.

“Do you like it?” the barista asked.

“It’s really good. But my head- I have- my head feels, not right,” he whispered, vision starting to blur as well.

“It’s not supposed to,” the barista responded, jovial tone gone.

The world went black.

The first thing he noticed when he came round was that he couldn’t move his arms. Or his legs. He struggled, unable to see what had happened to him as his eyes were taking forever to adjust to the darkness, but there was no movement to be had.

He was tied to a chair. He struggled even more, but his bonds held.

“You’re awake.”

“You,” Hotch whispered. “It was you the whole time.”

“Yep. And my name is Jonathan. You would know that if you had just bothered to read my nametag,” he said.

Hotch scanned the room, searching for anything that would act as a weapon. There was nothing. He tried to calm his racing heart and think logically but he couldn’t. The last time he’d been this vulnerable was under George Foyet. George Foyet who had destroyed all feeling in the lower part of his stomach, who had killed Haley, who had made damn well sure Aaron would never be able to look at himself without seeing the victory on Foyet’s face right before his eyes fluttered shut from the blood loss.

“I’m sorry for forgetting,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even.

Jonathan slapped him across the face. Hotch recoiled as much as he could, not making a sound. It was always worse when you made a sound.

“Stop lying to me. I know who you are. I know how you people work. You think that if you convince me that it was all just an honest mistake, then I’ll forgive you and let you go running back to your team. Well I won’t and nothing you say will make me change my mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Hotch whispered. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Jonathan scoffed, slapping Hotch again. Both his cheeks were red now. “You’re all the same. You do one small thing for your team, and you think it will make up for the lifetime of pain you caused them. Well it won’t.”

He turned. Hotch tried to see what he was picking up, but he couldn’t. Before he even realised what was happening, pain blossomed in his stomach. Above him, Jonathan bought the cane down again, and again, and again.

Tears were streaming down his face now. “Please, stop. Please, I’ll do anything, just stop with the cane.” He hated begging. He hadn’t begged since he was a child. He hadn’t flinched when George Foyet fired a gun at him. But he wasn’t that man anymore. He was tired now. More tired and more broken that he’d ever been before.

Jonathan laughed. “Okay. I’ll stop. But I’m going to release you from the chair, and you’re going to raise your arms high enough for your hands to touch that chain on the ceiling. If you fail, I’ll cane you till you’re curled into a ball, begging for mercy.”

Aaron was half-delirious now, but he managed to follow the instructions given.

When Jonathan ran the cold metal of his knife, the same knife he’d used with all the other victims, down his cheek and across his chest, Aaron flinched. Minutely, but he flinched.

Jonathan smirked. “Normally I killed them quickly. I made them die quickly because they didn’t deserve to live. But you, you I want to have fun with.” He cut down the centre of Hotch’s shirt with one clean cut. Aaron closed his eyes, unable to look at the scars.

“My, my, someone must really have hated you,” Jonathan laughed.

Hotch didn’t respond. Jonathan pressed the metal to the scar over his chest. Hotch jerked at the coldness, straining his arms even more.

“You’re a bad man Aaron Hotchner. I’ve been watching you since you landed. You’re very bad. Do you want to know why you’re bad? You’re a bully. I saw the way you shouted at your technical analyst over the phone because she wasn’t fast enough.”

Hotch hadn’t meant to shout. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to remember it.

“Oh are you ashamed now? You don’t get to be ashamed. Open your eyes.”

Hotch shook his head.

Jonathan wrapped one hand around Hotch’s throat and pushed down. Hotch opened his eyes, panicked as he tried to inhale. He relaxed his hold then.

“Good boy. You shouted at her. And then you undermined the blonde one by taking over her interrogation. And the other one by interrupting her conversation with the officer. Sexist pig.”

The plan had always been for him to take over. The officer had been making Prentiss uncomfortable with his flirting. Hotch tried to say that, but Jonathan just laughed, then punched him in the stomach. Claimed those were just lies they told him to protect themselves so they kept their jobs.

“You tried to control their every move. You wouldn’t let Mr Strong do the right thing and come look for me. Drill sergeant. You cut off the baby because you needed to speak, acted like you were better than him. Like you were better than all of them.”

“I’m not a narcissist,” Hotch protested.

Jonathan dropped the knife, opting to punch him in the stomach again. Hotch let out a groan. “That’s what they all say. It’s been half an hour. They’ll be expecting you back now. I wonder what will happen when you don’t come back. Will they look for you? I think they will. Not because they love you, but because they’ll be afraid. What if you’re the one to survive? What if you escape?”

“They won’t come,” Hotch said.

Jonathan, who had gone back over to the table, turned. “What did you say?”

“They won’t come,” Hotch repeated.

Jonathan stormed over, holding a bat. Before Hotch could prepare himself, he was hitting him with it. In the knees, across the back of his thighs, everywhere that would cause the most pain. Hotch didn’t want to know what the crack he’d heard when that bat had hit his ribs was.

Jonathan liked the bat. When he heard the crack, he grinned. And then he Hotch over the head. For the second time that day, the world went black.

“He should be here by now,” Reid said, pacing up and down the conference room. “It’s been fifty-seven minutes. The journey should have taken an average of thirty minutes, forty with traffic, but it’s now after eleven when there’s virtually no traffic on the road.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Reid. There was probably some cute barista he got stuck talking to. You know how Hotch is. Never knows when people are flirting with him, and then when he does realise, he gets stuck in an awkward conversation,” Morgan said, but it was all an act. He knew there wouldn’t be a cute barista. But for the sake of Reid, he had to stay strong.

“Look Aaron wouldn’t want us to worry. In twenty minutes, we’ll go back to the hotel. And if he’s not here tomorrow, then we’ll start to investigate okay?” Dave said.

The others nodded, all feeling uneasy, but having the utmost faith in their leader.

Their leader that was still unconscious, Jonathan having moved him to the floor. The back of his head was coated with blood. He almost looked like Haley. But Haley had looked peaceful in her coffin, face void of any expression. Aaron was in pain, despite not being awake.

Jonathan didn’t try and force him to wake up. Aaron Hotchner was going to be his masterpiece.

“Is Agent Hotchner not with you?” Finkelstein asked once they got to the precinct.

They all turned to each other. Dave immediately dialled his cell.

“Voicemail,” he said.

Emily turned away, not wanting to think about the last time his phone had gone to voicemail. She still couldn’t get the image of him, so weak that he couldn’t even sit up without assistance, his face so defeated as he said goodbye to the one good thing in his life, out of her mind. It haunted her nightmares more than Ian Doyle did.

“We need to find him,” Morgan said.

“I’ll have Garcia track his phone,” JJ said.

She tracked his phone to the coffee shop. There was nobody there. No signs of a struggle. Nobody outside had seen anything strange or suspicious.

When Morgan and Rossi returned, faces grave, Reid excused himself. When he returned, his eyes were red. JJ hugged him, words not enough to convey how sorry she was for everything that had happened between them. Emily watched, biting her nails. Hotch had put everything on the line for her multiple times. He didn’t get to go missing like this.

Jonathan was bored of watching Aaron sleep. He kicked him in the stomach, grinning when he let out a soft groan of pain, but managed to open his eyes.

“Morning sunshine,” he greeted.

Aaron tried to flinch away, but found his legs and arms were bound. His head was pounding, his ribs ached, his stomach was bruising from where Jonathan had kicked him and there were angry welts from where the cane had struck.

“You’re a bastard,” Hotch spat, trying not to panic when blood splattered onto his clothes.

“You give me the sweetest compliments, I’m starting to wonder if you really are like the rest of my victims.”

Hotch tried to glare up at him.

Jonathan laughed. “And then you do things like that, and I remember that you’re all the same. You know, I wanted to have a conversation about what you said earlier, but now I think I’ll save that for tomorrow. There’s a few things I want to do before then.”

Hotch had choked on water before. It wasn’t pleasant. But having it forced down his throat was worse. He couldn’t keep swallowing it, and most of it ended up on his shirt. That angered Jonathan. It led to more pain. More torture. Hotch couldn’t feel anything though. He didn’t think that was a good thing. A part of him was holding out hope that the team would find him, but with every passing moment, it seemed to fade slightly.

Why should the team look for him? He’s nothing. He would die for them, because they were his team and they deserved the world. But he was not the world. He was just one broken, old man and they could do better. They could do so, so much better than a drill sergeant, sexist, narcissistic bully.

There were no windows where he was being held. But at some point, Jonathan forced him to eat. And at some point later than that, he told Hotch to get some rest as the next day was going to be big.

Hotch closed his eyes, but he did not sleep.

Nor did any member of the BAU. A whole day of searching and there were still no clues that would lead them to Hotch. Nobody had been reported missing either, which meant either nobody cared enough about the person that had been kidnapped or the unsub was developing a new pattern. Either way, it wasn’t looking good.

Rossi forced them all to get some sleep. He told himself that if they got Aaron back safely, he would make sure that man knew just how much he was loved by all of them. He would finally tell Aaron how he had always viewed him as the son he’d lost, and how he had never once regretted returning.

Morgan knew his relationship with Hotch would never be perfect, but at the end of the day, they were a family. He would spend the rest of his life convincing Hotch that he deserved all the happiness in the world if he needed to, as soon as he’d lectured him about being an idiot.

Garcia was already planning what she was going to make for him. She remembered when she had first started in the BAU, and Hotch had been the only person to treat her like an actual employee. They would eat lunch together because neither of them really had any friends within the unit. Morgan and Reid were still trying to adjust to her, and Gideon had always loved Reid more than he loved Hotch, which had made her sad.

Reid couldn’t lose another father. He lay awake, thinking of stories that he could recommend for Jack. He wanted to be in his own bed, where he could look at the constellations on his ceiling. Hotch had somehow found out about his fear of the dark, but instead of mocking him, he said he’d understood. A day later, he found glow in the dark stars in his bag with a note from Hotch saying he wanted to see a picture of the constellations he made.

Reid had returned the favour after Foyet.

JJ held Emily and they both hoped that he- the man that had already lost so much and struggled through it all for the sake of their band of misfit profilers- would come home safely.

“Rise and shine Aaron,” Jonathan said, throwing a bucket of water over Hotch, who immediately jerked awake as he started to shiver.

“What’s going on?” he whispered.

“You’ll see. But first, I need to make you a little bit more… presentable, shall we say?”

Hotch knew better than to hope that would mean a change of clothes. Jonathan removed the rope around his hands, but only to slide Aaron’s shirt off his shoulders. He pushed down on the bruises, only stopping when Hotch gasped.

“They’re going to be distraught,” he commented, punching Hotch in the face.

His eyes immediately started watering. Jonathan punched him again. Hotch recoiled, feeling the blood drip from his nose. He was dead weight now, but they had been right in assuming that their unsub was incredibly strong. He pulled Aaron into the chair before tying him up, bloodied and beaten and bruised and broken.

Hotch saw the camera.

And he suddenly understood what Jonathan meant.

“No,” he shouted, voice hoarse.

But it was too late.

“Hello Agent Hotchner’s team. I apologise for not knowing your first names, but Aaron only ever used your surnames. Maybe he wanted to detach himself from you all. Let’s see. Ah, the whole team is there! I don’t actually know who you all are, but that’s no worry. I bet you’re trying to work out where he is. It’s not going to work. You should watch the show instead. I bet you really want to see your fearless leader.”

Jonathan stepped back to reveal Hotch.

Morgan had to put his hand on the screen to stop Garcia from closing it. Reid whimpered, JJ shouted, Rossi cursed loudly. Finkelstein grabbed a whole bunch of officers and told them to do whatever it took to find that man.

“Now, Agent Hotchner talks in his sleep. Did you know that? And he’s said some quite interesting things. But first, we’re going to unpack something he said to me on our first day together. Do you remember what that thing was, Aaron?”

Aaron looked up at him, dazed. “No,” he whispered.

“You told me, they weren’t going to come and get you. I killed four people. All of them laughed and told me their colleagues, or their friends, or their families would find them. You didn’t. Why? Tell me. Tell them. They’re all watching.”

Hotch closed his eyes, needing to ground himself. When he opened them, tears were pooling in them, threatening to spill. “They already failed once. They didn’t- we had a case. But they never found me. I didn’t answer my phone, but they didn’t come looking until it was too late to save anyone. They failed to save me once. Why would they try now?”

Garcia was crying. She was trying to find him, but the unsub was right. It was impossible. They’d already dispatched officers to the man’s work and home addresses, but they all knew it was just a formality. They weren’t going to find anything.

“He’s right. We didn’t find him. We should have gone the moment his phone went to voicemail,” Emily said.

“That’s in the past,” Rossi said. “We need to focus on now. Where is he, now? How are we going to save him this time?”

“He’ll send us a message. Some sort of code. He has to,” Reid said, intently watching the screen.

Jonathan looked at Hotch for a few long moments. And then he took the knife he was holding and he cut one deep line from Hotch’s knee to his ankle. Hotch begged for mercy the whole time, but it never came.

“How tragic. Did you ever wonder why they didn’t try?”

“I’m not worth saving,” Hotch whispered.

That caused Jonathan to pause. “What?”

“I’m not worth saving. I’m a narcissist. A bully. Drill sergeant. I have trust issues, I don’t trust women as much as men and they don’t want to be my friend,” Hotch said.

Rossi frowned. “Kid, what’s the message? I don’t get it.”

Reid was shaking. “I don’t- I called him a narcissist when Hankel told me to choose someone to die but I didn’t mean it. I didn’t, I said it because I knew he would understand. He never puts himself above the team. But when I said that it gave away my location. There’s nothing with what he just said. Nothing. I don’t even know where the other things came from.”

Prentiss pressed her hand to her mouth. “He genuinely believes that. He’s not lying. I know his tell. He’s not doing it. He’s telling his version of the truth.”

Rossi turned. “What do you mean he genuinely believes that?”

All three of them swallowed, unable to form a response.

“When Reid called Hotch a narcissist and then quoted the Bible, Hotch went off. He told everyone to say what his worst quality was. And in the moment Morgan called him a drill sergeant. JJ said he was a bully. Em said he didn’t trust women as much as men. He cut them off after that and it was never addressed. I told- when we got back to Quantico, I told him he didn’t wear casual clothes enough and he- he smiled,” Garcia explained.

Rossi had never been so angry at his family. “Why would you say that? You know what he’s like. You know how personally he takes things. It doesn’t matter that it was just in the moment, he needed to hear it from all of you that you didn’t mean it.”

Prentiss lunged forward. “Aaron,” she shouted. When Hotch turned slightly to face the camera, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Aaron, it’s Emily. I know you’re not sexist. I know that you trust me just as much as anyone else on the team. I promise. And Morgan loves you too. JJ doesn’t think you’re a bully. We love you, but we need you to help us. Please.”

Jonathan turned to face the camera too. “Stop ruining all the fun, Emily.”

Emily flinched. Jonathan said her name like it was something dirty, but Aaron had only ever said it like it was something to be cherished.

When Jonathan slapped Hotch, Reid closed his eyes.

“What do you think Aaron? Do you think she’s correct? Are you worthy of their love? Or are you exactly like the other victims, maybe even worse?”

Hotch shook his head. “I don’t know. Please, I just, I don’t know.”

Jonathan picked up the cane. Hotch curled in on himself as much as he could. For everyone else, it was like watching Hankel torture Reid all over again. When the cane made contact with Hotch’s stomach, the sound he let out made the tears in Rossi’s eyes fall.

“I think I’ll let you all struggle for a few hours before the grand finale. But, I am nothing if not generous. Aaron, is there anything you want to say to them?”

He looked directly at the camera. Not even Morgan could look into his eyes, so full of pain and anguish. “I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry for everything. I’m- I never meant for any of you to become so damaged and I am so- I will spend every last minute making up for the pain I caused you, but please, just, please forgive me. Forgive me. Please.”

Jonathan ended it all. There was no way of tracing them.

Reid repeated the words to himself. He needed to find the clue. He needed to work out what the message was. He refused to believe there wasn’t one. Morgan and Rossi slipped into their respective leadership roles, commanding everyone and barking orders. Garcia’s fingers were like lightning, she was finding everything she could on Jonathan. JJ dealt with the media, who wanted to know exactly what was going on. Prentiss flitted between the various groups, offering support. It was weird. Coming back had felt like coming home, but then there were moments like these where she wasn’t sure she’d ever been part of the team.

Hotch was confused. He knew Emily’s tell. She couldn’t hide it from him. He’d been searching for it as she spoke, but it wasn’t there. Which would imply she was telling the truth. But that wasn’t possible. He couldn’t let himself believe it was possible. Only, there was no other logical discussion. Maybe they loved him. Maybe they cared.

“What are you?” Jonathan hissed.

“Their friend,” Aaron whispered, momentarily forgetting where he was.

Jonathan kicked his bare foot. Aaron winced.

“No, you aren’t,” Jonathan said. “You’re a narcissist. You’re a bully. And a drill sergeant, and a sexist prick. I’m assuming- by the looks on their faces- the blonde with glasses and the old man never said anything against you. But I think I know what they would say. You’re rude. And you’re a failure. So what are you?”

“A narcissist,” Hotch replied. But he knew that wasn’t the truth. They were going to find him. They were going to save him, somehow, because that was what their family did.

Dave saved him by offering him the spot. He saved Penelope from a life of crime. Penelope saved Emily from doubting herself too much. Emily saved Jennifer from carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Jennifer saved Spencer from thinking he wasn’t worth loving. Spencer saved Derek from getting too cynical. Derek saved Dave from getting too cocky. And the cycle continued.

Reid was pacing, wringing his hands, still mouthing the words to him. Everyone else had stopped because there was nothing left to do.

Without warning, Reid turned and punched the wall.

“Spence!” JJ shouted.

Reid stared at his hand, where blood was now covering his knuckles. Shaking, he fell to his knees, sobbing. Hotch would know what to do. Hotch would take his hand and gently wrap it before talking to him about whatever it was that was going on. He would help him sort through the information overwhelming him.

But Hotch wasn’t there. And it was all his fault.

JJ and Morgan ran over to him. Reid wanted to push them away but found himself powerless to resist their coddling.

“Guys,” Garcia said, answering the call.

She let out a gasp. Hotch’s stomach was worse. There were more cuts on his leg. His face was covered in bruises. But there was something else that hadn’t been there before. A defiant, hopeful glint in his eyes. Like he knew something else now.

“Hello again,” Jonathan greeted.

Garcia immediately started trying to trace the call, not even hesitating to try thousands of other methods when it failed.

Reid pushed Morgan and JJ away, taking the seat next to Garcia to try and find the hidden message.

