#she lost so many people along her way and made so many poor decisions out of conviction that sothis would return and save them all

[seirosu]

What Kind of Tragedy Are You? self-inflicted

you were given the choice to live , a thousand times over, and yet you never choose it . not intentionally , oh no, you didn’t know it was a grave you were digging . but with every turn , you were twisting the knife deeper . every decision doomed you more . had it been anyone else , they would have made it . but you ?? you are so perfectly you , there was no escaping it . the true tragedy of it all, is how preventable it was.

tagged by : @mischiefmodig (tyty!!)

[sclfmastery]

Quickfire hot take but, even though I totally grasp each of us having favorite regens of the doctor and the master, both individually and together, as symbols of their ever-evolving positions along their personal and relationship journey.... I will never ever understand fan (or canon...) portrayals that draw such a sharp line of favoritism from the characters themselves.

Missy said "they're all the Doctor to me" when recalling a memory to Clara, and to me that encapsulates the enduring nature of their intense bond. To me that is THE line. Regeneration is a form of death and rebirth, but certain core traits are immutable, particularly to two people who are narrative foils, who have known each other for centuries (or possibly millennia) and keep being thrown together by fate again and again and again.

Bottom line is, every Doctor is the same person, and so is every Master. Acting as though one of them only cares for select versions of the other is just so strange to me. They aren't us. To them, it's just like loving (or hating, or both) someone through the eras of their life. Their same life, broken down into stages od evolution and devolution. It's the same person.

I can point to the exact episode (a lol very polarizing episode in Series 10) where I think this "they're not the same person from face to face" trend got exponentially more pronounced, but anyone who knows me knows what that episode is. I truly believe it's a disservice to every version of every Doctor and Master involved.

And I really don't think that Spydoc, which came soon thereafter, is just the playing-out of the consequences of a MASSIVE miscommunication between soul mates. It IS that, but not JUST. I think all of the writing about Thoschei that followed the exacerbating episode was trying to force this inaccurate distortion, this illusion of separateness, which is part of what made the events in Power of the Doctor so painful to Thoschei fans. The Doctor walked away from the Master (literally and figuratively, ironically inviting his inevitable despair--and her own demise) partly out of understandable hurt and rage and caution, but also out of a cold, repulsed misunderstanding: "Missy was willing to change and you regressed, you're a different person than she was, and you have angered me to the point of indifference; I am able to turn off caring about you because you are unrecognizable from her, the version of you that I could control save."

Maybe Whittaker's response is intended by Chibnall: we're supposed to recognize that she's wrong but HAS to be in order to survive another betrayal by the Master, which is what makes it all so tragic.

But I think fan reception has taken the whole thing ( "each Doctor and each Master is an entirely discrete self-contained being") too far, and it bothers me, so much, I think, because it's a trope that enforces the idea that love is transactional and contingent (in such a way that also perhaps unwittingly targets the socially, culturally, and economically marginalized). If you're the "good, small, manageable version" of yourself, then you're easier to love, and it's worth the investment. Otherwise, "you gambled and you lost," and you deserve to die lying in the filth of your own poor decisions. I get why that's an appealing, vindicting plot device, from the POV of an audience member who has felt hurt or even abused IRL. I understand it, I've BEEN the Doctor many times. It just doesn't sit well with me. Maybe that's just me. I could be at peace with that, as a Whovian :P.

But, in-universe, it's based on a premise that's factually erroneous! Dhawan's Master IS Missy IS Delgado IS Simm IS Jacobi IS Ainley IS Roberts IS Beevers etc etc etc. Just as Whittaker's Doctor is a RESPONSE to Capaldi's, but ALSO still IS Capaldi's. And Tennant's. And Baker's (x2). And Eccleston's. And Gatwa's. And Pertwee's. Etc etc. Dhawan's Master was the Prime Minister of the UK and also made chairs that eat people and also cried remembering the names of people she killed. It's the SAME PERSON.

Lol, not quickfire at all. It's an old bone to pick, I know. I just can't stop finding the whole trope...very itchy.