“I’ve trained Aaron very well,” Jonathan commented. He was holding a gun. Hotch’s gun. Hotch’s back-up gun he’d kept holstered against his ankle ever since Adrian Bale had left him defenceless.

Under the table, Reid fiddled.

“What are you?” Jonathan asked Hotch.

“A narcissist,” Hotch replied, but there was something different about the way he said it when compared to earlier. Reid leant forward, determined to work it out.

“What are you?” he asked again, now pointing the gun at his head. Reid felt bile rise in his throat. It must have been like that for everyone else, watching him with Hankel.

“A bully.”

“And?”

“A drill sergeant.”

“He doesn’t believe what he’s saying,” Reid shouted, then covered his mouth, just in case Jonathan heard. But he was too busy taunting Hotch with the negative things that had been said about him.

“What?” Rossi asked.

“Look at his body language. He doesn’t believe it anymore. Emily convinced him. We just need to work out where he is. If he knows we love him, he won’t do anything stupid.”

Garcia started typing even more furiously.

“Tell them again what you are. Let them savour the moment. Let them always remember this as the moment where Aaron Hotchner finally admitted how dreadful he was.”

“I’ve got a location!” Garcia whispered. Everyone looked at each other, then nodded. Finkelstein and his team would arrest Jonathan and get Hotch out. They would follow as soon as the call had ended.

“I’m a narcissist. A bully. A drill sergeant. A sexist prick. A failure. And I’m rude.”

“I suppose you get the smallest amount of credit for admitting it. But it’s not enough to say it. I want you to prove it. Choose one of them to die.”

Reid dug his nails into the fabric of his trousers.

Hotch’s eyes widened, and for the first time his confidence wavered. “What?”

“You heard me. If you’re truly all of these things, choose one to die. Choose one of those team members that hate you so much to die by your own gun.”

“Come on Hotch. Give us that message that tells us how to get you out safely,” Reid muttered to himself.

Hotch wasn’t answering.

“Wasn’t Agent Reid in a similar situation to this? And didn’t he say that he chose Aaron Hotchner? That must have hurt.”

“It’s Doctor,” Hotch responded, voice weak, the adrenaline waring off as he lost more blood and as his previous injuries went untreated.

“Oh god,” JJ said, the first to realise his mistake.

Hotch’s eyes widened.

Jonathan smirked. “Oh dear. Have you been lying to me? Are you not actually these things?”

“Finkelstein is three minutes away,” Rossi updated.

“I am!” Hotch exclaimed. His voice was hoarse, his eyes glazed over and unfocused.

“Then choose.”

“No.”

“My patience grows thin Aaron. Choose.”

“Two minutes,” Rossi said.

“Hotch please,” Reid pleaded. JJ rubbed his shoulder, just as tense.

“I can’t,” Hotch said, pain starting to overwhelm him as he tried too hard to think of a solution.

“Do it,” Jonathan said, fingers fiddling with the trigger.

“I choose myself,” Hotch said.

“No,” Reid whispered. “There has to be a message somewhere in there. He said: it’s doctor, but before that he said what and after that he said no and- there’s no message. Rossi there’s no message. What are we supposed to do?”

“Finkelstein is a minute away. Hotch will keep him talking. And then we’ll get him back. I promise.”

“Why? Why do you choose yourself, when your team hate you?” Jonathan was angry and holding a gun. A dangerous combination at the best of times. But Hotch had no weapon. No vest.

Restrained and already weakened by his injuries.

“Because they don’t,” Hotch said.

“Yes they do,” Jonathan said through gritted teeth.

“They just need our signal to go in,” Rossi said.

“I can’t make that call,” Morgan confessed.

Rossi looked at him. “We can’t afford to wait.”

“No, they don’t. Your team did though, didn’t they? And then you lost your job for all the bad things you did and ended up being the victim of a person that was exactly the same as you had been. Aren’t I right? You’re not exactly hard to profile, I’ve just been waiting for the right moment.”

“How fucking dare you-” Jonathan started, then sighed. “I want you to tell me. Tell me why it should be you and not one of them.”

Rossi turned away. “Now.”

“Because they are my family. I love them unconditionally. And they love me back. And when you love your family, you do everything you can to keep them safe.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“They’re your family? Who love you?”

Aaron used the last of his strength to look up into his captor’s eyes. “And I love them.”

Jonathan hmmed.

The gunshot that rang out was nothing compared to Reid’s cry of horror.

[bbykpoper]

𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓪𝔀𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 🍓

Inspired by this post 🌼

Pairing: professor!jongho x student!reader

Index: Hongjoong // Seonghwa // San // Yunho // Wooyoung // Mingi // Yeosang

･*:༅｡

The early morning sun hit the windows of your small room just as the alarm on your phone buzzed underneath your pilow. A soft groan left your lips as you snaked an arm underneath it to turn of the annoying buzz.

“Wake up sleepy head.” The soft whisper reached your ears, making you stir under the covers. “You’ll be late to class.”

“I don’t wanna.” You mumbled out. 

“But you have to, otherwise I’ll throw you out of my lecture Miss y/l/n.” The soft voice chuckled and it was then that your eyes shot open and widened at the face in front of you.

“Welcome back to the world of the morning people Miss y/l/n.” The softest smile reached your eyes and you groaned into your arms as you looked over to your friends for help. “Come to my office after class.”

“Yes sir...” You huffed as he went on to continue his lecture.

“Why didn’t any of you kick me when I fell asleep?” Your soft whisper reached your seatmate.

“Sorry y/n, but you were sleeping so soundly I didn’t have the heart to.” She answered.

Lucy was the cute clueless blonde that ended up being friends with you after freshman orientation when she managed to trip over your foot on accident. She, just like you was a biology major and you guys were inseperable ever since. 

“I just really wanted to see you get embarrassed so I did nothing.” Your other seatmate snorted through her quiet laugh.

Phoebe was a girl who first befriended Lucy, also through an accident in the student cafeteria along the second semester of your first year. She was such a laid back brunette that you two naturally got along and stuck together in most of your classes.

“Wow, you just really like to watch me suffer don’t you?” You mumbled her way and breathed a sigh of relief as the lecture continued without another incident.

“I just find it amusing how you have this large ass crush on our ecology professor.” Phoebe commented, booping your nose as she picked up her books.

“Hey, Professor Choi is an attractive man. If I was straight I’d go after him too y/n!” Lucy added as comfort to you.

“Gee, thanks?” You laughed at these exchange. “I’m gonna go off now to get a lecture on my behavior and maybe later we can grab a coffee or something?” 

“Yeah, we’ll meet you at Sugarberry’s.” 

You made your way towards Professor Choi’s office, tightening the pony tail on your head and mentally preparing yourself to zone out on his speech and just admire the man’s beauty. Just as you were about to knock on the door, it suddenly opened and a young man smiled at you, excusing himself and leaving. You shamelessly stared after the tall blond man, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the shape of his backside came into full view when he readjusted his shirt.

“Miss y/l/n.” The stern voice of your professor drew your eyes to him only to notice how he was now standing right in front of you. “Please take a seat.”

He moved and you shuffled inside taking a seat in front of his desk. 

“How have you been Miss y/l/n?” He asked.

“Good.” You said. 

“Have you been getting enough sleep?” He chuckled when you blushed intensly.

“Sorry about that sir, I had a project due yesterday and haven’t exactly had time to sleep.” You admited with a really strong blush on your cheeks.

“Well Miss y/l/n, I would’ve liked it better if you listened to my lectures instead of sleeping in the middle of it.” He said looking over at his window. 

You being the curious little thing that you are peeked over to see the array of plants which were situated in his window, especially the one he was looking at.

“Are you growing a fennel in your office?” You giggled out loud when you noticed how his eyes widened in embarrassement.

“You know your way around plants?” 

“Yes, I am planning on working in the greenhouses when I get my degree. I really do like plants and growing them.” Your eyes lit up with love as you spoke about your dream. “Even back in my appartement, I basically grow anything and everything I can and get on my roommates nerves because some of the devil ivy reached the bathroom.”

You stopped yourself when you saw how the man in front of you watched you with so much softness and awe in his eyes that the blush which reached your cheeks, spread out to your ears, burning them in the process.

“Would you be interested to join me on a little excursion this Saturday?” He suddenly asked you. 

“An... excursion...?” You tilted your head and you suddenly spoke out. “As in a date?!”

“Oh God no!” He was really quick to deny that and it hurt you a little bit seeing him so quick to say no. “You are one of my best students, and I would like for you to join a small group of my top proteges this Saturday. We’ll be visiting the National Greenhouse and I think it would be a wonderful chance for you all.”

“Oh, I see.” You said, feeling the humiliation crawling up your neck. “Silly me.”

“Would you like to join?”

“Yeah, sure.” You slumped your shoulders. 

“Perfect.” He clapped his hands together in joy. “If you don’t mind I’d like to get your number so that I can add you to our whatsapp group.”

“Yeah, neat.” You took his phone and begrugdingly typed your number. “Is there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?”

“No, that would be all.” He smiled, looking at his phone. “See you on Saturday.”

･*:༅｡

“So what, now you’re going to this outing or whatever it is with like five other students and him?” Phoebe asked clearly pissed off. 

“Yep.” Is all that you could muster.

“But at least you have his number.” Lucy tried to lift your mood.

“But what does that even mean? Nothing.” Phoebe groaned. “She likes him for almost two years, is obvious around him as if she’s carrying a transparent that says ‘marry me’ and the only thing he does is allude to a date but end it as a social gathering for his proteges?” Her eye-roll didn’t go unnoticed. “A bunch of bull if you ask me.”

“Or maybe he is in a position in which he can’t openly ask you out.” A sudden intrusion of another voice made the girls look up and see the waitress come over with their order. “Men are dumb creatures and sometimes they simply need a push when it comes to feelings. My advice to you is to just simply tell him that you’ve liked him for so long and just see where it goes from there.”

“But what if he doesn’t like me back? What if this strains any type of relationship I have with him?” You asked the waitress in the cute and fluffy pink apron. 

“Then at least you’ll know what you’re dealing with and will finally get the chance to move on.” She shrugged her shoulders and thanked them for the money they left her for the drinks, walking back to the inside of the shop.

“You know, that girl actually gives good advice.” Lucy commented.

“Must be nice being in a healthy relationship.” Phoebe muttered out watching the girl inside the shop as she smiled politely to some other customers.

･*:༅｡

Saturday had come by faster than you had liked and you dreaded to leave the appartment. The greenhouse group had decided to meet up at the bus station 12 p.m. sharp and from there professor Choi will drive you guys down to the greenhouse and the tour will begin. 

And right now, it was 11.30 a.m. Your friends were over and had forced you to wear one of your many long dresses to fit in with the flowers you would see in the greenhouse. It was a soft green dress with a pattern of leaves spread out across it. You sighed for the umptenth time as Lucy had braided your hair in a loose fish braid and looked over at Phoebe who was admiring your roommates ability to ignore all the plants inside here.

“It will never stop to amaze me how you put up with all these plants Mina.” She said.

“It’s not that bad.” She smiled. “I have actually grown fond of them. And y/n takes real good care of them so I don’t mind them.” She laughed. “Plus they are a really good background for photos.”

Mina was a photography major who you shared your dorm with in your second year. You two bonded quickly and when you managed to finish the second year, decided that it’d be great to have your own appartment together. And here you were one year later. 

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asked you.

“Nervous. Meh. Disappointed.” You stated turning towards her. “I’ve decided to listen to the advice the waitress at Sugarberry’s had told me. I mean honestly, what could go wrong?”

“The rest of the semester will be pretty awkward if you ask me.” Phoebe nodded her head.

“Like it isn’t now?” You snorted. “I’m just getting tired of having dreamy eyes for my damned professor and being treated like a project for him.”

“A project?” Both Mina and Lucy asked.

“Well this is that isn’t it? His empowering our future or what not. I appreciate the fact that this will help me get my dream job but I literally can’t take this anymore.” You slumped down into the couch.

“Well you better because you have less than ten minutes to get downstairs and to the station.” Mina pointed on the clock and you groaned grabbing your bag and stomping outside of the front door.

“Oh dear, I hope it all goes well.” Lucy commented looking at the other two girls.

Honda Hitomi, Danny Wellbridge, Jackson Wang, Joana Clark. The rest of your outing group was already gathered at the bus station located in front of your appartment complex. You had joined them all just a few minutes before professor Choi pulled up with his car. Joana was the first to call shotgun and sat next to him, while the rest of you evenly pilled in the back. Danny and Jackson in the far back, you and Hitomi in the middle.

“Oh gosh I’m so excited to see all the insects there!” Hitomi squealed in joy. 

“I know what you mean.” Danny added from the back.

“I’m just happy about the plants. I heard they’ve updated their western exhibition and added some new types.” Jackson said.

“Really?” You turned to face him. You’ve seen Jackson around campus a few times before. He was the definition of a social butterfly and sometimes even hanged with Phoebe. But you never got the chance to personally get to know him before this trip. “Do you think there would be some rare types of flowers there too?”

“I don’t know. But it would be awesome.” Jackson said matching your enthusiasm. “Hey, you maybe wanna go together to look around?”

The conversation you two were having was caught by professor Choi and he observed you through the rear view mirror, a prominent scowl on his face.

“Hell yeah!” You nodded with a bright smile.

It wasn’t long before you all made it to the National Greenhouse and were at the entrance waiting for your guide. You evaded talking to professor Choi, directing your full attention to what Jackson was talking about, fearing that if you did speak with him now you’ll loose all your courage to confess later on.

“Students, this is Jeong Yunho. He’s an old college buddy that’s in charge of the Japanese garden in the back and he’ll be our guide today.” Professor Choi spoke up cathing all of yours attention.

“Please call me Yunho.” The man with the pale blue hair smiled at you all and waved. “I’ll give you the main tour and then I’ll let you wonder about on your own. I feel that that way you all will go where your interests pull you.”

The tour was wonderful and you and Jackson managed to bond over every neat little plant you could find. Hitomi and Danny gushed so much when you guys ran accross a caterpillar and you then commented on something stupid drawing Hitomi in and befriending her quickly. The tour had come to an end when you reached the center of the greenhouse area and Yunho turned to them all.

“You are free to go off now, but I’d like it if you went in pairs as to not getting lost. These place is large and it’s quite easy to turn the wrong corner.” He said nodding to professor Choi. “The greenhouse closes at 7 p.m. Have fun. I need to get back to work.”

“Thank you.” You all said in union.

“So, where do you want to go first?” Jackson asked as Danny and Hitomi scurried off towards the insect exhibition. 

“How about visiting the South European-” 

“Mister Wang you should go with Miss Clarck. Your interests seem to be the same and it would be best that way.” Professor Choi cut you off.

“But me and y/n agreed to go together...” Jackson stated.

“Yes, but this is a better suited pair.” He said with a cold smile which made Jackson look at you for help. “Shall we Miss y/l/n?”

This was your chance!

“Sure.” You nodded and looked at Jackson. “I’ll make this up to another day.” You added apologetically and went off after professor Choi.

“So where are we headed?” You asked him.

“A surprise.” He winked at you and it made you blush.

On the way to this ‘surprise’ you have left the greenhouse and moved on to more of a garden scape further back and it just made your heart stop at the beauty of it.

“The interesting fact about the National Greenhouse is that the Botanical Gardens are just a bit behind them, and this is in fact where Yunho works.” Professor Choi stopped and placed a hand on your shoulder pointing in one direction. “See, he’s right over there working on a bonsai tree.”

All the blood rushed up to your ears at the close proximity between you two. The whisper of words made your stomach churn and your legs weak. You needed to get this crush off of your chest soon, otherwise you’ll be stuck fawning over him forever. 

As he guided you towards a small garden a flower caught your eye and you stopped getting a closer look.

“A youtan poluo.” You breathed out in a whisper. “And jade vines.”

“That’s right.” He smiled at your shinning eyes. “Welcome to the rare flower exhibit.” He chuckled. “Surprise.”

You looked around and noticed many more which you’ve only seen in books and on the internet. It was a magnificent sight to see and just the aromas which surrounded you had your head doing summersaults.

“I overheard you and Jackson talking in the back while getting here and I remembered Yunho telling me how they’ve updated their rare flower collection, so I thought you’d be happy if I brought you here.” You looked over at this man and his shy sunshine smile. And you’ve decided. It was now or never. “I was right wasn’t I?”

“I like you.” You stated, looking right at his eyes. Professor Choi looked dumbfounded an at a loss for words. The fast blinks were matching his rapid heartbeat but he was unable to form any words. “I’ve liked you for well over two years now professor. All those times you showed sympathy to me and ignored the fact I fell asleep in your class, or those times you would shyly smile when you noticed I was staring at you regardless of where we were. I know you figured this out already. But I just had to tell you.”

“I like you professor Choi Jongho.”

You looked at him with hope in your eyes as he stood there processing this information you had thrown at him. It felt like the minutes were going by in an eternal stupor of movements, his facial expressions changing as he came in terms with what just happened. You were scared, shaking and nervous. You really didn’t know what to expect. But surely you were not ready to get rejected.

“y/n...” 

It was clear by the tone with which he said your name and the tears welled up in your eyes. Gosh, you were dumb weren’t you.

“Yeah, I figured.” You stated with a sad smile on your face. “It’s okay. I don’t expect anything from you. I was dumb to even say these things to you.” You sighed and gripped your dress for support. “I think it’s better if I go home now. Thank you for bringing me here today and showing me these flowers.” The tears were now feely falling from your eyes, you unable to control them. “It really did make me happy.”

You ran off without stopping. Not when he called after you. Not when you viciously passed by a worried Jackson. Not even stopping to look at the bus number that had just stopped and getting on it. You cried in the back, not caring about all the stares you were getting from the old ladies. 

It hurt. Your heart really hurt.

By some dumb luck you had actually gotten on the right bus and made it back to your appartment complex, you made your way to your appartment and to your room, ignoring the worried roommate who was more than ready to throw hands with a grown ass man. You crawled into your bed, disregarded your plants and just wallowed in your self pitty for the rest of the week.

･*:༅｡

It’s been a whole week and you haven’t left your room except to shower ever since. Jackson and Hitomi had been blowing up your phone, worried after you had just ran out without a word. But you turned off your phone after the fifth call request from Jongho. He had tried calling you that night but you had fallen asleep and the next day when he did call you you cried more getting an earful from Phoebe. 

Hell, you dreaded leaving your room just because you knew Phoebe would make you attend all your classes and yell at you for being M.I.A. for a whole week. 