(ok to reblog...dunno if anyone would, LOL, but feel free to reblog and to comment).

I'm gonna tag some ppl I know I've chatted about this with before to see if there are new insights. And feel completely free to disagree with me on any count. @natalunasans @mostincrediblechange @drummingncise @modernwizard @nickcagestrufflehog @rearranging-deck-chairs @koschei-no-more @likeacharacterinamusical

[dirtyvulture]

😎 so I thought that I was rambling on in the last post . Also OF COURSE Charles is going to annoy Wolverine R that is what most dads do ( my dad certainly does) and the funny thing is SHE IS OLDER THAN HIM , she is older than that whole school combined.

Annnnny ways back to the point at hand , as stated in the last post . SB possibly had the same rocky relationship with a parent but that parent happened to be their father instead of the mother like Wolverine R . I think that SB’s father was was horrible one and just a absolute drunker like Thomas Logan was and had that violent tendencies and temper as well. SB always tried to protect their mom and their younger sister from their father. They probably took up odd jobs( when they were too young for a actual job)and probably one or two actual jobs to support the family . They tried to keep their father away from the family ( SB send and threw the father out of the house when the mother was too scared to do it) . After awhile things did get better and they didn’t need to work as much and would enjoy things like being on a high school sports team. The coach was the father figure that they never had , However it wasn’t all good. Their high school years were rough and they were mercilessly bullied ( I have talked with a friend all about that ) along with the other poor misfits who made up the others on the team . But when they were older ( probably around 17 or 18 ) their father came back and he was drunk, he was violent ( Did EXACTLY what Thomas Logan did and broke in the middle of the night but instead of a shot gun he had hand gun) . SB was in fear for their mom’s and sister’s life ( they weren’t afraid of dying, they were scared of something happening to someone they love) , they fought like hell to get the gun away from their father and in the fight ( the gun was facing the father’s chest ) the gun went off killing the father. Now it could have gone down one of two ways. No matter what the family tea about the father is either already out there before this or gets out after this.

One it was clear cut self defense and no charges are pressed against SB .

Or two SB was brought to the court of law there was many many people who went up to bat for SB and their character, one of them being their coach. In a desperate bid to save SB the coach promised the court that SB would go enlist in the military ( SB already had a strong desire to do so but in this version it was definitely a gun to the head “ encouraged” decision) .

Either way they didn’t go to jail for what happened to their father. If it was the got off the charges then this was the final push to enlist, and then had their fight with their sister Sara ( remember the siblings had a fight because SB’s sister was worried about them and didn’t want them to go . That is why they lost touch for a little while before reconnecting ) but if it was that court room version with the gun to the head “ encouragement” then the siblings had the fight a little bit before the situation with their father happened when they expressed a desire to enlist. Their mom and sister never blamed SB or held any negative feelings towards SB for what happened with their father.

I'm very late to responding to this one, please forgive me :(

Wolvie!R has only the utmost respect for Charles, even if she butts heads with him a lot. And to be fair, she doesn't remember most of her years alive, when Charles probably remembers things to a fault, so he does have that on her.

Sergeant Beef had to grow up faster than most kids because of their responsibilities, and I think that's why they are so chill and at ease as an adult because nothing can compare to what they had growing up.

I remember watching a video of a celebrity actor telling a story of how he grew up with an abusive father and eventually became strong enough to fight back, but when he did, he felt nothing but guilt and anger and shame, even if he was only doing so to protect his mother. I think SB would probably feel the same way.

Seeing as SB's father was probably a well-known actual menace to society, I bet no one saw the point in pressing charges against SB, especially once the truth comes out. But all of this stress causes SB to withdraw from the rest of the family for a bit, and believing them to finally be safe from harm, decides to do something for themselves and enlist.

Thanks for waiting for this one!

[margridarnauds]

fanfic writer director's cut: ⭐

(From "Metempsychosis")

(Fanfic Writers: Director's Cut ask game)

It is a long process. It is a slow process. It is not built in a single day, like many of Wolfie's songs, made on the spot for the entertainment of his friends at a party, but built up, day after day, minute by minute. There are times that she is not sure if it is worth doing -- raising the dead is a dangerous business, because one never knows what might be raised along with it. But note by note, she has started to build another kingdom for herself, one with painted walls and ivory columns, where she is safe, where she is alive. She might not be a butterfly, but she knows something about reincarnation. She lives it every day. It is a long process, and never longer than in moments like these, in the stillness, when the world is open again and she is alone with her thoughts and there is no one to guide her, when she is mistress of her own body and mind. The distance between her fingers and the keys might as well be the distance between the mind and the soul. But there are two choices: To die or to be reborn, and she has to make the choice, each day, just like the sun has to make the effort to rise. She has to will herself to continue on, because what is the alternative? To stagnate, to suffocate in a house that has lost all of its air?

I've talked before about how deeply personal this one was and how it was coming at a particularly rough time, when I was coming out of the end...or at least started to begin an upward slope out of, a very deep depressive episode that lasted throughout the first and second years of my program. I often talk about how much of myself I've put into, say, Margrid or Lazare, but in reality, when I think about it, I think that it's probably Nannerl.

The story of Nannerl Mozart is often written as a tragedy. Poor Nannerl. Possibly the more musically gifted Mozart. Her burgeoning career sacrificed upon the altar of the patriarchy. Forced to be a wife and mother.

The irony, of course, is that while this line of thinking isn't inherently INACCURATE, in its attempts to bring light to Nannerl's brilliance, it actually erases her life outside of her childhood. Nannerl is born, she's a genius, and she dies decades before her time, reduced to an eternal child without any personality. Her son is taken by her father, the cycle repeats again. Poor, poor lost Nannerl.

What was more interesting to me was when I found out that Nannerl still kept up with music as her life developed, into her widowhood and her children being grown. And I really wanted to work with that feeling of picking up a hobby after ages, how things that seemed effortless before are so DIFFICULT, the frustration and the mourning of that feeling, the way that, when you do that, it can be very emotionally difficult as all sorts of memories and What-Could-Have-Beens inevitably resurface, all the people who you might have lost in-between when you stopped and when you started it again.

We praise Mozart a lot for how effortless his genius was, all those stories about him making up music on the spot, either for parties or because he suddenly needed something before opening night. We LOVE the story of the boy genius, chosen by God, so brilliant that he was doomed to burn out before he became an old man, and it's understandable why, but what about when the artistic process...isn't easy? Nannerl has freedom, she can do anything she wants, but she has all these mental blocks. She can't be the wünderkind anymore. And freedom's terrifying. Even when it's just the kind of freedom that comes when it's 2 AM and there's no one around to tell you how to spend your time. Because it's all on you, it's all your choice, it's all your decision, and you have to make the conscious effort to push yourself even when your body and mind are telling you that it's hard, because if you don't do it, you'll always feel that hole in yourself.

How would it have felt for Nannerl to have had that incredibly close sibling relationship with Wolfgang as children, only for them to grow distant? Would she have thought of him every time she started to play, at least on some level? Her father? Her mother? Her husband? The children she cared for that never saw adulthood? I had to imagine it would have been an incredibly heavy thing.

I put in a lot of butterfly imagery in it, both because Nannerl's iconic blue dress in the French production has butterfly designs sewn into it and it's something that's really uniquely HERS and because butterlies are traditionally associated with reincarnation in various cultures, so it really ties the themes I was going for into Nannerl's character.

So, yes, this is still probably one of my Top 5 fics I've ever written, honestly, very likely in my Top 2, and I think this passage is really vital for tying everything together. I believe that this was one of the sequences I'd actually written AFTER I was in the airport, when I was typing my initial, frantic draft out and tying everything together, as all these ideas started to really crystalize in my mind into something solid, and it was really formed by my own thoughts on the writing process and picking it up again. A part of me will always wonder whether it would have done slightly better had I published it when there was a larger MOR fandom presence on here, but I really don't think I could have done justice to themes back in 2018, either. I think that I really could have only written it from where I am now and having a bit more life experience under my belt.