“She still hasn’t come out of her room?” Lucy asked Phoebe as they both collected their things to leave class. 

“No. Mina leaves food out the door and y/n eats once a day just so she doesn’t die.” Phoebe sighed. “She even neglects her plants Lucy! She never does that. Not even when her grandma died.”

The two were just about to walk out of class when somebody approached them. Lucy’s eyes went wide while Phoebe took on the stance of a dog with rabies. It was apparent he wasn’t welcome.

“Hello girls.” Professor Choi spoke up. 

“No offense, but we don’t want to talk to you sir.” Phoebe grumbled out.

“I know, but please hear me out.” He sighed in defeat. The two looked between each other and Lucy urged Phoebe to let the man talk. “I didn’t get the chance to answer y/n properly and she hasn’t been to my class this week. I’d like for you two to help me so I could talk to her and clear up this missunderstanding.”

“What missunderstanding? Her feelings aren’t a missunderstanding. They’re valid and came from the heart!” Lucy was quick to say.

“I know. But my answer was a missunderstanding.” He said sincerely.

Phoebe caught on pretty quickly by what he meant and narrowed her eyes while she got up in his face. She pointed her insex finger in his chest and harshly jabbed at it.

“I got my eye on you buckeroo.” She stated threateningly. “I know how to hide a dead body.”

Jongho gulpped as he, for the first time, took notice of those fierce eyes this girl had. He nodded furiously, almost cracking his neck. Phoebe pulled back and headed for the door, followed by a confused Lucy. Even Jongho looked defeated as he assumed they were leaving.

“Well? Do you want to talk to her or not?” 

Mina stared at the plate full of food which she had left this morning. It was late afternoon now and she had just come back from her lectures but the plate was untouched. You haven’t left your room at all. 

“y/n.” She whispered out as she knocked on your door. “You need to eat. I don��t want you getting sick...”

No answer. Just like before. She sighed and cast down her eyes as she picked up the tray. A sudden knock on the front door drew her attention and she went to open it, revealing Phoebe and Lucy with an unexpected addition.

“Her room is the one in the corner of the living room.” Phoebe said as Jongho took of his shoes. “He needs to talk with her and I thought you might want to hang with us while he does.”

Mina looked up at the man and nodded, understanding the need for privacy.

“If you manage to get in can you make her eat? She barely had a proper meal this week...” She handed him the tray of food.

“I’ll make sure.”

They left and Jongho went over to your door, noticing how it hand a small potted plant hanging off it. It was cute, something which really suited you. He knocked a few times but there was no answer. With a brave heart and hope that you hadn’t locked you door he tried the knob, happy when it opened. 

The inside of your room was covered in darkness, streetlights seeping in through the large windows. Potted plants were in the window and Jongho noticed how they seemed to be lacking water. He took it upon himself to relive the plants of their thirst, leaving the tray of food on your desk. 

“Go away Mina. I don’t want to eat.” The bundle of sheets spoke and caught his attention. 

It seemed you had made yourself into a taco, some hair sticking out to indicate where your head was. He sat down next to you and placed his large hand on your head.

“Your roommate left a while ago.” He spoke up, catching you off guard. “Before you yell at anybody, I asked your friends to bring me over so that I can talk to you. And I’d like it if you listened to me first before throwing me out.”

Your body stiffened but you kept quiet. You were yet again on the verge of crying but were trying really hard to control yourself.

“I was surprised back at the botanical garden when you confessed your feelings for me. A lot of emotions went through my head and I was dumbfounded for any type of answer at first. I thought how it was wrong for one of my students to fall in love with me, how I should have stopped this crush you had the minute I caught on it... but I just couldn’t do that. I noticed you the first day you had walked into my class, the way your hair swayed with every small movement of your head, how you would soak up every bit of information I gave you like a sponge, even the way you’d chew your nails when stressed.” He sighed when he noticed you calming down and peeked out the covers. “I have liked you since day one y/n. But I though it was wrong and I couldn’t bring you in a situation where you would be involved with your professor.” He chuckled. “To be honest, I would have confessed when you graduated.”

“Really?” You crawled out from underneath the sheets.

“Really.” He nodded with a smile.

“But what does this mean for us now?” You asked, sitting up and letting the covers reveal you whole.

It was only then that Jongho noticed how your hair covered your bare shoulder. The tanktop you were weating hugged your body closely and the booty shorts did not help his eyes to not wander down your bare legs. 

“We can try to make this work. You only have one more year ahead of you. As long as we don’t make it obvious I’m sure we’ll survive.” He stated a deep blush covering his cheeks.

“Are you sure?” You asked with a furrowed brow not understanding why he was suddenly so flustered. But then you noticed how his eyes wandered down your body and suddenly you got self concious. “Are you sure that it won’t be-” You pinned him down onto your bed, stradling his waist. “-troublesome for you?”

Jongho gulped and you brought your face closer. It was too cute not to tease him seeing how he got so flustered he began fumbling with his words.

“It may be troublesome if another man come up to you but I think I can handle him.” He said, his face suddenly turning serious. With as much as little effort he flipped you over, so now the positions were reversed. “Just as I can handle you.”

You held your gazes steadily as he lowered his face, mere inches from your lips. But nothing lasts forever. Especially when you don’t eat properly for a week.

Your stomach grumbled loudly and you blushed at the sound. You were hungry, and he knew it. He laughed and pulled you up, bringing over the plate of food Mina had left him.

“I think that it’s best you eat first. And then we’ll figure something out.” 

You nodded shyly as you ate slowly, enjoying the comfort he gave you with his caring nature.

･*:༅｡

The early morning sun hit the windows of your small room just as the alarm on your phone buzzed underneath your pilow. A soft groan left your lips as you snaked an arm underneath it to turn of the annoying buzz.

“Wake up sleepy head.” The soft whisper reached your ears, making you stir under the covers. “You’ll be late to class.”

“I don’t wanna.” You mumbled out.

Jongho chuckled as he climbed into bed with you, messing up the sheets even more. He peppered your face with kisses as giggles left your mouth and you finally cracked open one eye to look at him. 

“Did you water the plants?” You asked him, noticing how he had some dirt on his cheek.

“Yeah. Mina asked me to model for her for her graduation project just as I was doing it.” He said, wiggling under the covers so he could hug you. “She wants to portray love.”

“Yeah, she told me last night that she was inspired by us while we were planting strawberries on the balcony.” You reached out to kiss him. “I told her I’d do it, but that she should ask you too.”

“Well good because I answered yes.” He smirked kissing you back. “I’m glad you confessed when you did. Because otherwise I couldn’t be apart of something so wholesome.” He smiled wide. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You answered matching his smile. “I’m just glad I listened to that waitress’ advice. Because you really wouldn’t have been a part of something so wholesome!”

[erin-bo-berin]

Birthday Surprise

MASTERLIST

So I actually got this idea from a adult romance book I read last year and it was so humorous, I knew I wanted to write a scenario like it with Spencer and the team. Besides, Spencer can be funny at times too.  Hope you enjoy!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 2,529

You can’t believe you let your best friend talk you into this.

“It will be a great birthday present!” Bree exclaimed, beaming.

You grumble to yourself. This was a better idea in theory than reality.

Your boyfriend, Spencer Reid, had a birthday coming up. It was the last year of his 30’s and you really wanted to do something special for him, but with every gift you thought of, it just didn’t seem to be enough.

That was when Bree, the grand schemer of all schemes, came up with what she thought was a brilliant idea. 

She worked at a nice, upscale restaurant as a waitress. Also, she had one of the nicest sections. You were to make reservations for you two and you would hide under the table for when he arrived and you could give him a secretive, surprise blow job. It would be hot and memorable, she said.

You arrived at the restaurant 15 minutes early. Bree had managed to snag you a table that was off in a corner, with more privacy and helped you under the table. Which is where you currently were.

It all sounded great when she had hatched the idea, now you just felt silly, your knees were numb and your feet were falling asleep. You were about ready to give up and come out from under the table with your tail between your legs when you heard voices approaching your table.

“Here’s your table, sir, I’ll be right back with your menu,” Bree said, probably louder than she should have. 

With one rap against the table, you knew that she was giving you the signal that you two were alone now. 

You watch as he sat down and you see his familiar black converse suddenly appear inches from your legs, his black suit pants accompanying the shoes. He’d probably just come from work.

You hesitate, not sure if you should go through this, but decide you’ll never get another chance like this. You’re reaching out for his belt buckle when you hear Bree’s voice, loud and close again.

“Can I help you?”

There was a pause and then a mixture of voices you didn’t recognize.

“Let me see if I have a bigger table available in my area! I’ll be just one second!” 

Bree’s voice is suddenly high pitched, sounding frantic. You know her voice only sounds like that during super busy shifts, when she’s panicked and freaking out. Something is wrong and you have no idea what’s going on.

Your phone buzzes in your purse. You twist around, not easily, to retrieve it from your bag. It’s a text from Bree.

ABORT MISSION. More dinner guests.

Your brows furrow. You have no earthly idea what she’s talking about. You send back a few question marks.

A huge group of people just showed up to your and Spencer’s table.

Your phone vibrates repeatedly with multiple texts from your friend.

Tall assassin looking black woman.

Hispanic looking guy with nice hair.

Buff Asian hottie with tattoo.

Italian grandpa.

Brunette boss lady with bangs.

Pretty blonde with killer legs.

Another blonde wearing every color in the rainbow and cute shoes.

You stop breathing for a second. They all sound like Spencer’s coworkers.

As in coworkers from the team in the unit of the FBI, where he works. This was not how you planned to meet them for the first time.

You have no idea why they’re here though, so you’re just as bewildered as Bree. But you’ve started to panic, trying to figure out how you’re gonna escape with no one seeing you. It would be humiliating to meet Spencer’s work family like this.

How the hell am I gonna get out from under the table without them knowing?

Don’t worry, I got this.

You hear the clicking of heels approaching and hear Bree talking to the team.

“We’re working on that table, why don’t I escort you all to the bar so you can see our drink menu.”

“I’ll wait here with you, Spence,” a male voice said.

“Damnit,” you mumble.

Now your escape was going to be even harder.

The majority of the voices fade away with Bree’s and you sighed, resigned to the fact that you’re going to be stuck under this table for a while.

You make a mental note not to listen to another one of Bree’s ideas.

“So, kid, did you tell Y/N that you were inviting us to your birthday dinner? We’re all so excited to meet her.”

“No,” Spencer answered the deep, older sounding voice, “I wanted to surprise her because I was afraid if I told her beforehand she’d stress out about meeting all of you.”

Well that explained that.

You were surprised alright. 

“How long have you been together now? Over a year? And we haven’t even met her yet? Are you sure you haven’t made her up?”

You bite your thumbnail trying your hardest not to laugh out loud.

“No, Rossi, I haven’t made her up. She’s real. Besides you know every time we tried to make plans something has come up.”

“Quite conveniently too, I might add.”

You already like this guy.

“She should be here soon,” Spencer said.

You catch a glimpse of him pulling his phone out of his pants pocket, positive he’s checking if there’s any missed texts or phone calls from you.

You guess now is the best time of any to make him aware of your presence. 

Your hand slides up his thigh and you choke back your cackle when he practically jumps ten feet in the air.

“Something wrong?” 

“Uh I dropped my phone under the table, let me just get it.”

His chair scoots back and he bends down under the table, pretending to retrieve his phantom fallen cell phone. His eyes widen when he sees you under the table. You give a meek smile and wave in return.

You point to your phone, miming texting to tell him that’s the only way you can talk without being found out.

“Oh found it. It fell against the wall.”

Spencer sits back up again, pulling his chair in as he settles.

“I think I’m gonna text Y/N, just so I can get her ETA,” Spencer says calmly.

He’s way too good at staying calm in situations, so you’re not too surprised that he sounds completely normal even though he just discovered his girlfriend curled up in an uncomfortable position, under a table in a restaurant.

I’m afraid to ask why you’re under the table.

That was one good thing about Spencer; he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. So instead of mocking you, embarrassing you or even being angry, he approached most things calmly. Although you’re sure he’s secretly dying of amusement over this. You’re positive this isn’t going to be the last time you hear about this.

Well, I was kinda hoping to surprise you for your birthday with a hot, secret blowjob...but it kinda blew up in my face instead of how you were supposed to.

You hear him snort above you which he quickly covers with a cough.

“Y/N should be here soon. She’s probably closer than she thinks.”

You hit his leg. What a smart ass he is, although technically he is a smart ass but that’s another story.

Help me get out of here. I don’t want to exactly pop out to meet your teammates like “hi I was just hiding out for a nice birthday sexcapade nice to meet you”.

Technically doesn’t that mean an illicit affair?

Spencer, we really need to introduce you to Urban Dictionary.

A chorus of voices approach the table.

“Any update on that table?” came a female voice.

“Nothing yet. But, uh, have you seen their amazing aquarium? Come on, I’ll show it to you!”

“I gotta head to the ladies room, I’ll find you at our new table.”

This voice was a different female voice from the first one.

You wait until the numerous voices get far enough from the table when you decide to peek from underneath the tablecloth. You curse, seeing a woman that looks a lot like what Bree described as the brunette boss lady walking in your direction. That was most definitely Spencer’s boss. 

You drop the tablecloth like it’s on fire, concealing yourself once again. You watch as the feet pass by the table and brave another look. Thankfully, it’s all clear.

You dash as fast as you towards the kitchen. If Bree is in there, your hands might find their way around her neck.

•

“Bree, that could’ve been disastrous!” you shriek, causing a few of the kitchen staff to peer over at you.

Sorry, you mouth, wincing.

“Well it’s not like Spencer is mad is it?” she asked, loading plates onto her tray.

“No, but he’s not going to let me live it down.”

“Hey, think of it this way. He’s gonna be thinking of that BJ the entire dinner,” she smirked.

“I’m never listening to another one of your hair brained ideas,” you grumbled.

“Hey, you’ll thank me later,” she sing-songed lifting the tray of food to her shoulder, “Now just go out the back kitchen door, walk around to the front of the restaurant and it will be like nothing ever happened.”

She was gone through the swinging doors in a jiff and you sighed, heading towards the back door.

•

It takes a whole ten minutes for you to circle the entire building before you finally reach the front doors. You attempted to compose yourself and straighten your red mini dress before entering and going to find the new table. You spot them a few minutes later and walk up nervously.

“There she is!”

Spencer’s face lights up when he sees you and suddenly you don’t feel as nervous as you did seconds before. He loved this group of people and that meant a lot to have a Spencer seal of approval. Maybe the night wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Did you take the subway here?” Emily asked.

“Um, yes. That’s why I’m late, I’m so sorry.”

“I sure hope it wasn’t too crowded down there—I mean in there,” Spencer smirks.

You shoot him an exasperated look and are met with one of his thousand kilowatt smiles.

Turns out, dinner wasn’t so bad after all.

•

“You were right; they were all incredibly nice,” you say as you and Spencer walk in the door of your apartment, “I love them.”

“I knew you would,” he smiled.

“So, have you had a great birthday?”

“Well I’ve had quite the unusual one, that’s for sure.”

You stifle a groan as you kick off your heels in the hallway.

“I still can’t believe you actually hid under a table to surprise me.”

He’s already laughing again.

“I’m still gonna kill Bree.”

“Hey,” he grabs you by the arm, turning you towards him, “I’m incredibly flattered that you went to such lengths for me.”

“Really?” you asked timidly.

“Of course,” he smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “Not every girlfriend would plan to blow their boyfriend in front of his coworkers.”

“Spencer!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he chuckled, leaning against the hallway wall, pulling you towards him and kissing you.

“Mm, well it is still your birthday, you know,” you say devilishly, biting his bottom lip gently then kissing him again.

You pull away, taking a hold of his tie before leading him to the bedroom. It takes a few minutes for you both to make it there as he stops you frequently to steal a kiss or two.

Finally at your destination, you push him against the closed bedroom door, fingers pulling off his tie. Your lips trail his jaw then neck, fingers fumbling over his button down. 

He chuckles amused, aiding you. Your mouth travels down his neck and over his chest, making slow work of your descent. He watches you closely as you fall to your knees, a kiss placed just above the waistline of his pants. Your hand comes up to press against the forming bulge in his pants and he groans lowly.

“I may not have been able to do this earlier, but we’ve got all the time in the world now,” you bite your lip and peer up at him innocently.

Popping the button and pulling his zipper down, you push his pants down over his hips. The edges of your fingers dip into the waistband of his underwear and you hear the sharp intake of his breath; you can tell how much he’s anticipating this.

Apparently Bree was right and he had been thinking about it all dinner long, especially if his small stolen touches under the table were any indicator. There would be a gentle touch on your thigh, slowly sliding just a bit too close towards your inner thigh; an arm wrapped around your back, his fingers just casually brushing the bottom swell of your breast. He had been ready for this hours ago and you were ready to give it to him.

Your eyes don’t leave his as the clothing is pulled downwards and you wrap a hand around him, squeezing just hard enough to cause his head to fall back with a dull thud against the door, a groan coming from deep in his throat.

You lean down, tongue swirling around the tip, agonizing slow, your fingertips ever so slightly tracing down his length.

“Oh god,” he groaned, “Don’t tease me, Y/N.”

“Not so fun when you're not the one dishing it out, now is it?”

He could be the ultimate tease in the bedroom, so this taste of his own medicine was long overdue.

Your tongue swirls around him before taking him in your mouth, his moan of relief and pleasure filling your ears. 

With hollowed cheeks, you alternate your speed and pressure, keeping him on his toes, making your next move unpredictable to him.

“Baby, please.”

His moans are louder and more frequent as his hand moves into your hair. You look up through your lashes as you work him, keeping your gaze locked on him. You think you actually hear him whimper.

Your hand pumps the rest of him, your wrist turning as your mouth moves on him, your tongue whirling as if you’re enjoying a favorite ice cream cone.

His hand tightens in your hair and you can tell he’s close to losing all control. 

“Y/N, Y/N, fuck, fuuuuck,” he groans finally letting go and succumbing to his ecstasy.

You take all he has in stride, discreetly wiping your mouth when you pull back although you’re sure he’s too dazed to notice.

“Happy birthday to me,” Spencer mumbles, pulling you to your feet and kissing you.

You break the chaste kiss, backing up towards the bed.

“Well lucky for you, there’s still three and a half hours left of your birthday. How about we do a little more celebrating?”

It takes him all of two steps to cross the room and take you in his arms, causing you to giggle.