[carewyncromwell]

“Is it rude to say I’d volunteer  For a day of fun just once a year? I’d fly the coop, if only I could... But I've got a really bad case of being good! I’d go find trouble if there was some to get in: Ask a friend to play if I had one to let in... Nana’s rocker sawing through the floor -- Every day just like the one before --  We lock ourselves behind that door... Is it wrong to wish for something more?

~“Good Girl Winnie Foster” from Tuck Everlasting (musical)

x~x~x~x

Carewyn’s gingham dress based on this design // original photo used for the background, edited with Lunapic! 💚

x~x~x~x

If asked about her childhood, Carewyn Cromwell would always say that even if her family was poor and she had to wear a lot of second-hand dresses when she was growing up, she, her mother Lane, and her brother Jacob still were nonetheless able to manage all right. What Carewyn often did not talk about was at just how young of an age she was forced to start looking after herself -- something that many people would look at with quite a bit more dismay than Carewyn herself did, looking back at her own circumstances. 

Now to be clear, Lane Cromwell was a very loving and caring mother -- but with the abandonment of her husband Evan and the abrupt lack of financial income that came with it, Lane had to take on the role of both breadwinner and caregiver simultaneously. While Carewyn was a toddler, that forced Lane to do menial laundry and seamstressing work from home, as well borrow some money from her good friend Judy Castine to help make ends meet until Carewyn could start public school. Once Carewyn did start school, however, Lane still couldn’t afford childcare -- and so, after doing a lot of research and preparation, Lane made the difficult decision to teach her nearly-five-year-old daughter how to walk home from her new primary school. Understandably worried for Carewyn’s safety walking anywhere by herself, Lane used both magical and Muggle means to ensure she would know Carewyn’s location at all times, on her way coming home from school. Lane made contact with several trustworthy adults along Carewyn’s route, like the elderly owner of the local ice cream parlor, Mrs. Sackett, and introduced Carewyn to each of them, so that they could help Carewyn get home in case of an emergency or even call Lane if they didn’t see Carewyn walk by at a specific time. Lane also taught Carewyn about the Knight Bus, which she could always call by sticking her left hand out over the street, just in case anyone tried to hurt or grab her. Judy even gifted Lane a small Magical-Child-Monitor watch from Diagon Alley in preparation of Carewyn’s first year at school, which could always tell Lane whether Carewyn was at “school” or “home,” whether she was “traveling,” or even whether she was “lost” or “in distress.” (The last feature Judy customized to make the watch chirp loudly, just in case Lane didn’t notice it immediately. Lane kind of had wished she hadn’t, given how loud it was, but appreciated the sentiment.)

Most children about to turn five would’ve been petrified at the thought of walking anywhere by themselves. Carewyn, fortunately, had always been a rather brave and independent child -- and considering that she knew her mother needed to keep her job in order to provide for all of them, the little girl took the responsibility onto her tiny shoulders like a champ, walking home with her head held high every day with no sense of fear or resentment. She and Jacob were all their Mum had now, after all, and with Jacob away at school, Carewyn knew she had to do her best to help take care of Lane, just like Lane did her and Jacob. Jacob always made her promise to take care of their mother and flat before leaving for Hogwarts every year...and Carewyn would never break a promise to her brother. 

So every day, from the age of 4 all the way to 11, Carewyn Cromwell walked home from school every single day by herself, straight home to her mother’s and her flat, where she’d lock the door and stay safe inside until her mum came home. And to Lane’s relief, in that entire time, the single mother never heard her Magical-Child-Monitor watch chirp once -- for truly, Carewyn had always been a rather risk-adverse child. Her brother Jacob used to break into the kitchen cabinets and try to drink bleach as a baby, but Carewyn? Lane herself would often compare her daughter to a “little angel,” never starting trouble or getting into anything she shouldn’t. And because Carewyn knew Lane was working so hard trying to do well for her and Jacob, the last thing Carewyn wanted to do was make things more difficult for her mother -- so she stoically followed the same routine every day without complaint, going to school just for her classes and then heading straight home, all the while trying hard to not to let any accidental magic slip out that could make anyone side-eye Carewyn or her family any more than they already did. 

This didn’t mean that Carewyn didn’t ever quietly lament the arrangement, of course. What child wouldn’t? It was hard having to see other kids getting picked up by their parents in their cars when it was wet or snowing outside. It was hard to have to walk straight home when there was an exciting football match going on in the field near the local secondary school. It was hard to sit cooped-up inside when Carewyn could hear all the neighborhood kids riding their bikes on a sunny Friday afternoon. 

But hey, Carewyn told herself gloomily -- she didn’t even have a bike to ride on next to them anyway. And really, she thought more stubbornly, they’d probably just think she was a freak like everyone else did, which meant they’d only say nasty things that would make her upset and make her cast magic by accident anyway. And then she’d scare everyone, and the Ministry would have to come in and fix things...and her mother would worry. Carewyn couldn’t worry Lane...

And so Carewyn stayed inside dutifully, day after lonely day, soldiering through with no complaint. Because really, all of that silence was worth it, the moment Jacob would come home for a holiday break. As soon as he was home, Carewyn wouldn’t be alone, and with someone else around at home, it was safer to go outside without her mother. She and Jacob could walk to the park or the library -- to Mrs. Sackett’s ice cream parlor, or maybe even take a trip to the beach. Even being inside some of the time wasn’t so hard, when Carewyn didn’t always have to be by herself. And then once Lane was home too, they could all eat dinner together, the way Carewyn wished they could every night -- laughing and talking and sharing and bonding the way they all loved doing. And once Carewyn started at Hogwarts herself...well, then she’d be able to go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted -- be the great witch she wanted to be, instead of the “freak” ginger that the Muggles in her neighborhood would never understand. She’d be able to play out every single wild daydream Jacob and Lane had sparked to life inside of her through all their stories about the magical school -- cast spells, brew potions, visit all the shops of Hogsmeade village...play Quidditch, sing for the Frog Choir...maybe even tame a real-life dragon! 

Carewyn held fast to this thought and never let go of it. Once she could go to Hogwarts and chase her dreams, Jacob and her mother rooting for her all the while...all those silent, cooped-up, lonely days of the past would be worth it. 

[xiv-wolfram]

The Horrors of War - Comic Script

Stormblood - lvl 65

Raubahn weighs the consequences of his decisions when a friend is badly wounded.

Wolfram Saga Comics (Chronological)

This is the script for a future comic. Posting for those who don’t want to wait to get the story. Numbers indicate frame number. A/B mean a frame is split.

A landscape shot of Rhalgr's Reach, focused on the chirugen’s area pivoted towards the waterfall. Narrator - "A group of Resistance fighters and Flames was attacked by the Garleans. After checking on the survivors General Raubahn calls his friend and former partner Wolfram as the Warrior of Light is preparing for the Nadam.”

Rau pacing near the waterfall, worried - "-so the squadron didn't stand a chance. We lost a dozen. It's a miracle he survived. Perhaps his size was an advantage… Anyroad he's unconscious and they say he may not wake."

Wolf in a tent in the Steppes, worried - "I'm so sorry about your friend Rau. I certainly hope he'll recover …Yet please do not blame yourself. We all signed up for this revolution." Thought - ‘I’d wager he’s beating himself up about it…’

Rau annoyed, growls - "You don't know what it's like. You can speak to me of revolution as this grand idea. Hells, I even bought into it - but you weren't a soldier. You don't understand what it's like. You don't understand war. I do - so all of this is on me. I knew better and went along with it anyroad because I wanted to see our homeland free. All of their blood is on my hands. "

Wolf worried - "You're right Rau, I’m sorry. I'm not a soldier. I don't have the experience you do and I'm sorry if I ever made light of what’s at stake. You know that sometimes I feel uncomfortable when things are serious and I may not give the situation the gravitas it deserves. I'm so sorry for the way I am. I wish I were different. I really do."

Wolf smiles sadly - "However, I do know what it's like to have people you care about suffer for a cause. It's horrible. And it's even worse when it's *your* cause. In your name even. Do you know what helps me through it? Putting the blame where it truly belongs. Something you taught me many years ago... Well in this case the blame belongs with the Garleans and no one else."