Yeah, this would be a birthday he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

Tag List: @dreatine​ @reid-187​ @groovyreid​ @reidslibra​ @suvikamahes98blr​ @fuckthealarm​ @whatspunispun​ @iamburdened​ @cindywayne​ @thomasfoockinshelby​ @tinyminy88​ @theitcaramelchick​ @missprettyboy​@hushlilbabydoll @sammy-jo1977​ @theonlyone-meeeee​ @haileymorelikestupid​

[heroprose]

at arrival;

ship. katsuki bakugou x reader

summary. (temporary and partial) amnesia au.

//

everything hurts. you’re not feeling so hot, but you’d argue nobody would be, if they had woke up on the concrete alleyway behind their local burger king, like how you just did.

and it’s not even noon. 

nothing’s gone off your body, thankfully, save for perhaps your sense of pride. and maybe, the recollection of how you even got there. as you go to stand, your knees wobble and you press yourself against the building to keep from stumbling over. 

your head is swimming, and you feel as though this is a bigger issue than it appears to be. you’re in your hero gear, for goodness sake. your name would be found in the front pages undoubtedly, right underneath the headliner, hero found passed out behind a burger king! with a terribly unflattering picture of you to boot. 

career? tarnished. the prospect of this makes you shiver.

in any case, you need to get out of there. fast. you pause, with an elbow on the wall of the building, in a solid attempt to catch your breath and recall your assignment. you stay there for quite some time. there’s an inkling that you’d either been dragged here against your will, or you’d dragged yourself here to evade the public eye, but nevertheless, it’s a bit more concerning that you just can’t remember.

you pull yourself away from the wall and feel the back of your head for swelling or blood, but when your fingers come back clean, cold dread creeps up your spine. the ringing between your ears is so loud that you nearly miss the buzz of your phone in your pocket. with shaky hands, you fish it out and squint.

katsuki, says the caller id. with a red heart next to the name. 

you feel the name in your mouth soundlessly, but there’s no familiar chime to it. who the hell is katsuki? in an indecisive panic, you let the call go to voicemail and stuff it away. 

it’s questionable though, as to why the criminal that afflicted you with this amnesia didn’t rob you of your phone. or anything tangible, it seems, as you pat yourself down. your phone, your wallet, your equipment-- it was all there. if only you could just remember what the criminal looked like. 

you suck in a breath when you step back onto the sidewalk, feigning as though you weren’t just slumped over in a damp, cold alleyway ten minutes ago. your best bet would be to go to police station and go through the security camera footage for this street. 

your second objective would be to report this without making yourself sound like a clown and a half. running a tongue over your bottom lip, you think of all the ways you could word this to your manager.

it’s fine. it’s absolutely fine, you think to yourself in repetition like a mantra as you turn the corner. the more you walk though, the more uneasiness welled inside you like a balloon. for you to still be afflicted, the chances that the villain was still in proximity were detrimentally high. 

that, or they’d have to consciously retract their quirk’s hold on you. both were equally unattractive, equally plausible outcomes that meant you’d have to intercept them before you became jason bourne or something.

you wipe a hand over your face, feeling awfully fatigued. shouldn’t you have a partner on this case, anyway? from what you do recall, you rarely had solo assignments-- patrols were done in groups, after all. looking to and fro, you take a step to the side to avoid blocking the sidewalk and pull out your phone again. 

it’s cracked to hell and back and already, you feel disappointed at the future you. what you can see in spite of the cracks is that you’ve missed the mysterious katsuki-with-a-red-heart’s call... three times today. well. 

you click your tongue. a persistent one, they were. you wonder if they knew you were on duty and still dialed for a booty call. to be fair, you don’t know how long you’d been unconscious for either, so it comes at no surprise that they’d call multiple times without a definite answer to withdraw from.

your heart plummets as a novel thought strikes you. they could be a crush of some sort, yes-- unless, of course, katsuki was actualy a new reporting boss and the heart just ironic decor. would you do something like that? punch the name of your boss in your phone in such a ludicrous manner? it’s certainly not beyond you, but it makes everything a little more tiresome now. 

you wonder if you should give them a call. what would you say? sorry, i’ve not only managed to let the suspect escape, but also i have no idea who you are anymore? you grimace. now that’s just nothing short of horrifying and humiliating.

but you also have nothing to lose. you swipe at their name with a thumb then cradle the phone at your ear. grimy sweat drips down your neck.

please be a nice boss, you think. please be nice, please be nice, please be nice, please be--

you don’t even get the chance to introduce yourself in the call before he speaks. “where the hell are you?” a seething voice starts sharply when the call connects. it’s deep, gritty, and angry, and inwardly, you want to scream right into the abyss for jinxing yourself. “you were supposed to report back two hours ago.”

two hours ago? you exhale slowly. at least you called it, him being your boss. “sorry. i just-- you know--”

“sorry? no, there’s no sorry here. you don’t answer your phone, you don’t answer your damn comm link-- what are you trying to pull? huh?”

you grimace. the ironic red heart has begun to make too much sense now. your last boss didn’t berate ever you over the phone like this and you glance about at the walking passerbys on the sidewalk, to make sure they can’t hear katsuki’s rage, before you continue your walk to the police station.

“i think my comm link is broken, actually,” you confess. “and, uh, my phone was out of battery. i’m using a public charging station right now.” that was a complete bull-faced lie, but he’d never know. you pull the phone hastily away to check the battery percentage before you brought it back against your ear.

“you idiot,” he says. “i told you to charge your phone last night. and what the hell do you mean, broken?” 

ouch. talk about a double-edged. “it... broke when i fell.” you surmise that it snapped in half when you fell over behind the restaurant but that theory was faulty even at best. in any case, it dangled in pieces so you just shoved it away for the time being.

he seems to scoff at you. “what, did you fall off a building or something?”

“it certainly feels that way,” you say in a mutter. “my head is splitting.” 

you don’t realize the iciness in your retort until he doesn’t respond immediately and it stops you dead in your tracks for a moment. you are so losing your job. and it’s heartbreaking because the benefits were pretty nice too. 

“i--” you start, but he interjects deftly.

“where are you? i’m coming.”

“wait, what? no, no,” you say in a haste, apprehension rising. “i’m fine, i swear!” 

“answer me, where are you?” he repeats, hostile if nothing else.

“it’s fine!” you stress. “i’m fine. i’m just calling in to report my task, but since i’m returning to the office anyway, i’ll report it in person. i’ll see you later today, sir.”

you wait for him to hang up.

he doesn’t, unfortunately. 

“what did you just call me?”

“... sir?” had your intonation been off? at this point you really could not find it in yourself to know nor care. “okay, fine, i’ll see you later, katsuki.” you hold your breath too this time, to see if he’d have any kneejerk reaction to this term of address too. 

“give me the name of the street you’re on. i’ll pick you up.”

“completely unnecessary. besides, i’m not returning yet-- i’m going to the police station.”

“why?”

you clear your throat before continuing. “to make a long story short, i-- there’s been a slight issue. first, i let the suspect escape. i think.”

there’s a serious pause before he replies. “yes,” katsuki says, voice hard. “i know that because she’s in police custody right now and has been for the last hour. what are you--”

“oh! are you serious?”

“you think i’m not?”

“okay, in that case, this makes what i’m about to tell you easier then.” you bring your other hand up to cup the front of your mouth, and in a low mumble, “it think she used her quirk on me. i passed out on the street, and, uh, i don’t remember some things--” 

so much for saving face. 

“you what?” katsuki flatly snarls in your ear. “and you didn’t think to immediately request for backup beforehand?” if you weren’t in such shit, you would think it was kind of hot.

“well, i don’t really know what i was thinking beforehand because newsflash, i don’t remember!” 

“then what the hell do you remember?” 

“like-- i don’t know-- my job, for one. my address, my name, my age-- that stuff is all fine. i’m sure everything else will turn up eventually.” you pause. “i don’t remember getting a new manager though.”

“what? you’ve had the same manager since you got hired though. in fact, we’ve had the same manager since we got hired.”

your blood runs cold and fatally slow. “no way,” you utter. “you mean you’re not my manager?” 

“you’ve got to be freakin’ joking. you don’t remember who i am?”

“no, i do! katsuki--”

“don’t bullshit me, dumbass. i can’t believe you spent this entire conversation thinking i was your manager. is that why you called me sir?”

“obviously! why else would i call you that?” you let out a groan. “i’m sorry, but yeah, i don’t remember you. i feel horrible.”

“whatever. i’m coming to get you.”

“okay,” you say weakly, before you send him your coordinates.

“if you don’t remember me,” he continues. “then you don’t remember the last five years of your life.” you realize he’s just not letting you hang up, but you don’t say a word.

“but if we’ve worked at the same place for at least the last five years, how do i recall the agency but not... you?”

“easy,” he says, punctual. “we didn’t care for each other. didn’t know, didn’t care to know.”

the sun was just overhead now, beaming right at the crown of your head and you glance around for some semblance of shade. “and what about now?” you ask carefully. “do we care now?”

a sharp bark of laughter is tinny over the phone. “i wouldn’t know. tell me when you remember,” katsuki says scathingly.

“i’ve got a heart next to your name in my phone, katsuki. that’s a bit friendly for a coworker. in my personal opinion.”

he goes so quiet that you think he hung up.

“katsuki?”

“yeah?” his voice is distant. a car whirs in the distance from his end.

“are you... good?”

another brief, derisive laugh escapes him. “i’ll talk to you later. see you in five,” he says, and he’s undeniably haughty. 

with that, the line goes dead.

what an ass. 

definitely a booty call slash office fling that you mistakenly caught feelings for.

sighing, you fidget about with your gear (that upon further inspection, you don’t remember ever utilizing prior) as you wait for katsuki’s arrival. even with the criminal arrested, you’re unsure as to how long the effects of the emission even last for. 

you just feel like hot garbage. all you want to do is rest up for several days because that nap behind the burger king really gave you some kind of severe kink in your neck apparently. hopefully your actual manager will agree on a day off too.

you consider texting them for details on the criminal, but hold off, as you tug off your heavier equipment slowly. the wristlets are strapped in tight so that when you finally peel off your gloves, your hands finally breathe--

but in the sunlight, something-- something glitters on your finger and suddenly, your lungs can’t find it in themselves to function properly.

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 1.5 OR Chapter 2

➜ Words: 3.3k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

➜ Notes: I’m so excited to finally share this series. I’m pretty satisfied with how it turned out, so get ready for a rollercoaster, y’all.

cr.

The moving truck wakes you.   It’s deafening. You can hear the slow ‘beep, beep, beep’ of the vehicle backing up. With one eye open, you grab your phone to check the time. It’s ten minutes before your alarm.

You begrudgingly rise, getting ready for the day and humming while you brush your teeth to warm up your throat. You change your clothes, then eat cereal in silence at your kitchen counter. Once you’re ready, you leave. But not two steps out your door are you clumsily tripping over a cardboard box.   You make sure not to scream too loudly in case you draw attention. So with a muffled sound and your ankle throbbing at how it was twisted, you stand again.    Someone’s moving in next door.   There are messy boxes littering the hall, the door wide open, and from what you can see inside, the living space is empty. But you don’t dwell, making your own way down the hall to the stairwell.   The timing is poor. By mere seconds, you miss the brunette boy sticking his head out the door with pouty lips and cute eyes, peeking down the hall to catch your retreating form.   You limp to the station and as your shitty luck would have it, the train becomes delayed while you’re squished in the middle cart that’s packed like sweaty sardines. It halts suddenly, everyone jolting and you flinch when someone stomps on your right foot by accident.   There’s no apology.    “Hey, watch it,” the man beside you grumbles and you’re pushed again, at least with your foot free this time and throbbing inside of your worn shoe.   “S-sorry.”   The delay makes you late by the time you arrive in Time Square. You run through the street, shouting more apologies as you dive through the busy crowds and tourist groups. Once you make it to New 42nd Street Studios, you sprint down the stairs to the basement of the building. You nearly trip and tumble downwards to your death, but you catch yourself on the sticky railing.   It’s three minutes past nine o’clock.   “You’re late.”   “I’m sorry.”   “Sorry doesn’t make you earlier.”   The director sighs and rolls his eyes. He turns away from you and claps his hands together, scanning the rest of the bustling crew. “Today’s the day folks! We have dress rehearsal and then the show begins at six sharp! It’s showtime! So let’s get moving. You there, intern, go get coffee. And try not to be late this time.”   “Y-yes, sir.”   Up the stairs you go again. It seems like you’re always running, whether it’s for this job or to this job. But you quickly remind yourself that it’s a privilege to be here. Years ago, you would’ve cried tears of happiness if you knew you’d be on the production team of Phantom of the Opera.   Of course, you would’ve assumed you were performing. But being an intern was good enough. Everyone had to start somewhere.   “Hi, can I get ten americanos, six iced and four hot, three chai tea lattes, four vanilla lattes, three espressos, seven cappuccinos, and a green tea?”   The barista runs the company card into the side of her screen and then her eyes flicker up at you. “Sorry, it keeps saying declined. Do you have another method of payment?”   “O-oh. Sorry about that.” You end up paying out of your own pocket for the drinks. There’s no point in telling the director the company card failed — he’ll find some excuse to pin the blame on you, and it’s a small problem not worth the trouble.   You run back while balancing the plastic bags and cup holders in your hands, trying not to spill any of them. Once arrived, you hand them out to the crew members, actors, and actresses.   “Intern! What’s this?!” The director approaches and sighs. You prepare yourself, already reading that expression on his face. “I said six hot and four iced americanos. You got the order wrong!”   You bow your head. “S-sorry, my apologies.”    “You and your apologies!” His teeth are gritted, face reddened in anger. “Apologies doesn’t make my americano hot does it?!”   “I can go get another one if you need—”   “Don’t waste my time more than you already have.” He waves you off, sighing, and you’re left to drown in the humiliation as the others around you snicker underneath their breaths.    You release the air held in your throat and you narrow your eyes sharply into his backside as he walks away from you. You hold your tongue, reminding yourself that being here is a privilege.   //   The curtains draw.   There’s bated breath held in the audience, a certain sense of anticipation that builds the suspense until everyone’s on the edge of their seats. The lair is shown, mist spiraling on the floor, candles all around. The phantom with his cloak and half-mask sits at the organ.   Christine is enchanted, walking closer towards him slowly like she’s been bewitched by a spell.   The actor recites his lines, and then the music begins.    “Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation.” It’s a baritone voice, rich and seductive, but still sweet. “Darkness wakes and stirs imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses.”    The violin strings pull as if echoing after the voice.   You hold the microphone to your lips, singing and pulling the notes from deep in your stomach. The mic has been moved down several pitches to match the baritone vocal range that you wouldn’t be able to reach on your own, but the tone is rich and believable to be of the actor’s.   After all, one of the biggest efforts the director made was to be able to pull this off.   “.....the darkness of the music of the night.” Your eyes are shut, headphones on and you press the left side closer down to your ear, drowning in the lovely instrumental. “Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be.”   The note is belted out, streaming out from your lips like silk. And when it’s over, you grin. It’s thrilling, a kind of pride blooming inside your chest that’s rare for you to experience. Even if you’ve done it so many times, it never fails to bring you delight — you’re unable to believe that you actually did it.   Once the song is complete, there’s thunderous applause.   A smile spreads into your cheeks, one that’s infectious but no one sees when you’re hidden behind the curtain. And had you been standing on the stage in the spotlight, you might’ve noticed the brunette boy with pouty lips and cute eyes amidst the crowd.   He’s become enraptured by your voice. He’s enchanted, heart stuttering, speechless beyond words. This was the voice he was waiting for. This was it.   The show eventually comes to a close and everyone holds hands to bow to the audience. You peek out from backstage to watch the curtains being brought down.    “Good job everyone. Nice job crew. Taeyeon, beautiful job as Christine once again. You were lovely, darling. Your sound is like melted caramel.” The director continues with his praises, and the other girls playing more minor roles flock to Taeyeon’s side to also shower her with compliments. The whole gathering parade themselves into the dressing room, brushing right past you. “Oh, yes, there’s the star of our show! Kim Seokjin, you never cease to amaze me! Beautiful job as Phantom!”   “Of course.” Seokjin grins, charismatic and charming as always. “You shouldn’t expect any less of me. With a face like this, how could I ever fail?!”   There’s bellowing laughter that rings and pierces your eardrums. “You’re right!”   You wait as they come closer.   Your breath is held. Maybe today, you did a good enough job that he’ll acknowledge you—   But then the director walks past you like you’re a plant. Wallpaper. A backstage prop.   “I loved that emotion you expressed in the final piece. Almost moved me to tears.”   “I tried to do a different interpretation of it this time…” Their voices fade off and you sigh.   You’re envious. Kim Seokjin has a good face. He can act. He can dance. He has stage presence. He’s magnetizing and charming. But he just can’t sing. The man can’t hold a steady note for the life of him. You suspect he’s tone-deaf.    Understandably, the director couldn’t give up on his godly face, so you became his voice. A ghost singer.   It actually works out well. You don't have to be on stage in the spotlight where every single person can scrutinize you, but your voice can be heard. In a way, it’s like you’re performing. But you can still be comfortable. You just wish you were acknowledged. Even if it’s just a little.   You’re suddenly shocked out of your thoughts when one of the crew members hands you a stick, clearing his throat obnoxiously. “Start sweeping.”   You carry the broom and dustpan, beginning to brush away at the confetti that exploded, clearing the floor of dust and dirt. And you end up missing the boy who sneaks himself backstage, who looks around and slips into the shadows.   He walks down the corridor, luckily finding the dressing rooms and he follows the nameplates until he discovers the one that reads ‘Kim Seokjin’.   The boy knocks three times in rapid succession. He puts on his best smile and tries to push the wrinkles out of his suit jacket that’s too small and worn. The door opens. The laughter tapers off.   Jin’s makeup and fake burnt skin have been removed. What’s left is pure godlike genes, and he’s blinded by the older man’s handsomeness, having to resist the urge to shield his eyes.   “Who are you?”   “M-My name is Park Jimin. I’m a fan, I-I absolutely loved your voice on the show.”   “You want an autograph? Of course you do.”   “Who’s that?” the director calls out, lounging on the sofa and drinking a glass of red wine.   “A fan,” Seokjin turns his head to say, and then he grabs a piece of paper. He makes an enormous signature with permanent marker and several loops in his name. Once finished, he slaps it to Jimin’s chest before the younger can even breathe. “Thanks for your support.”   “Wait. Mr. Kim.” Jimin puts his foot between the door before he can shut it. The actor raises his brow and looks at him. “My dream is to be on Broadway. I know this is a lot to ask of you, but can you please mentor me?”   Jin stares at him and then frowns in annoyance. “Mentor you?”   Jimin quickly adds, “I promise I’ll try my best. I am willing to give up anything and learn and you seem to be the best of the best. I haven’t heard such a great baritone voice like yours in so long. Please accept me as your student.”   There’s an extended silence. “Sorry. I don’t accept students.”   “W-wait. Please!”   “Security!” Seokjin shouts outside the door. “Get him out of here!”   Jimin’s shell-shocked, unable to move when his feet are rooted in the ground. His bones have been frozen. The precious image of his idol that he’s created in his own mind for the past two hours has shattered. He’s left in utter shame and disappointment.   “Hey...you’re not allowed to be here!” One of the crew members suddenly points to him.   And then a hand plops down onto his shoulder, a grip firm and intimidating. Jimin looks up to find a stocky security guard, and he sighs. He drags his own legs, shoulders slumped, escorted out.   //   It takes an hour to help the crew clean up. You assist them in sweeping and putting away the props, all while waiting patiently with your eyes pinned on the entrance of the corridor. You dust your hands off, and you’re lucky with your timing.   The director is walking out with his bag slung over his shoulder, jacket over his arm, busy sipping on some warm tea.   “Director Kang!”   You stop right in front of him and he looks at you in boredom. “Why haven’t you gone home yet, intern?”   You’ve been cleaning up the entire time, but you don’t bother telling him in case he tells you that you’re too slow to complete tasks. You’re too preoccupied anyways, catching your breath. It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. “D-Director. I know we’ve talked about this before, b-but I really hope you’ll reconsider the referral.”   He sighs, rolls his eyes, and continues walking. You follow beside him frantically while he pulls out his phone to message someone.    “I think I’ve been trying my hardest at this job and I've been putting in a lot of hours. I’ve thought about what you said and your advice and I feel like I’ve improved in my singing, s-so….please give me a referral to an agent.”   All you need is a referral. One measly call and you can be in touch with someone who could expand their hands and help you. You could finally make a break in the industry, make a debut on Broadway. It’s what you’ve been trying to achieve your entire life. It’s your dream. Your goal. The reason you left everything back and home and came all the way here.   But he’s not paying any attention to your desperate pleas.   “Director?”   He’s irritated — you can tell with the way he huffs out. It makes you flinch, but he at least stops. “Intern, don’t make me repeat myself. You need to focus on what you’re doing now. Frankly, you’re not even good at this insignificant job. How are you supposed to achieve big things?”   “B-But…”    “You can’t take big leaps when you can’t even take small steps yet. You’re not ready. Not yet. If I happen to notice that you’re finally putting in some real effort and some hard grind, then I’ll think about it again. But now’s just not the time.”   “I…” You’re at a loss, on the verge of sobbing.   “Now if you’re finished, I have a call to make.”   He presses his phone to his ear, a universal sign that he’s not continuing the conversation. You watch him get into his car, driving away, and you’re left there on the street in a cloud of his gas exhaust.

Jimin is at a loss.    He paces around in his empty apartment room with still taped boxes scattered everywhere. He doesn’t feel like unpacking and putting away his belongings. Not when his mind was stuck on something else.   He came all the way here to look for a mentor — having followed his community theater director’s instructions to work on his singing. But without a teacher he can’t make his big break.   “What am I going to do now?” he sighs.    Maybe he jumped the gun a little too soon. It was pretty intense of him to go to a show right on the day when he moved in when he probably should’ve gotten settled. But there’s no time to waste when time is of the essence! Maybe he could somehow convince Seokjin to take him as a student. He is pretty insistent and not one to give up just after a single rejection….   Jimin sits on his couch, the only piece of furniture intact in his home, and he folds his hands together. His brows are furrowed, in deep contemplation onto the next step. But then suddenly, he hears a voice.   “—your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams.” It’s coming from the window. Sweet and melodic. Jimin’s captivated and stands on his feet, following the sound as if he was being gently tugged by a red string tied around his finger. “Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before.”   He steps out barefoot onto his chilly balcony. His eyes are fixed on the balcony beside him, the tiny flower beds that are wilting, the warm lights that pour out from inside the home, how the doors are slightly open to welcome a breeze. “Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!”   He hangs onto the note, relishes in how it stirs his very soul, and then rushes out. “And you'll live as you've never lived before....”   Jimin throws his front door open and then pounds onto the door next to his with his fist.   Three beats. One — two — three. And it opens.   He smiles. Then it falls. His line of sight comes a little lower than expected. He was anticipating a man singing, perhaps someone alike to Seokjin, lean and handsome. But instead, it’s a timid girl in pajamas — you.   “H-hello?” you squeak, nervous.   “H-Hi. I...I just….” He taps his ear, trying to explain himself. “I thought I heard…heard....never mind.” Jimin hitches his thumb over his shoulder and awkwardly tilts his body. “I just moved in.”   “Y-Yeah. I saw this morning.”   “So…it’s-uh-nice to meet you, I guess. I mean I don’t guess because it is great to meet you. I swear I’m not usually like this. What I mean is usually I’m not so direct. And, um, bad at speaking. We’ll be neighbors from now on. So I wanted to say hello, since usually, that’s the polite thing to do. Or at least what my mom tells me. She’s great. My mom. But right, I didn’t even tell you my name. My bad. I’m Park Jimin.”    He extends and opens his hand. Then he realizes it’s idiotic for him to shake hands with you. It wasn’t like this was some sort of business transaction. So Jimin lowers his arm….right when you’re opening your palm.    It’s a missed handshake, and he’s cringing so hard, he’s tempted to jump off the balcony. But instead, he musters up stiff laughter and raises his hand to shake yours. He muses how soft your skin is, but tries not to think about it too much in case that’s a weird thought. Which it is.   God, he’s usually not this nervous. It’s a fucking mess.   Yet, you still offer him a polite smile. “I’m Y/N.”   “Nice name. I mean all names are nice, but yours in particular. Not that I mean anything by it. Like it’s quite normal, but not normal in the sense that it’s overused. Not that overused names are a bad thing.” It’s terribly awkward. That blank stare you’re giving him doesn’t help with his perspiration either. Jimin tries to smile to show that he’s not a freak. But it might also be doing the opposite effect. “Well, I should get going now. Lots to unpack.”   “Okay.”   You’re about to close the door, and he steps away. But in the last second, Jimin spins around before you can seal yourself inside.    “Um, were you playing music?”   You’re silent and you blink at him owlishly. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep it down.”   Jimin nods. It’s not exactly what he meant — he wasn’t complaining. But he doesn’t linger to tell you so. He doesn’t want to make you feel tense and he feels like a creep enough. The last thing that Jimin wants is to be kicked out before he’s even fully settled in for being a complete weirdo.   Typically he’s not this socially inept. But he accepts that he’s made a horrible first impression and shuts the door.   Though as he leans on the smooth surface of it, he quirks his head to one side and his brows furrow. Strange. That voice sounded so familiar. And so tangible as if it were here and not a recording.   But he doesn’t dwell, going on about his night.   In the meanwhile, you try to sing quieter.

[kewltie]

"Get out of my way, extras," Katsuki yells, pushing through a throng of busybody who all decided at that moment to move as sluggishly as possible like they got nothing to do but stand in his way. "Fucking move it already!"

"Sorry, sorry, he hadn’t has his lunch yet," Eijirou says behind him to the people Katsuki had offended.

Which is not an uncommon thing around him; he'd rightfully pissed off more than a few people in this lifetime. What is uncommon is Katsuki storming his way through a police station in the afternoon with adrenaline and anticipation hot on his tail since he'd received that message from Captain Omari.

Zero, I believe we just had a major breakthrough with the Nine case. I suggest you come to the station this instance.

Nine, that fucking ratface bastard has been thorn in Katsuki side for so long now that there’s not a day he doesn’t think about grinding his face in the dust. Ruthless and cunning, Nine had managed to keep a tight rein of terror in Katsuki's city.

He'd went head to head against Nine in countless battles before, came out on top more than half it, but had been denied his rightful victory every fucking time Nine had clawed his way out and escaped Katsuki's grip. More than just beyond frustrating, it is his greatest humiliation.

Katsuki has been on this chase for three years now, right after his agency had took over the main patrol routes of the city, but Nine remains elusive as ever and for all Katsuki’s accomplishment and accolades he'd achieved so far – owning his own agency in just only five years after his debut, unseating the previous number one hero, and a growing list of villains he'd taken down and thrown in Tartarus. Nine's entire existence is an embarrassing mar on his more than stellar record.

Now, he finally get a chance to put Nine away for good and keep it that way, with no hope of that slimy bastard wiggling his way out of it this time around, because Katsuki is going to fucking destroy him.

Katsuki's legs eventually carry him right outside of a secure interrogation room, where two armed officers are station by the door.  "Ground Zero," one of them says, dipping his head in deference, "the captain is waiting for you in there."

He makes a grunt of acknowledgement. Just as he about to open the door with Eijirou close behind him, the officer on the left puts his hand out to block them from coming in.

"Sorry, sir, but the captain requested to only see Zero-san at the moment," he says.

Katsuki's eyes narrow. "What the fuck. He's my partner."

"S-sorry," the man says again, wilting under the force of Katsuki's glare, "but it’s captain's order."

Eijirou, who is less of an asshole than him and therefore marginally better at handling other people, just pats Katsuki's on the shoulder and shrugs. "Don't worry, just go on ahead without me. I'm sure, Captain Omari has a good reason for it."

Katsuki makes a face and lets out a resigned sigh. Nine is such a troublesome little shit that it became an inter-agencies mission to hunt him down with Katsuki leading the charge, bullying other agencies in the district to work with him because Nine is a public menace and UA had beaten him black and blue the lone wolf mentally out of him. Captain Omari had been supporting him from the side, doing menial investigations and interviews that Katsuki is too busy for.

They work closely together enough now that if the old man thinks this is serious enough to warrant secrecy, even though he trusts Eijirou with his life, then fuck Katsuki is going to respect it. "Fine," he grits out, giving Eijirou a nod, "you stay out here then. Wait for me."

Ejirou gives him a thumb up. "You got it, bro."

Katsuki rolls his eyes and turns to the officer, blocking him from entering currently. "Can I fucking go in now?" he demands.

"Uh, y-yes, of course, sir," the officer squeaks out, stepping aside so Katsuki can come through. Katsuki’s terrifying reputation precedes him once more. Good.

He opens the door with no resistance and walks into an even smaller room as the door shuts behind him. It's empty of occupant and a compact space with a large blackened glass mirror taking over one half of the wall, separating this room from another room where there's another door tucked to a corner.

There's no sound coming through from the other side, but he knows Omari is there and whatever lead he might have caught is there also. He thinks maybe it’s another witness to Nine’s crime or one of Nine’s associates finally coming in to turn against Nine for leniency later. The former is more likely than the latter, because nobody connected with Nine was stupid or insane enough to betrayed him; those fucking cowards.

Katsuki clenches and unclenches his hand, knowing that Omari wouldn't hail him here like this if he didn't expect something good to come out of it. He trusts Omari.

He walks over to the door, twists the knob open, pushes his way through and steps inside to a—nursery? There are kids on the floor, three bowed head shading away on pages of a coloring book and there's another one sitting nearby, watching them closely with a cool detachment.

Their quiet giggles and murmurs that had filled the room earlier stops abruptly at the sound of his entrance, and he's staring right into the eyes of youthful curiosity in some and heavy skepticism and wariness in others. These children make him feels stripped raw.

One, two, three, and four, he counts off in his head, from what look to be the oldest sitting in a chair against the wall with her hands carefully place on her lap and the youngest sandwiching between his other siblings, because they're clearly blood related with three of the four sharing the same eerie white hair and stormy grey eyes.

Only the youngest, no. 4, Katsuki quietly dubs in his head, sticks out like a sore thumb with a head full of  green curl and an even greener set of eyes that avoided his gaze.

"It's Ground Zero!" the little girl, no. 3, on the floor says with a delighted gasp, reaching over no. 4 to shake no. 2’s shoulder excitedly.

No. 2, a sour looking boy, grunts in annoyance and roll away from her touch. "I can see that, Akira. I'm not blind."

No. 4 huddles closer to no. 3 as though he can hide from Katsuki's scrutiny, while no. 1 doesn't even react to his presence, continuing to watch over her younger siblings with careful consideration.

Someone clears their throat and it's definitely none of the kids because Omari says, "Ah, there you are, Bakugou."

Katsuki jerks his head up to meet Omari's amused gaze. He'd been so preoccupied by these kids, who shouldn’t be here in the first place, that he didn’t even take notice of anybody else in the room and eve forgot the reason why he's here.

"Sorry," he grumbles. "I just—who the fuck are these brats?! And where the hell are their parents?!"

"Language," No. 1 snaps out, speaking up for the first time. There’s an arrogance lilt to her voice as her eyes narrow at him, finally deeming him important enough to be acknowledge. "Please watch your mouth around my younger siblings, Zero-san."

Katsuki glares at that tiny ball of superiority, who doesn't even flinch under the heat of his fury. She's cool as fucking ice and he has a lot of things he want to say about that, but wisely keeps his mouth shut because he's not getting into an argument with a fucking fetus.

Omari stifles a laugh at the hilarious theater unfolding before him, because it's not everyday Ground Zero get scolded by a child, and clears his throat again. "Sorry that I called you in such a hurry, but," he rises from his seat and steps back, "this is extremely important. I would like you to meet someone," he says, gesturing his hand out toward the other person, who'd been sitting quietly across the table from him.

Katsuki's eyes widen as he looks past Omari and into the face he hadn't seen in more than ten years. "Hello, Kacchan," Midoriya Izuku says. It’s same green curls, green eyes, and freckles dusting across his cheeks, but he’s older and surer of himself, looking particularly comfortable in his seat.

"W-what, Deku?!" Katsuki stumbles out, half in hysteric and disbelief. "I-I thought you fucking died! What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"Well, I see you have met my children," Izuku says instead, glancing over at the brats lovingly with a soft smile. "And they're the sole reason I'm here today."

The last time, Katsuki had seen Midoriya Izuku was when he was watching him get cart off into a car by the social services three days after Aunt Inko had died of a car accident; he was only thirteen. Quirkless, omega, and recently orphaned – Izuku was truly one of the world’s the unluckiest bastards.

Katsuki's mother had wanted to take Izuku in, but a young omega and alpha living under the same roof was ill advised and Katsuki would have fought it every single step. The social service simply wouldn't have it, and so Izuku became a ward of the state. Katsuki didn't see him again after that. Until now that is.

After more than ten years, he'd only assumed the worst.

Omegas, especially one that young, who had taken in by the state would eventually get fostered –  auctioned - off to eligible bachelor alphas as soon as they turn sixteen to be mated, leaving them with little to no choice but to comply.

Afterward, they tend to disappeared off the map.

Sometimes that means they're dead, other times they're alive but enslaved. Katsuki doesn't know which the better outcome is because they're both shit either way. His mother had tried to look for Izuku afterward and even Katsuki made his own attempt because he realized what a shit he was, but years had passed by and still nothing, no sign of a Midoriya Izuku at all. Eventually, Katsuki had to write Izuku off completely.

Now, he's standing in a secured room at a police station and Midoriya Izuku is not only alive, but whole and healthy. The only thing he can think of is: "These horrid little monsters are your kids?!"

No. 3's head perks up and she scowls at him. "Hey, hey, that's not nice!"

No. 2's eyes narrow, raising his fist up and looking at Katsuki's thoughtfully. "Should I kick him?" he offers.

No. 1 frowns, lips thinning out in unimpressed line. "Kouki, do not do that," she scolds at her brother. "We don't lower ourselves to his baser level."

No. 4 leans close to no. 3’s ear and whispers, not quite quiet enough, to his sister, "are we monster, Akira-nee?"

"Yea," she curls her fingers like they are claws at him and a low growl rumbles from her throat, "and I'mma eat you, Hikaru!" Her fingers attacks his side relentlessly.

No. 4 tries to fend off her attack with a fit of loud giggles and flailing hands, hiding behind no. 2 ,who only scowls before raising his fists up to defend no. 4 from no. 3, which quickly descends into a tickle fight. No. 1 looks upon her younger siblings and sighs deeply like they pained her.

"Yes," Izuku says, watching the tickle fight unfolding before them with barely contained amusement and fondness, "they're my most precious children." There's an entire world in those few words; a fierce love that could weather any storm. He turns toward no. 1 and gestures toward her. "Over there is my eldest daughter and pride, Yuko."

Yuko rises to her feet and lowers her head just slightly enough to show respect, but her cold gaze locking on him says another otherwise. "Hello," she greets, and a heavy beat, then, "Kacchan."

Katsuki's left eye twitch, but he holds his tongue as Izuku fails to hide his smile.

"My twins," Izuku continues, waving to the tangled limbs on the floor, "the sullen Kouki and fierce Akira, who are pulling at each other's hair."

"Papaaaaaaa," Akira whines, kicking Kouki in the side to get him off of her as Kouki grunts in pain, "Kouki is embarrassing me in front of Kacchan!"

Kouki releases his sister with a shove and scowls, which is all he seems to be able to do. "Kacchan," he sneers, "can eat my—"

"Kouki!" Yuko snaps, grey eyes flashing with heat.

Kouki stares up at Yuko for a beat, and then ducks his head dejectedly. "Sorry, Yuko-nii. Sorry, Papa."

"As you can see they’re my lovely twins," Izuku says, smiling proudly down at his children like his kids didn't tried to kill each other in front of him and there are witnesses to it. "And lastly my youngest and treasure, Hikaru."

Hikaru scrambles up from the floor and hurries to Izuku, climbing into his lap. He buries his face into Izuku's shoulder, hands fisting around Izuku's shirt tightly like he's trying to hide himself from the world, but slowly he raises his head away from Izuku to quietly and shyly says, "Hi, Kacchan."

Ok, Katsuki’s heart quickens just slightly there but the fact that he’s also adopting his older siblings' choice of name for Katsuki is—annoying. These kids have no fucking boundaries at all.

Katsuki scrubs his face, feeling a headache coming on. "Yea, thanks for introduction and all, I guess, but I still don't understand what the fu—" Yuko shoots him another quelling glare and Katsuki grimaces as he corrects himself, because this kid is not letting up, "is going on."

Omari, who had been letting Izuku lead the conversation so far, pips up finally, "I told you in the message earlier that I need you here." His expression straightens out and there’s a heavy solemnness to it. “It’s Nine. Izuku-san is here for Nine.”

With just that name alone the entire room freezes as though a forbidding cloud have descended upon them.