Rau worried. Thought - ‘That was much more harsh than I’d intended…’. Say - "Wolf he's so young. And his kind lives much longer than us. He could have had a comfortable life in Ul'dah…instead, he wanted to come to fight with his friends …I believe a part of him wanted to support me. How is that not my fault?"

Wolf surprised - "Oh! I see…" Thought - "Not simply a friend… perhaps a lover? No wonder he's so broken up about it. Large and lives longer than Hyur…Bran?! Godsdamnit I always liked him. Poor lad. In that case, I know just how he feels."

Wolf smiles sadly - "I had a similar loss not long ago…she sacrificed herself for our mission. Far too young for her fate. She was there to help me as well. It’s an awful thing to experience and I'm so sorry this happened." Thought - ‘If I’d known Ysayle’s age I’d never have… And she deserved so much better. Thrice damn that crystal.’

Rau voice over linkpearl - "What did you do?" Wolf worried, dark thought - "You won't actually tell him. You know how he'll react. Just as he did last time. He doesn't want to know this side of you."

Wolf worried, sighs. Thought - 'No, the days of hiding anything from him are behind me.' Says - "I…well first I had one of my episodes. I cried but managed to calm myself and then…"

Wolf looks determined - "I fought my way through a landscape of Allagan monstrosities. I butchered an entire ship of Garleans. Cut through them like they were nothing. It mattered not if they were laying down their arms and begging for mercy. I ended them all. Then I defeated two Ascians… took my time with Lahabrea. Figured I might as well get revenge for Thancred too. I lashed out with a rage I didn't know myself capable of. I hadn't felt anything like that…other than the night you were captured. I'm grateful Pipin stopped me back then before I acted - now that I know what I’m capable of."

Wolf embarrassed - "By the end, I'd burned through so much of my own aether that I passed out and was unconscious for a week. To put it simply…I could have died because I didn't know where to put all of that hurt and blame so - I put it on myself…for my own naivete. I let it consume me. It was the first and last time. I refuse to give into my guilt like that ever again."

A) Rau surprised - "Oh…"  B) Wolf worried - "Is…that all?" Dark Thought - "Told you. He's horrified at what you allowed yourself to become, he-'

A) Rau worried. Thought - ‘That couldn’t have been easy for him to admit to…’ B) Rau ponders - "Good." 

A) Wolf shocked - "Good?! Rau, that's the opposite of what I'm trying to say!" B) Rau smirks - "No, not what you did to your Aether. Good that you got revenge for her. Did you feel better after?" Thought - 'Also…incredibly impressive.'

Wolf smiles uncomfortably - "Oh…I know I'm supposed to say I felt horrible and regret it, but honestly - yes. I felt a bit better. I don't feel any guilt for what I did to them." Dark Thought - 'You should though…and for keeping me locked up the whole time. I didn't get to join in the fun.'

Rau smiles sadly - "Thank you, Wolf. I'm sure that wasn't easy to tell me given my reaction in the past. Just know that I have changed as well. After Nanamo…at the banquet…I now know what it is to be consumed by anger and believe I understand you better for it."

Rau smiles warmly - "Thank you for letting me vent to you. I always appreciate our conversations. You've helped me regain my resolve. I won't let myself be consumed by guilt or let it cloud my judgment. This cause is worth more than anything. Even if it claims my own life I will see our homeland free."

Wolf concerned - "I'm glad my words helped you. And I thank you for your understanding. I'll do everything in my power to free Ala Mhigo…But Rau…"

Wolf closes eyes, blushing and smiling awkwardly - "Don't even consider sacrificing yourself. Your life is worth more than all of Ala Mhigo. All of Gyr Abania. All of Eorzea. There is no cause on this whole bloody star worth losing you for. Not a one."

Rau blushes, surprised - "Um.. Wolf I…uh…"

Ciri walks into the tent, addressing Wolf - "It's time." (Zoomed out shot.)

A) Wolf looks serious - "I have to go. I'll talk to you later." B) Rau confused, blushing (linkshell click) "The whole star?! Surely he wouldn’t say something like that to just any friend..."

Wolfram Saga Comics (Chronological)

[somnambulants]

omg i think it’s considered a little bit of a pride mont hate crime that you don’t have MORE nat fics 🥺 so hehehe how about i request some pouty jealous!nat?

Notes: omg thank u! happy pride 💛 this went super off topic BUT i hope you still like it! jealous!nat is my new favorite thing. 

Summary: Natasha may have a little bit of jealous streak. You discover you don’t mind. Word count: 3.8K

You are not a jealous person.

That’s not to say that you aren’t prone to bouts of insecurity, you definitely are, and especially at the beginning of your relationship with Natasha. For the first few months after you’d begun dating, you’d been on edge the entire time; in a constant state of wondering, agonising, for the day she’d finally realise you weren’t good enough for her and up and leave.

Through all of that, you’d never given a lot of thought to whether your girlfriend is the jealous type. Mostly because Natasha is the most beautiful person you’d ever seen but also because it’s not like she would ever have a reason to be jealous; the minute you’d met, you had never so much as wanted to look at another person.

The thought never crossed your mind. It was laughable to you.

As unbelievable of an idea as it is, you’ve been together for just a few months when it slowly begins to dawn on you that you may not be the jealous type, but Natasha most definitely is.

--

In all – although admittedly, there weren’t a lot – of her relationships, Natasha has never cared enough to worry about being jealous over a significant other. 

This is why the visceral reaction she has to watching people flirt with you comes as such a surprise to her.

The first time it happens, you’d only just begun dating and were at one of the many events the avengers were required to attend. Still wanting to stay as low-key as possible, you’d both privately agreed to not spend the night attached to one another. 

Something Natasha is now beginning to regret. Immensely.

Currently, you’re across the room, talking to a woman Natasha vaguely recognises as a reporter and all she can focus on is the way the woman is looking at you. 

It makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up because Natasha knows that look; has given you that look many times over the course of your relationship – a hungry, I want you right now, kind of look.

“Nat!”

Steve suddenly materialises beside her and the fact that she didn’t see him coming is evidence of how distracted she is. It makes her scowl even harder. Taking in her expression, he all of a sudden looks like he’s trying not to laugh as he follows her gaze to where you were standing. “You feeling okay? You’re looking a little…green.”

She resists the urge to kick him in the stomach. “Bite me, Rogers.”

He snickers and starts to say something else, but whatever it is, it’s lost on her as the sound of your voice across the room acts as a honing beacon and regains her attention immediately.

She watches, grip tightening around her drink, as you throw your head back, laughing at some joke the woman must’ve made. Seeing this as a green light, the woman leans in, brushing a lone piece of hair over your shoulder. 

It doesn’t matter that Natasha can see how your spine immediately straightens up, or how you step back to widen the gap between you and your admirer.It doesn’t matter that you very clearly don’t return the attention being given to you. 

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters because all Natasha can see and feel is red. If she had the ability to burn people with her eyes, that woman would have been incinerated on the spot. There wouldn’t even be tiny little dust particles left behind.

In the midst of her rage, she doesn’t even register the glass in her hand shattering until she’s covered in glass and red wine and there’s blood running down her wrist.

The sound of the glass breaking makes a good portion of the room’s occupants turn around to stare, you included. Instantly, you’re at her side, cradling her hand between your own.

“What happened?”

In its current state, Natasha’s brain seems to be lacking its usual quick thinking, and she just stares at you dumbly for a second until she spots the reporter you’d been talking to skulking in the background, watching with a petulant look on her face, evidently irritated by the interruption and the white-hot rage comes flooding back even more ferocious than before.

God, that insipid woman is lucky this event was specified no weapons allowed because if Natasha had a gun right now, she --

“--Natasha?”

You’re looking at her with worry in your eyes and as much as she’d love to go ‘accidentally’ push that woman off the edge of this very tall building’s balcony to a very certain death, she feels her insides soften into mush as they often do when you’re around.

“I’m fine,” she says. “Accident.”