Yuko's shoulders tighten just minutely enough that if Katsuki didn't pay close attention he wouldn't have notice. The twins get up from the floor to stand behind their older sister, holding to each other in a united front like they're going to war. Izuku squeezes his arms around Hikaru, who ducks his head under his chin and tries to pretend nobody else exist in the room.

Katsuki frowns at the sudden change in the family's friendly atmosphere earlier. "What does that have to do with Deku and the kids?" he demands, even though there's a nagging feeling in his head that he’ll hate whatever words to come out of their mouth next.

"He's my husband," Izuku admits quietly, and it’s strained like the words had to dragged out of him, "and the sire of my children."

Yea, he fucking hates it. Katsuki feels like someone had just ripped the rug under him. "You married the bastard?!" he demands, storming up to Izuku. "Do you even know what kind of person he is?! He’s a murdering psychopath whose kill counts are in the triple digits!"

"Get away from my Papa," he hears Kouki yells off in the distance, but fuck Katsuki couldn't care less right now as Yuko scolds, "Kouki! Kouki, enough! Stop it."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the two sisters struggling to hold Kouki back from jumping Katsuki. For such a small body, there’s a lot of rage in him. Something that Katsuki is keenly familiar with.

"Kouki, please," Izuku says gently. And that's all it take for Kouki to completely exhausts his fighting spirit. "Sorry," he says, looking at Katsuki apologetically, "my kids are just protective." He looks down at the table separating them, hand carefully stroking Hikaru's back.

Katsuki casts a quick glance at Omari, who quietly shakes his head and keeps his mouth zip, clearly wanting Izuku to dictate the pace of the conversation. There's a story here, he knows, and Izuku and his kids are at the very center of it and Katsuki doesn't like it one bit. "Deku," he says awkwardly, like blubbering fool, "just take your time. I'll wait."

He finds himself in the uncomfortable position of having to comfort a distressed civilian and his wayward kids, which is not something Katsuki is used to. It should have been Eijirou rather, who always been better at this than him, but somehow that's not good enough.

"And it is because I know who my husband is that's why I'm here before you," Izuku reveals, voice steady and firm with each word. "When I'd married him, I was sixteen and had no other choice, but now my children are older and I will do anything to secure their future so that they have the choice that I didn't." He lifts his gaze and meets Katsuki's own, eyes bright and fierce with all the power of a parental love behind it; it’s a force to be reckon with. "I will not let my children become a monster like their sire. They will not be a villain of their own story," he declares to the entire room.

Katsuki cast a quick glance at Omari, a silence exchange passes between them, and Omari gives a short nod before Katsuki’s focus falls back on Izuku. "It would take us a few hours and a bit of work, but we can arrange to take you and your kids away right now," he offers. His mind is already racing with the logistic of it. It'll be rush job, but he knows they can do it. They will do it. Izuku won't accept anything less for his family and neither will Katsuki, this is something they can both agreed upon. "We can protect your family from Nine. Just tell us what you know of him and his operation and we'll take it from here," he presses.

Nine is still a main priority of him and his team even though he’s now terribly aware that the monster he had been dreaming of putting away for life has a spouse and kid, but even then Nine had ruined the idea of a family too with his taint. You have to be a certain kind of rotten bastard to invoke enough fear and anger in your family to have them turned on you.

Izuku smiles, but it’s too wide and crooked. "Thank you,” he shakes his head, “but no."

Katsuki blinks, then reels back in shock and annoyance. Does he even know what he’s rejecting?! "What do you mean no? Didn't you come here specifically for our help?!"

"You can't help me," Izuku says, slowly but firmly. "Nine has been given free ranged of this city for years, Kacchan, and you and your people couldn't even do anything to stop him. You didn't even know my family existed until now, because you had nothing on him. The only one who can help me right now is myself and I will be the one to put him down for good."

Katsuki flinches, instinctively the young hotheaded alpha in him rumbles unpleasantly. "What can you even do?!" He sneers. "You're what—a househusband? Last a check you're quirkless and an omega, what can you even do that we can't? Leave this to the pros, we'll take care of it."

Izuku winces, a flash of hurt runs across his face as his eyes lower to the table and his hand balls into a fist at the back of Hikaru, who cries out a soft, concern, "Papa?"

"Bakugou," Katsuki hears the infliction of a scold in Omari's voice, but he doesn't care. Izuku's earlier words had sting harder than he like to admit. He always know how to get under Katsuki’s skin even after all these years. Something never changes.

"Fuck you!" he hears a young, angry voice from the side then a flash of movement before he gets a face full of spite in Kouki. "You don't know what sort of hell we'd suffered in that house, so don't you ever talk that way to my Papa. He's more of a hero than any of you people!" His small fists clenched at his side, body bristling in defense and ready for a fight with him.

Katsuki casts a hasty, furtive glance at the other two who remains silence, but their silence is deafening with the way a wrought of disappointment and hurt runs across Akira's face. While Kouki's anger is all fire and brimstone, Yuko's contempt runs much deeper and colder in it placidly, enough to chills him to the bones. The fact that she didn't rebuke Kouki right away for his language tells Katsuki that there's a storm brewing behind those her cold grey eyes and he's the culprit for it.

Katsuki is a rightful asshole. He knows this, his friends like to remind him often enough, but he isn't a malicious one. Not anymore anyway. Being around Izuku though brought back that angry and dumb boy who only knows how to lash out and hurt others for the damage he'd perceived they committed against him.

That isn't him though. He isn’t that boy anymore.

He really thought he truly outgrown it, but confronted with the living memory of all his insecurities, he had regressed once more. Midoriya Izuku always got the better of him. Quirkless and omega be damned, because Izuku always broke Katsuki’s carefully laid boundaries and expectations.

That truth made him furious back then. Now it leaves him empty.

Katsuki takes several steps back from them, scrubs his face furiously, and exhales. A long, deep exhale and shoves out all his crumbling self doubts and fucked ups down, because this isn't about him. Not, not about him at all. "Sorry," he murmurs, embarrassed, then he remembers the face of those kids and sighs. "Sorry," he says again, louder and stronger this time around. "That's inexcusable. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way."

Omari looks so shock by his sudden apology that he nearly chokes on air. Izuku also seems surprised by his outburst by the slight hang of his lips, but it softens out into a small, shy smile that makes him appear much younger than he really is. Almost like the boy Katsuki used to know.

"No. 2 is right, I know shit so I shouldn't have assumed," Katsuki presses on, cheeks flushing at his own admission.

"No. 2? Did he mean Kouki?" Akira not whispers to her sister, because nobody in this fucking family knows how to do it properly.

Yuko hisses a, "be quiet, Akira," in return.

"Thank you," Izuku acknowledges with a curve of his lips, because he always been kinder and better than Katsuki in that regard. "I accept your apology, Kacchan."

Kouki only glares at him as he settles next to Izuku, arms folded and hovering close by as some sort of silent sentinel, but really he just look like a miniature protector. Kinda useless but an A for effort, Katsuki guesses.

"I understand where your doubt and hesitation is coming from, so I came prepared to prove my point," Izuku continues, jerking his head toward the two girls. "Yuko, would you please?"

"Yes, Papa," Yuko says, pulling back to rummage through her small purse, and takes out a pencil case from the bag.

Katsuki's brows furrow as Yuko approaches him with the fuzzy panda shape pencil case. He glances at Omari who also adopts a look of total confusion on his face too.

"Hand, please. This is for you, Kacchan," Yuko says coolly, depositing it onto his open palm. "Open it and look inside."

A tiny bit miffed at having to take order by a damn fetus, but he finds himself obeying anyway and unzips the bag to find four USB flash drives tucked inside and nothing else. He jerks his head up, eyes widen as Izuku gives him a knowing and purposeful smile that is full of bite. Izuku hasn't said anything yet, but Katsuki's heart is already racing with the hints of what to come.

"Those four flash drives contain all the information I've collected over ten years about my husband and his crime wave. They hold everything about his associates, sources, and businesses," Izuku explains. "Pictures, documentations, and weekly logs of what he had been up to for the past years. I had painstakingly gathered them together and put it all in those flash drives as evidence. And this is just four of the ten I made so far. The rest is to guarantee my children safety." He places his hands on the table and stares at Omari and Katsuki with a pointed look. "As you can see it's not that I need you, but it is you who need me," he finishes. "Like I said before, there is nothing I won't do for my children, so do I have your attention now?"

It has been over ten years since they had last seen each other — Katsuki had went on and seized the number one ranking as the top hero in the country, and Izuku had all disappeared from Katsuki’s life . Only to reappear before him as the spouse of one of the most dangerous villains in the world. And he even got four kids in tow now.

What utter bullshit.

If someone told him that this is their future — standing on opposing side, he, a hero, trying to put down a villain and Izuku, a quirkless omega, who effectively engineered his own husband downfall. It's absurd. Laughable even.  But here they both are, staring each other down like the clash of titans; an unstoppable force colliding with an unmovable object. Katsuki had fought more formidable foe than this married, quirkless omega in front of him, and yet, he shakes his head and sighs; a curious foreign feeling stirs within.

It's not awful and that's the thing, the rage and despair doesn't kick in even though he realizes who had come out of this battle of wills victorious. "Fine. Fucking fine. You win, Deku," he says with wry twist of his lips. "We'll do as you say and follow your lead."

A true smile spreads across Izuku's face that isn't hinder by any passing secrets and machination. It was one he reserved solely for his children. "Thank you, Kacchan," he says, tilting his head toward Katsuki. "I came to you because I knew I can trust you, but I didn't expect you to have grown this much too. It's a nice surprised," he admits, blush staining his cheeks as he looks away, unwilling to meet Katsuki's startled gaze.

"I—I, yea, uh, you too," Katsuki stumbles out like a total idiot as Omari sucks in a deep breath next to him, clearly amused by their entire exchange.

But he's the only one because Kouki's face crunches up like he'd ate something bitter, Yuko just glares at him with the force enough to level a city, and Akira's eyes widen as she glances back and forth between a blushing Izuku and Katsuki's foot in his mouth act.

"Ohmygod," Akira says horrified, a palm flying to her mouth.  

"Be quiet," Yuko hisses at her.

But it's not them, who is the final nail in the coffin for Katsuki and Izuku. Hikaru pushes himself away from Izuku's hold, enough to get look at him and frowns. "Papa, why is your face so red?" says Hikaru, brows furrowing worriedly. "Are—are you sick?"

"N—no, I'm fine," Izuku immediately denies, hands flying toward his face to cover himself from Hikaru's curious inquiry, but Hikaru is relentless.

"Then why are you hiding?" he demands, reaching for Izuku to pry the fingers away. And it's a battle between father and son.

Katsuki finds himself watching Deku—Izuku—who had easily flipped their power game around and put himself on top of them like it was nothing, now he's currently fighting off his son's curious attention and failing.

It's. All. Just. So. Fucking. Cute. Fuck him. He's going crazy now. Losing his fucking mind the longer he spend in here.

Kouki reaches over and snatches Hikaru's hand in his grip. "Stop," he orders, low and pointed. "You're bothering Papa."

Hikaru's head dips and he says quietly, "Sorry, Kouki-nii." And Kouki releases Hikaru's hand.

Izuku lets out a breath of relief. "Thank you, Kouki."

God, kill him now. Adorable. This family is going to be the death of him. Every one of them.  

He groans, rubbing his face as thought that will cure whatever fucking illness that had taken hold of him. He can hear Omari trying to smother a chuckle beside him.

Katsuki straightens up and clears his throat. "So shall we do next?"

Izuku places Hikaru on the floor, who quickly clambers toward Kouki to hold his older brother’s hand in his. "I'll head home with the kids for now and we go on as though nothing had changed as I gathered the last of my flash drives and the incriminating information for you," he tells them.

A brow shoots up to Katsuki's hairline. "Just like that? You're fine with coming back to him after all that shit?" Isn’t he scare of what Nine could do to them if he accidently slipped off somehow? Katsuki had seen all of Nine’s former associates choosing to be thrown in Tartarus rather than give up Nine, because of how much terror he had instill in all of them.

Izuku gives an amused snort. "I have been living with him since I was sixteen, young and helpless, and no power to fight back. I can handle him just fine."

Izuku may say it all nonchalantly, but there's strange flicker of his face that causes all his children tense up. It makes Katsuki want to reach out and grabs Izuku and his children so he can stuffed them away in a safe house so Nine can't touch any of them. Fucking slimy bastard.

Just because Izuku thinks he's okay doesn't make it so. Sometimes abuse doesn’t leave any physical imprints behind, but it grips the heart and poisoned everything else, leaving the victim just as damaged and broken in the same way.

But Izuku is no victim. He's a survivor. This is the most obvious thing he'd understood today.

"Okay, but if you need anything, you can contact me anytime," Katsuki says, holding his hands still at his side so he doesn't do anything stupid like reach out toward Izuku without his permission. "I'm here if you need me."

"Oh," Izuku breathes, a pink tint rises to his cheeks once more and Katsuki wonders how many times he can be the cause of it? And then proceeds to want to punch himself in the face for that train of thought. "I—I see, thank you for that offer. I wouldn't want to impose."

"No!" Katsuki says vehemently, feeling like he's losing his fucking mind here because he can't stop running his stupid mouth. "I don't fucking care. Impose away. It doesn't matter how small it is, just let me help you. You don't have to take on everything yourself."

Izuku's lips part, but no words come out as he stares at Katsuki with an inexplicable expression across his face, making Katsuki's edgy under the scrutiny like he’s picking Katsuki’s apart to see what make him tick.

Silence descends upon them.

Omari coughs into his hand, clearing the strange air between them. "If that will be all?

Izuku drags his gaze away from Katsuki enough to nods his head. "Yes, I'll contact you as soon as I finished my preparation," he says, rising to his feet.

Yea, the quicker they get the mission done with and throw Nine in prison, the sooner Izuku and his children can be free. And be out of Katsuki’s life and thought.

The only problem is the fucking waiting around, and he's not used to being still and holding out for others to take action first, but he's not leading this mission. It's all Izuku's. They're just following him along and aiding him, when Izuku is the one in control of everything.

It's a sore situation he finds himself in, but as Izuku steps away from the table to reveal his hand carefully resting over the tiny bump of his stomach. And Katsuki is not fucking dumb, okay? He knows what he's seeing. "Wait, you're pregnant?!" Katsuki demands, voice going scratchy high with disbelief.

Izuku pauses, glances down at his stomach as though he’d forgotten about it. "Ah, yes that's right." His face brightens as he rubs his slightly bulging belly. "I told you before, I would do anything to secure my children's future. No children of mine will be raised as monster. "

The children huddle around Izuku protectively, a united front against the world. This kind of bond goes beyond just blood. Forged in the fire of the hell they must have endure under Nine's fearful reign over their household.

He may not know their full story, but it's there. He can see it all over their face in the frigid glare of Yuko, the aggressive stance of Kouki, and the tightness of Akira's shoulders. But even among all that horror, there is hope still: "Hello, baby sister," Hikaru says softly to Izuku's belly, touching it fondly.

“Hey, it could be boy!” Akira protests.

“Girl,” Kouki says with a frown. “I want a little sister.”

“Don’t assume things,” Yuko lectures her siblings. “We don’t know yet!”

Izuku laughs, seemingly delighted by his children fighting over their newest sibling.

Katsuki is a pro-hero, fighting and protecting is part of his job, his duty; it's who he is, but looking at the family in front of him he has never been more seized by this wretched feeling to be better, to do better to earn their—trust and faith. Fuck, he just wants to be enough to deserve them. To be able to protect them against all the wrongs that had been dealt against them.

He wants them.

[animekath]

Just Say My Name!

Beetlejuice X Reader

Hey guys, Kat here!

Trying to push myself to make stories, but it’s hard because I’m tired all the time, but I’m hoping it’ll boost up after the holidays! Although I might be a supervisor after the new year, so I’ll still have less time for anything - 7 -”

Anyway! I wanted to make another story about Bj because I love him so much and he’s a giant cutie! I realise I’ve only done stories of cuties so far, but I can’t help myself!

I hope you enjoy it! Sorry for spelling and grammar!

Words: 4224

Warning: Sexual harassment (from the boss), Boss is a creep, revenge (humiliation), lightly humour, jealousy, kissing, fingering, marking, biting, praising, riding, A lot of ‘ing’, gentle to rough sex, creampie, Beetlejuice being a cute trashman!

Enjoy!

You slowly walked back home after a long afternoon in work, your stomach turning on what happened with your boss. Your boss worked hard, and he was well known in the company, which sucked for you because he was very ‘touchy’. His hands would brush against your sides, he would sometimes rub your lower back, and you could have sworn he has tapped your behind when he has walked past you. He always had that smile which made you anxious, knowing that would keep your mouth shut. You wanted to tell someone, but his power got the best of you. You heard a girl left because she said she was being harassed, but they did nothing about it, so she went.

You were trying to find another job, but it was tough nowadays. You didn’t want to walk out because you needed the money, you were saving up to leave your parents and get your own place.

This fucking sucks.

“Oh, you’re home!” Your father smiled when you walked in, giving him a fake smile back. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Thanks, dad. I’m just going to get changed.” You said as you took off your shoes before going upstairs. You sigh as you closed the door, taking off your jacket and tossing it on the chair. You walked to your closet to grab another shirt, but an enormous dead man jump scares as he deeply roared. “...Hey, Beej.” You said simply as you leaned passed him to grab a shirt.

He shrunk to his standard form, a small pout on his lips. “You know, you’re not fun anymore, now that you don’t get scared.” He huffed as he crossed his arms.

A soft chuckle left your lips as you went to your bathroom to change. “Because you have jumped out of my closet so many times now, pick something unique.” You called out, coming out of the bathroom, wearing a clean shirt.

“Hey, don’t give me pointers...! I am the best at scaring people...!” You just let out a hum as a reply, looking over yourself in the mirror, Beetlejuice noticing your downer mood. “Hey, you okay? You seem...Off?” He asked as he tilted his head.

“Hm? Oh yeah, sorry. Just a rough day, you know?” You shrugged as you looked over at him. “And my belly is feeling weird.” You chuckled weakly, a small frown on the man's face.

“Well, okay...But remember, I can deal with them shitty customers. All you have to do is say my name.” He then grinned as he floated towards you. “I will make them scared of workers forever, baby...!”

“Thanks, Beej, But it’s nothing. I’ll be fine.” You said, gently tapping his face before walking off. “Come on, let’s go downstairs, dinner is nearly ready. You can eat my leftovers.”

“Oh, hell yeah...!”

~~~

A few days went by, and your mood was lowering, Beetlejuice noticed your sudden change of attitude, but every time he asked you, you just shrugged it off and said you were okay. It was making the poor man frustrated that you won’t say his name so that he can deal with the bastards.

“Hey, sir. The boxes are sorted at the back, can I go home?” You asked. You already stayed an extra thirty minutes.

“Can you help me with a few other things? If you stay until ten, then you can leave early tomorrow, is that okay?” Your boss said as he walked over, his hands gently rubbing your shoulders as he smiled. That smile which made you uncomfortable.

“Urm...Okay, sir.” You muttered, your eyes drifting off to the side, not wanting to look him in the eye. “As long as I can leave early tomorrow.”

“Great!”

~~~

You came home later that night, dropping your bag and shoes near the door, walking upstairs to your room. Tonight was shit, you did everyone's work and didn’t even have time for your second break because everyone was dragging you all over the place. And your boss touched you again, making you sick to your stomach.

You hated everything!

You opened your door to see Beej on your bed. “Hey, sweetness! You’re finally back!” He said, his face brightened when he saw you. “I was wondering where you were; I was hoping you didn’t die.” He chuckled as he floated over, pulling you into a hug but you pulled away. “Woah, hey. Something up?”

“I just - I’m just tired, Beej. I want to sleep.” You muttered, sounding tired and fed up. You noticed his hair was mixed with yellow and purple, making you frown. You wrote down what the colours meant like he was a type of mood ring. “Hey, don’t give me that. I’m sorry, it’s not you...I just...Another rough day again.” You said as you went to your bed, flopping down without taking your work clothes off.

“Oh, um...Okay, baby. I’ll leave you.” He grunted, his hair going entirely purple.

“Hey, Beej.” You muttered before he left. “Can... Can you rest with me?” You asked. You just needed some affection to make you feel better, and you knew Beetlejuice liked to cuddle. He nods as a reply, resting beside you on your bed, making you snuggled up closer to his cold body. “Mmm...Thank you.” You hummed as you closed your eyes, not noticing his hair had turned a few strands of pink.

~~~

You started early morning at work again, your boss telling you what to do. “After that, you can leave, okay?” He smiled down at you. “Hmm...You shouldn’t put your hair like that; I think you should move it away from your face.” He said, tucking your hair behind your ear, his touching making you shiver. “Better...!” He said before walking off.

“Ugh...” You moved your hair back to where it was, a frown growing on your face. “Creep.” But you jumped when you heard a low growl, turning around to see Beetlejuice floating near you. “B-Beetlejuice...!?”

“It’s him, right? The one who makes you upset...?” He grunted out, his hair turning a shade of purple and red. “Say my name...Just say it so that I can destroy him...!” He said in a severe tone, sending daggers to the man's head.

“Beej, please go...! Can we talk about this at home?” You whispered to him so your workers would overhear. “Now is not the time, please?” You begged him. You heard your boss call you, making you walk away from the demon. You, being this close to him, made his hair turn red.

~~~

It was finally time to leave, so excited to go early and spend time with your sister. Lydia wanted to go to the park and take pictures, hoping to find a dead bird or something...dead, at least. You hadn’t seen Beetlejuice when you told him to leave, but you could still feel him around you.

“Sir, everything is done. I’m going to head off now...!” You said, but your boss gave a small hiss.

“Yeaaaaah - I need you to stay until the end again.” He said, your jaw dropped by his words.

“Wh-...What? But I stayed behind last night for three hours, and I didn’t even get a break. I busted my ass off all day as well, and I can’t go? I made plans with my sister, I-” You stammered, your boss cutting you off.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry, but it has to be done. We need you until seven again; my hands are tied.” He said as he put his hands up in defence. He walked over to you, his hand placed on your lower back, your eyes noticing the lights flickering above you. “But, hey...! You can leave early next week, okay? I promise.” He said with that smile you hated, feeling his hand tapping your butt before he walked off.

This was fucking shit!

You bust your ass day and night for him and this store, and he can’t even let you leave early!? “...No! No, this is bullshit...!” You said as you walked over to him, your boss giving you a serious look. “I have busted my ass for you and this is all I get!? A late shift out and your creepy hands all over me!?”

“_____, drop it.” He replied, his voice low. “You do what I say, now keep quiet...”

“No! I have another thing to say to you!” You said, your eyes staring at him.

“Beetlejuice...”

Your boss blinked when the lights flickered again before laughing at the strange word. “What? What the heck is that?” He questioned.

“Beetlejuice.”

“Stop your childish talk and get back to work...!” He snapped.

You didn’t. You felt your man behind you, practically floating over you with a wide grin on his face, his hair still crazy and pure red. “One more, baby! Just say. My. Name!”

“...Beetlejuice!” 

You shouted; your boss’s eyes widen in horror when he saw the man appear over you in a green mist. “W-W-What is that!?” 

Beetlejuice crackled as he did up his tie, cracking his neck side to side. “It’s showtime!”

Your boss looked down at himself, seeing beetles crawling up his legs, making him scream as he ran on the shop floor. “GET THEM OFF ME! GET THEM OFF ME!” He cried out as he kicked off his pants, customers and other works looking at him with shock and confusion. Nothing was on him, what was he talking about? Beetlejuice rolled up his sleeves and started to control his body, your boss shaking before having a bright smile on his face. He stripped off his shirt and started playing with his nipples. “Oh my, I am such a horny man! I harass my workers and treat them like shit! Oh goooood, I love touching young girls!”

You snickered as you watched from the back, looking through the small door window. You saw a mother covering her daughter's eyes as she gave your boss a disturbing look, an older man looking like he might have a heart attack and your workers started laughing at him. This was brilliant! That fucking creep deserves this! It sparked joy and excitement through your body, looking over at Beetlejuice who was still moving his arms. “Beej, this is amazing! Thank you, thank you!” You practically jumped to embrace him, placing a deep kiss on his lips, making the dead man freeze.

This made your boss stop moving, his face beat red with embarrassment and horror before running out of the store, screaming. That was the last time you saw his awful face.

You pulled away from the kiss to look up at him, both of you looking at each other with shocked, awe faces. His hands were on your waist to support you, but you didn’t feel uncomfortable, you liked his hands on you. They made you feel safe and protective, wanting nothing but to hold him longer.  “I...” You flustered, pulling away from the embrace. “Sorry about that...Thank you, Beej.” You muttered, barely making eye contact.

“I-ur...Sure, Sweetness.” He grunted, rubbing the back of his neck, his hair turning bright pink. It was the first time seeing him speechless. “I - I would do anything to make you happy.”

A smile appeared on your face as you still didn’t look at him, too shy to look see his face. “Hm... Thank you...Come on. Let’s go see Lydia.”

~~~

That afternoon, you met up with your sister and told her everything. Well, besides the kiss. She laughed but soon looked a bit bothered that you didn’t tell her that you were being harassed by your boss, knowing she would be beside you to help in any way. It made you happy that your younger sister wanted to stick up for you, your nerves calming down. You felt silly that you didn’t do it sooner, you had her and Beetlejuice beside you.

Speaking off Beetlejuice, he was reticent when you and your sister talked, his hair still having a few strands of pink. He floated close to both of you, noticing his eyes were watching over you. It seemed like he was thinking, knowing that since his eyes would drift away, his hair changing different colours. 

When the sky started getting darker, the three of you walked back home together and had dinner with your parents. What surprised you were that Beej didn't eat the leftovers on anyone's plates, Lydia even raising a brow as his sudden change today, she especially noticed it in the park. Your sister asked you again if anything happened between you two, which you flusteredly denied.

It got to bedtime, everyone going to their rooms to rest, you slipping on your pyjamas before you got into bed. Sadly, you couldn’t sleep. You stayed curled up in bed with your eyes open, only looking at the creases on the bedsheets and sometimes glancing at the night sky through the window. Your heart was ramming in your chest, making you grumble as you hugged the blankets more. “Hmm-Fuck” Your body felt uncomfortable under the tangled sheets, tossing it off your body as you sat up.

You wanted, no, you needed - “Beetlejuice.”

Your eyes drifted up to see the dead man floating in front of you when you called his name, his hair pink with a hint of orange on the ends. Was he a bit confused as to why you called him? You went onto your knees in front of him, gently cupping his cheeks to bring him into a kiss, feeling his body stiffen under your touch. “Mm... Beej.” You muttered, grabbing his hand to guide it to your chest, making him feel your heart beating.

Beetlejuice got the picture, his hair turning pink as he looked over you. “Baby...I - Fuck.” His confidence came back, pulling you into another kiss as he rested you back on the bed, his body fitting perfectly against you. You felt his hand holding your waist while his other was placed next to your head to keep himself steady. Your hands were against his chest as you kissed but slowly ran up to go through his hair, hearing the boy hum. Oh, Beej loved you touching his hair, he craved it.

You felt Beetlejuice’s little fang gently bit your bottom lip, his bright, green eyes watching you accept his offer, waiting for your permission to continue. You weakly smiled up at him, pulling him down for another kiss, with your tongues tangled in lustful pleasure. You loved his weight on top of you. His body may be cold, but your body felt on fire, wondering if he could smell your excitement between your legs. You knew he had an excellent keen for smelling things from miles away. You bucked your pelvis into him, hearing Beej hitch by the sudden movement but he started grinding himself into you as well, feeling his hardening cock against your thigh.

Beej forgot that you needed air, pulling away from the heated kiss. “Baby...Do you?” He raised a brow at your flustered form, a shiver running up your spine as you felt his cold fingertips seeping a bit under your shirt, waiting for your reply. He was an impatient man, wanting nothing but to ravish you in kisses and marks, but he held himself back for you.

“Yes. I’ve wanted this for a while.” You breathed out, seeing the demon grinning down at you. “Same, baby.” He replied before deeply kissing you again, his hand running along your stomach, to your chest to palm them with his rough hand. His other run up your thigh, letting out a whimper by his touch.

“Mmm...I have thought about this for so long; I thought my head was going to burst soon.” He muttered, his lips running along your neck to kiss and nibble. “Fuck, sweetheart, do you know what you do to me?” He growled low, your lower belly heating by his words and touch. His hands pulled away to unbutton your shirt, his eyes awing at your body, looking like a dessert he was ready to devour. “Damn. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He purred out, chuckling when he saw you stir underneath him. “No need to be flustered. Just relax and let me taste you.”

He kissed you again, his hand sliding down your stomach and sneaked under the waistband of your pyjama pants, slipping in your underwear to press his finger on your clit. Your hips moved on their own as he touched you, moaning against his lips as he continued. His middle finger rubbed against your wet slit before slipping inside you, Beetlejuice letting out a low purr. “Shit, baby. You’re so wet. I could smell you but fuck-” He chuckled. His finger moved in and out of your pussy, moaning when his finger curled to rub your slick walls, seeing the wide grin on his lips.

He looked like the alpha, waiting for his meat to weaken until he attacked. You were fascinated by his eyes practically glowing in the dark bedroom. “That’s it, sweetheart...Keep moaning for me. Every lovely moan is for me.” He hummed, placing kisses on your neck which slid down to your chest. He sucked at your chest and collar bone, wanting to leave his mark on you, so people knew you were taken.

It made him enraged that a man touched you. He wanted to rip his head off that he made you so upset, no one touches his breather! You both knew you needed to talk about what happens after, a demon and breather together, but at the moment, you both didn’t give a shit. He just wanted to make you moan and cry for him. He didn’t care how; hands, teeth, mouth, cock, he just wanted you to quiver beneath him.

“B-Beej - Mmm...!” You moaned when his tongue ran along your nipple before sucking on it, feeling his fang lightly dig into your skin. “Nnh!” You gasped when he slipped in a second finger, pumping them inside until your juices were covering his fingers and your underwear, embarrassed how wet you got for him. “Oh god, Beej...! I-It’s so good.” You shuttered, feeling his smile against your skin. “Ah!” He moved over to your other nipple to give it some attention as well.

Your body stirred underneath his more solid form, opening your legs more for him to quicken his pace, letting out cries and moaning his name. His thumb pressed on your clit, making you jolt by his sudden touch to your sensitive area. “Ah-! B-Beej, please. I...I need-!” You gripped onto his shirt when he curled his fingers inside you. “I need you...!”

“Shit, Sweetheart. Saying stuff like that gets me putty.” He purred against your chest before pulling away, sighing when he pulled his fingers out from your soaked pussy. He grinned as his fingers glistened with your juices, now cleaning them with his tongue. “Mmm - Oh god/Satan! You taste so good...!” He growled as he licked his fingers. “I can eat you out for hours, but you sound like you need me.” He saw you moved your body up, unbuttoning his shirt to slide it off. “Oh-” He suddenly got a bit anxious when you started to strip him of his clothing.

You saw his reaction, a small smile on your face as you kissed along his chest to his belly. “You’re so handsome. I get to have you all to myself.” You purred out, seeing his hair turning pink once again. Beetlejuice didn’t think you would like his little belly and hairs which scattered across his body. But hearing your comment made his chest swell which he never thought could happen. You slipped off your pants and underwear, so both of you were bare. “Mmm...” You leaned forward to kiss along his neck, a shiver running up his spine, sighing from the sweet attention.

You got his full attention when you rub yourself against his thick shaft, groaning when his tip brushed against your slit. “Oh, baby. Please, don’t tease this old guy.” He grunted out, his hand gently squeezing your hip for you to lower yourself. “I need my good girl.”

“Good girl, huh?” You chuckled, both of you hummed when his tip slipped in. “O-Okay...If I wait any more time, I’ll break.” You breathed out, lowering yourself down his shaft, moaning when you’re fully sat on his lap. “Mm! Beej...!”

“_____...Oh, baby - Fuck, yes.” Beetlejuice moaned when he was fully inside, feeling your pussy pulse around his shaft. “You feel amazing...Better then, I imagined.” He purred, pressing you against his body as he kissed you. You ran your fingers through his tangled hair, slowly raising and lowering your hips to feel every inch inside your slick cunt. His nails lightly dug into your hips as you started to ride him, moaning when his sensitive tip grazed your walls.

“Mm... Beej, fuck - K-Keep bucking your hips into me.” You moaned out, feeling him kiss your neck again. “Yes, yes...Oh, Beetlejuice. You feel so good...I need you.” You lightly gripped onto his hair when you moved your hips a bit faster, the demon groaning against your neck.

“You have me, baby, you fucking have me.” He bit your collar bone, leaving new marks on you. “Keep riding me, and I’ll kneel to everything you tell me to do. Ah - shit. You’re beautiful, Sweetheart.” He praised you, moving you down to make you go deeper, your ass slapping against his thick thighs.

You both held each other in the pleasuring embrace, groaning and moaning against each other's skin, Beetlejuice's body heating up because of you. He felt your nails run down his back, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head, hoping you leave marks on him. “Baby...Can - Can you say my name?” He breathed out, looking up at your flustered face. “My first name...Please, I’m begging you.”

You kissed him, slipping out a moan after. “Lawrence...You feel amazing, L-Lawrence. I’m yours...” You muttered, seeing his eyes spark. “-Ah!” He pinned you to the bed, his body on top of you and his hands holding up your thighs up. “B-Bee-Fuck!” You let out a cry when he thrusts into you, feeling him go deeper in this position. 

“_____, Sweetheart - Ngh!” Beetlejuice’s mind went blank as he pounded into you, his fingers digging into your thighs as he held them up. His hips slapped against yours as he fucked your pussy, his rough thrusting made you hold the bed as the other gripped his arm. “You feel amazing, hah. You’re clamping around me.” He grunted out, biting his bottom lip.

“B-Beej! Fuck, you’re so deep!” You breathed heavily as he continued. Your breathing increased by the rough pleasure, hearing the lewd wet sounds between you two as his cock slipped in and out of your pussy. Oh fuck, the thought just made your walls clamp him more. “A-Anymore and I’ll-!”

“I know, baby. I want you to.” His dilated eyes looked down at you, close to coming at how hot you looked underneath him. “Ah, I am too. I want you to come first.” His hand went down and rubbed your clit, his rough fingers making you jolt with pleasure. “Please, baby, please. I want to watch you come on my dick.” He said, nearly sounding like a whine. He watched your body shutter underneath him, your hips bucking into him. “Come on...Come for me...!”

“B-Beetlejuice! Yes, yes!” Your moaning increased in volume when your lower stomach tightened, finally at your release. “Ah!”“_____!” The dead man couldn’t hold himself any longer when your walls milked him, taking a deep thrust inside as he came, his cum filling up your womb. “Fucking shit!” He moved his hips until he relaxed from his climax, his pumping making his cum leak out of your sensitive pussy. “Yes, baby...Fuck. You did so...” Beej sighs softly, resting his forehead on yours. “I loved it.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving his lips a peck. “Mm, I did too.” You let out a weak giggle, your legs feeling like jelly as they shook. “That was - That was intense.” You hummed when Beej pulled out, seeing his cum leaking out of you. He cuddled up to your heated body, hugging your waist. “Thank you...”

“Heh, no need to thank me. I should be thanking you, baby.” He chuckled as his hand gently rubbed your back. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages, but - ur...I didn’t think you’d be into an old dead guy like me.” He grumbled, having a nervous smile on his lips.

“You’re not that old. Well, you don’t look five hundred years old anyway.” You smiled, your hand playing with his hair on his chest. “I like you, Beetlejuice. But you’re so cool, and I’m dull compared to you.”

“You!?” He huffed. “Never, baby. You’re amazing and sexy as hell/heaven!” He kissed you again. “But I don’t want any guy touching you, never.”

You smiled, playing with his hair when it had different coloured streaks. “Never...I only want you, Lawrence.”

~~~

“Now that we’re a couple, can you marry me!?”

“Haha, yeah-Give it a couple of years, big guy.”

He pouted.

THE END! o 7 o

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Bluegrass-Chapter Nine

                    A special thank you to @statell​ for all your help and wisdom

Previous Chapters on AO3

Chapter Nine

Claire was on her second day of coaching Runner about his air transport to the upcoming races. So far, all he wanted to do is race her. She was getting nowhere. When the answer came to her it was inspired and she smiled wickedly.

Later, Claire was in Runner's stall as he chowed down on fresh hay. She had 8X10 glossy pictures of some very fine, and fast horses. She taped the pictures to the back wall at Runner’s eye level and waited. She stroked Porcelain. Runner started throwing images at her of him beating these horses.

“Who is that horse? Oh, that’s Sham. He is favored to win the Champagne Stakes.” She threw him an image of Sham beating him.

“This little beauty is Angle Fire and she will beat you too.”

The hay was forgotten as Runner paced, getting more worked up by the minute. He sent an image of him crossing the finish line and the other two horses were way down the track, laying down. Claire laughed at the image and grabbed his face.

“The only way to race them is to ride the airplane. So be a good boy and don’t act up.”

She saw the last image of the sleeping competitors and Runner’s big finish several more times that day. He was stuck on racing them to the exclusion of every other thought. So easy, she thought.

Rupert’s giant king cab waited at the bottom of Claire’s stairs. Jamie stowed her cases and jumped in the front seat listening to Rupert explain what happened to Runner that morning at the airport.

“I’ve never seen a horse more eager to board a plane. He dragged the handler up the ramp and backed into his flight stall in under ten seconds.” They were laughing while Claire looked out the window with a slight smile. I’ve got your number Runner, she thought.

When Nick was picked up, Jamie got in the back seat to pester Claire and slapping his hand made Rupert look at her in the rearview mirror.

“Yer always pretty lass, but with yer hair down like that yer beautiful.”

Claire blushed and thanked him, and Jamie knew Rupert must be under her spell to make such a comment. He kissed her hand and felt like the luckiest man in the world.

Through the flight to New York and for the rest of the afternoon Claire tried to get Nick's attention. She wanted to talk about actually riding Runner as a partner and having input into the way he ran the race. After dinner, she pulled his arm until he stopped and looked down at her.

“Nick, you promised we would talk about techniques I can use on Runner…to help him make decisions, to actually decide for him.” Her voice got smaller as she completed the sentence because Nick was staring at her with irritation.

“Sure Claire, just pick the race you want to lose and go for it. Make him dance like a ballerina if you want, I don’t care because the race was lost as soon as you interfered.”

The blood drained out of Claire’s face and she looked at him like she didn’t know him. She felt humiliated the way he talked down to her and hated his heavy hand in the decisions about how Runner would race. Her anger and hurt feelings made this conversation impossible to continue so she took off toward the hotel.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Nick? Do ye really feel that way, are ye blind to the bond they have?”

Jamie’s face was purple with his rage as he fired off questions to the insufferable trainer. He wanted to rip his skin off for the way he talked to Claire, but found himself looking at a puffed-up self-anointed king of the trainers and his energy to hurt the man blew away.

“I won’t be needin your services anymore Nick, yer fired. I’ll have a ticket delivered to yer room and ye won’t be runnin into Claire on yer way out, by chance or otherwise. Yer done here, now get away from me.”

Nick looked at Jamie like he had lost his mind. He had trained racehorses for twenty years, no one knew this sport better than him.

“It’s a fluke that horse has won what he has. You put a rider with no history of racing on him and bet the farm on a retarded Thoroughbred that got lucky at Iroquise. He’s gonna kill your little girlfriend when he gets twisted up at the gate. Maybe she won't be missed. A guy like you must have a dozen waiting to take her place. That's on you, Jamie. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Jamie drew back and landed his fist in the jaw of one ex-trainer who went down like a sack of potatoes. He was out cold, so Jamie pulled a one hundred dollar bill out of his pocket and asked the Maitra d’ if there was someone to drive him to the airport.

“Tell him to listen for his name so he knows where to pick up his ticket home.”

Jamie’s thighs were burning when he raced back to the elevator and stepped off on their floor. He wanted to cry for Claire and tried to imagine her disappointment. The room was dark, but he could hear her sniffling in the corner. He knelt in front of her and waited, hoping he could fix this.

“I am so sorry mo chridhe. I don’t even know Nick anymore and never expected this. I didn’t know Claire.”

“I knew something was wrong when he never worked with Runner like the others. Nick was never serious about Runner, or me. Just keep him away from me, please.”

“I knocked him out, right there in the lobby, just after I fired him. Paid the Maitra d’ to drop him at the airport.”

Claire touched his cheek, “we have lost someone I felt was a valued member of the team. Runner needs a trainer, so what do we do now?”

“If you had one hundred trainers to choose from, all ages and backgrounds, varied experience with winners, which would you choose?”

“That’s easy,” she whispered through her tears, “I would pick the one that knew the science and didn’t fall back on his excessive, unproductive time on the track. I’d pick the one who used science to win.”

Jamie let Claire rest while he met Air Horse One at the airport and watched his goofy horse almost drag the handler down the ramp. Runner was looking around, nostrils flared, ready to explode until he saw Jamie and whinnied hello. Jamie asked the handler for a few minutes with Runner and felt the big colt pull the stress out of him.

“One more leg of yer journey my friend, and you get dinner and a rest.”

The handler took the rope and Runner resumed dragging him to the trailer where he ran inside and waited for the cross ties to clip to his halter. Jamie looked at Runner and shook his head, wondering why he was in such a hurry.

The alarm seemed ear-splitting at five o’clock in the morning. Claire pulled her riding clothes and boots on while Jamie stood under a hot shower praying for strength. Runner was still percolating high octane energy making Claire laugh at his head twisting in every direction looking for Sham and Angle Light.

Claire looked at the training schedule Nick left behind in his unconscious haste to leave. She read through his scant notes about Runner and compared them to pages of notes on the other horses he worked with. She felt her blood boil and realized she had lost faith in Nick’s training slamming the book closed. She looked at Runner.

“Let’s see how motivated you are today big guy.”

Jamie lifted her foot and held Runner while she adjusted her stirrups before turning into the track to warm up. Thirty minutes later she rode up next to Jamie who was deep in a conversation with a gentleman she didn’t know. She smiled and lowered her goggles. She circled in a canter before she let him go for a one and half mile breeze. Runner stretched into his stride, but Claire could tell his heart wasn’t in it today. She always got this feeling during training. If there was no one to beat, he often asked her why he was running.

When Runner was cooled down, Claire jumped off and secured her stirrups.

“I’ll take care of that Doctor Beauchamp.”

A young man, around twenty she guessed, pulled the reins over his head and smiled at her. “Mister Fraser hired me for your groom while you’re in New York. I will be here before you every day and hopefully, this big guy will grow to like me.”

Claire was stunned. She managed a smile for the pleasant man and offered her hand, pulling her glove off quickly.

“What is your name sir?”

“Ha, it’s weird enough you’re a female jockey, and you’re British too, that’s awesome. Oh, my name is Jason Campbell,” he said shaking her hand.

“Thank you, Jason, very pleased to meet you.”

The boy blushed and walked Runner toward the stalls and wash racks.

Claire walked to Jamie and the man he had been talking to. Both men stood while she sat next to Jamie pulling off her second glove.

“Sassenach, I’ve been talkin to Michael here about needin a trainer for Runner. He watched yer ride and asked me questions I dinna know. Perhaps you can supply the answers.”

Claire looked into the intelligent and questioning eyes of the man named Michael. He was twenty-something with an easy manner about him. Claire surmised this was just a trackside conversation and settled in to answer his questions.

“Do you hand ride him during races, like you did in today’s training?”

“Yes. I carry a regulation whip, but I’ve never needed to use it. Thankfully, because I don’t know how. Runner wants to win, so I let him.”

“Your body position is very different from the norm. I saw that you crouched and ducked your head in the last quarter mile, otherwise your …um…position was different. Why do you ride like that?”

“Let me help you ask the right question. I appreciate your gentlemanly tact sir but what you want to ask is why is my ass so high off the saddle and my hand holding his mane?”

“The Royal Veterinary college studied this position and the monkey crouch finding the open position kept the body weight forward and lessened the burden of the horse moving through space. They used…”

“Forty-five GPS monitors to watch the jockey’s body as the horse moved under him.”

Claire’s eyes went wide knowing this man was familiar with the study. “To be honest, it is my natural position, I mean it happened naturally. No one would show me how to position myself so that’s what I did.”

“No one demonstrated your position in school? How do they keep the doors open?”

“I am a veterinarian. I never went to jockey school, I don’t know any jockeys. I ride hunter-jumpers.”

Michael stared at Claire like she was speaking another language. “I have never heard of something more preposterous, however, I know it’s true, I can feel it from both of you. How utterly remarkable you can compete with world-class jockeys. It’s impressive.”

Yes, well, my wanting to take part in his race suddenly turned our trainer into a jerk and Jamie fired him. I know Runner is ready for the Champagne Stakes. What happens then, when there is no trainer to get him ready for the Hopeful Stakes in three weeks?

“That’s why you don’t use a crop, you don’t know how. The way he ran today I doubt you’ll ever need to.” Michael pushed his chair back so he could see both Jamie and Claire.

“If you don’t mind, may I ask how far you intend to go on the road to the derby?”

“We are going to win the Kentucky Derby sir. It’s Jamie’s dream, then I go back to being a vet.”

Michael sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin thinking. He knew this was a serendipitous moment in time, and he wanted to be a part of this remarkable story, no matter what.

“Can I come too?”

Claire looked at Jamie like she didn’t understand and then smiled at Michael with a questioning face.

“I graduated with a Master’s degree from the University of Michigan last year. I want to train Thoroughbreds and make a name for myself while I change the standard of whipping a horse over the finish line. I have prayed for a miracle and this is it!”

Claire looked at Jamie and laughed.

“I have a proposition for you both, may I explain it please.”

Jamie who had remained quiet for the past twenty minutes looked the man in the eye, “you have our attention, sir.”

“Let me train them, Mister Fraser. Half of my graduate curriculum was preparing me for a horse like Runner. Claire should be an active partner in the race. He seems to run all on his own, but he won’t always. When you start the super six he will be exhausted and whatever means you use to make it fun won’t work anymore. That’s where Claire takes over the race and keeps him going, guides his leads around the turns, holds him back for the first half mile and then lets him go. I want to come with you and train him. If we get to the derby I will write his story, Claire’s story, and mine. It will be a best seller and the world will never forget his name.”

“That’s quite an offer Michael, how do you eat in the interim?”

“Books and magazines.”

Claire recoiled at the thought of eating books and Michael noticed her reaction.

“No, I don’t eat them. My family is in publishing. I am sole heir to Pearson Publishing. I spent some time on the track five years ago and fell in love with Thoroughbreds. I don’t need a paycheck, but I want first rights to publish this amazing story.”

Michael had worked up a sweat in his excitement talking about training Runner. Jamie and Claire were speechless and got carried away with his excitement. Jamie could not untangle all the facts that had just poured out of the man’s mouth but when he looked at Claire, he knew the decision was made.

“Do you have track time this afternoon Claire?”

“Yes, five-thirty. What should I be doing?”

“An hour of breeze, then the short track to work on his leads. Tracks in America are run counterclockwise so he will make the best time on the right lead along the straight track, and change to the left lead around the turns. He isn’t changing leads in the turn and it’s costing him time. “

Claire stood up, “will I see you there?”

“You will see me everywhere Doctor Beauchamp.”

“Well, alright, but enough of the formality. He is Jamie and I am Claire.”

They checked on Runner who was sending Claire images of beating Sham and Angle Light. She laughed and kissed his nose before catching up with Jamie.

Claire lathered under a hot shower and thought about the race tomorrow. She no longer had the fear of death before a race. Her fear now focused on losing the race because Runner was out competed, or God forbid, she made a mistake that cost them the race.

With a big fluffy towel on her head and another wrapped around her body, she sat at the vanity and rubbed lotion into her skin. She could see Jamie behind her on the bed, grabbing some dream time while he could.

He was breathtaking. Easily the most handsome man she ever met. Her eyes swept over his chest and stomach, dipping into the region that brought her intense pleasure and she felt her heart quicken. She pulled the towels off and fluffed her hair as she made her way to him and purposely made little movement on the bed so he wouldn’t wake. She wanted time with his body. To look at every inch of him and touch his secret places.

She kissed his balls before sucking one into her mouth, lightly holding his penis up to watch it get hard. She had no will power to tease. She needed to come and ran her tongue up his shaft and circled the head. She heard him moan and slowly pulled him into her mouth pushing him as deep as she could before she choked. She felt a strong hand grab her hair and force her down on him and then back up until he reached for her and dragged her up on his chest. She could feel his cock pushing against her core, threatening her sanity as he bit her nipple and then feasted on the whole breast.

Jamie was energized and hungry for her. Pulling her to his chest before he rolled off the bed. He kissed her away from the bed and spun her back to his chest as he bent to place his hands behind her knees and lift her, spreading her legs so she was wide open, her pussy hovering above his dick. She reached her hands above her and locked them together behind his neck.

“Look mo chridhe, look at what I’m doin to ye.”

They were in front of the vanity and mirror and she could clearly see her body, wide open and descending on him.

“Jesus Christ, that is hot.”

She was completely dependent on Jamie to move her, set her pace, and open her legs. Claire was breathing hard, staring at the coupling reflected in the mirror. It was something she could never see without his assistance and the erotic view made her pant and moan. She was begging him to make her come when he walked back to the bed and lifted her off of him setting her down on her knees and pushing her head to the bed.

Jamie watched his cock slide into her body and shuttered at the site. When he pushed harder his hips slammed into her ass making it quiver until he was ready to lose it. He loved the erotic image, but he needed to feel the connection by looking into her eyes. He dropped his mouth to her until she exploded in her release. He flipped her over and locked into her energy, her eyes, and what felt like her soul. Jamie took his time as they spoke volumes about love, commitment, and desire without saying a single word. Jamie pumped his hopes and desires into her and clutched her to him. Claire dropped her head into his panting chest and cried.

Michael had lost none of his enthusiasm by the afternoon and stayed close to Claire to coach her through the crucial lead changes that Runner wasn’t used to doing. Claire knew the instant Runner understood what to do. After that, there were two quick reminders and he instantly corrected his lead.

Claire wore her new silks for race day and when Jamie lifted her foot into the saddle, she was the very definition of calm determination. Runner knew it was time to race and shot blinking pictures of him winning as they were ponied to the gate.

Michael stayed up in the stands, high enough to get the whole race on his video recorder. Jamie admired his equipment, all very high tech, and his confidence in this man grew a bit. He had tried to vet Michael, but the weekend made it impossible to reach the registrar’s office at the University of Michigan. He was able to bring up photos of Michael on the internet which proved he was the only son and heir to Pearson enterprises.

Claire stayed quiet in the saddle as the horses were loaded into the gate. Runner would be coming out of gate 3 in a nine-horse race and would face all the old habits of breaking late and hanging back. She wondered if Jamie thought to mention that to Michael.

When the gate slammed open, Claire was off Runner’s back, ready to move. The pack of horses was well away before Runner bolted into his race lane, running a methodical slow race to the first turn. Claire could feel the easier gate as he changed to his left lead in the turn and then engaged his power. It felt like she was flying as he chased up the outside and caught up to the pack. Even with the deafening sound of hooves pounding the dirt she could hear the roar of the crowd as Runner past one horse after another. He told her he would run very fast to catch up to Sham and Angle Light. Claire tucked close to him, no time to hope, no time to pray, Runner became a bullet, coming out of the second turn with Sham and Angle Light twenty lengths ahead, he lengthened his body as his front feet pounded the ground at the same time making each stride a leap to cover ground. Claire felt her heart sinking as the finish line came into view but suddenly Angle Light was fading behind her and she was neck and neck with Sham’s jockey who whipped the horse mercilessly.

She realized that Runner was keeping pace with Sham so he could torture him and she let him know, in no uncertain terms, it was time to win. He did. Claire was screaming at him with her joy and disbelief he had done it again.

“Runner! You big beautiful horse! You won the Champagne Stakes! You won, you won, you won. Thank God, thank you, God!” Runner was still in a gallop as Claire tried to pull him back, slow him down, but he wasn’t listening. When she saw Angle Light ahead, she knew he just had to race by her and flaunt his win. She let him, after which he obediently started to slow down. She looked for Jamie in the stands, and on her second loop, she saw him and Michael at the rail waving. Claire was crying with joy and pulling back on the bit. When a track handler rode in front of them, Runner finally slowed down.

In the winner’s circle, Claire smiled with her tear-streaked face and Jamie and Michael proudly smiled with her. Claire jumped off and let Michael take Runner so she could get lost in Jamie’s kiss and cling to him like he was the most important man in the world to her. Because he was.

In Kentucky, Nick logged into the track at Belmont Park and snorted with disgust. He felt a small flair of pride and happiness at Runner’s win and then logged off. He was moving his training horses out of Highland Brother’s and had little time to waste.

Michael’s enthusiasm never seemed to lessen and Jason the groom was not far behind. Claire saw Jason jumping and waving at her from Runner’s bath and she smiled at him and his happiness. She passed several jockeys as they moved through the facility, each having a curt nod for her as they passed.

Claire was too exhausted to find a restaurant for dinner, so they ordered a pizza, watched a movie, and slept like the dead.

Jamie checked in with Rupert or Angus daily, happy the construction was going so well. He had ordered new locks on all the doors in the compound and had them monitored by a local security agency. When they returned, each of the borders would get their own password and Jamie could print a report of who entered and exited at any time. If the doors were tampered with it would trip a silent alarm and the video surveillance would wake up Jamie’s phone and beep. Each improvement he made brought him that much closer to a peaceful existence.

Having Jamie to herself was like heaven to Claire. They went sightseeing during mid-day, walked for miles and talked about their early lives. It was a struggle for Jamie to hear about Claire’s life as an orphan and he stopped several times to pull her into his arms and just hold her. This time together deepened their bond and devotion to each other.

Michael had changed Runner’s training schedule and Claire was spending more time breezing and working on lead changes. When he discussed new ideas with Jamie and Claire, he always had the latest research to support his changes. He and Claire were in their element and Jamie was excited for them both.

When he held her close and ran his hands down her body, the changes were obvious and worrisome. Her hip bones and shoulders were bony protrusions where she once had soft round curves and she had constant bruising on the insides of her knees. When she kept losing weight Jamie made an appointment with a nutritionist who gave her a list of supplements to take every day, keeping her energy up and stabilizing her weight.

On race day, Claire was feeling so good, and she teased Runner about beating Sham again because he would be racing too.

To Jamie and Michael, it was a smooth transition to the Saratoga racetrack as Runner was getting very accustomed to traveling. Runner looked calm and ready to race during his workout and Claire’s rosy cheeks were a blessing to Jamie’s worried heart.

When Runner bolted onto the track, the other horses were well ahead, as usual, and he came out of the first turn like a bullet, as usual. He took the lead before the second turn and was never caught. An easy win for this horse who was gaining notoriety because he was unbeatable. The day and the race were so perfect and Claire lavished him with praise during his post-race flaunting to Sham. When she came around the turn and saw Jamie it felt like the air evacuated from her lungs. Something was terribly wrong, and she felt confused and scared until she heard the announcement.

“Midnight Runner has been disqualified from the Hopeful Stakes."