It’s a flimsy excuse and one that wouldn’t fly on a normal day, especially not with you. She watches you purse your lips, giving her a doubtful look but you seem to make the decision to let it go as you lead her out of the room with the intent to find something to clean her up with.

--

You may not be a trained spy or even the most perceptive person on your best day, but you can still sense it when something is up – especially with Natasha. After the party, you’d had an inkling that maybe your girlfriend wasn’t telling you the whole truth and that something else was actually going on but after seeing the look in her eye, you hadn’t pushed her.

In spite of her unwillingness to share, a few weeks later your inkling is confirmed.

“I’ll order this time,” you yell over the loud music at the bar you were currently at. It was not your scene at all – or Natasha’s but Carol had recommended it on her last trip back to this earth and after a long, long week, you’d both agreed you deserved a night out, away from avengers’ duties and this is where you’d ended up.

Natasha gives you a nod and you stand, only having to wait at the bar for a few seconds before the bartender makes a b-line for you, ignoring the grumbles from the patrons that had been clearly waiting a lot longer than you.

“What can I get you?”

You recite Natasha’s drink, then your own and the bartender makes them with record speed. When you try to hand her the bill to pay, she waves her hand dismissively and gives you a grin. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t –“

The bartender, who you now realise is quite pretty, runs a finger along the back of your hand and gives you a wink that is definitely more flirty than friendly. “Believe me, it’s my pleasure.”

You sigh in defeat, giving her a smile in thanks and turn back around, making your way back to your table in the corner of the room where your girlfriend is still sitting but now with a face like thunder. 

To anyone else, Natasha would probably look neutral but to you – well, you can see the irritated look in her eye and the slight crease between her brows and you know she’s pissed.

In the future, you’d look back and want to slap yourself for not seeing it straight away but in the present it just makes you a little worried.

“Everything okay?” you ask, setting the drinks down on the table. You think about all the possibilities of what could’ve happened in the short time you’d been gone and try not to panic. “Did something –"

“No,” Natasha says and then seems to realise the sharpness in her voice because her face softens in apology. She leans over to give you a quick kiss and it makes you relax slightly. “Everything’s fine.”

Comprehension starts to trickle in when she scoots over so she can wrap an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer, and when you follow her line of sight, you realise she’s glaring over your head at the bartender, who pales immediately and doesn’t so much as look in your direction again.

Oh, you feel your eyes widen as it finally hits you: oH.

You look down into your drink and try to hide your disbelieving smile as you finally understand: she’s jealous. 

If it were anyone else, you think you probably wouldn’t feel like this – would likely be outright irritated and a little offended at the behaviour -- but with Natasha you can’t help but find it kind of … cute.

A little giddily, you lean over to press a kiss to her jaw and feel her relax a little against you. “Wanna go after this one?”

Natasha’s face doesn’t change but you see a little shift in her eyes as she nods and pulls you in for another kiss, this one a little more heated – for your benefit or the bartenders, you don’t know, and don’t particularly mind either way as you let yourself get lost in it.

--

After that night, it becomes so apparent to you and you don’t know how you’d missed it all this time. It happens all the time. All. The. Time.

On the street, if someone so much as glances your way, she’s already staring back at them with an expression that would be terrifying even to you if she directed it your way.

At work one day one of the new recruits, a kid, really, comes up to you and asks you, voice trembling if you’d let him take you out someday and the next day Natasha knocks him on his ass so hard and so many times that you’re kind of surprised – and a little impressed—that the poor kid doesn’t quit right on the spot.

Even in your apartment building, one of your maybe-slightly too friendly neighbours gets similar treatment in the elevator one night when you and Natasha are returning to the building at the same time as her. 

Just as you enter the elevator, you hear the voice of your neighbour calling out.

“Hold the door!”

Panting, your neighbour enters the small space. “Thank you so much, I have had the worst, oh –” her eyes land on Natasha beside you and she looks at her with something you can’t quite place in her eyes. “Who’s your …friend?”

“Oh!” you exclaim and you know you must sound surprised. Was it not obvious from how Natasha was always here that you were dating? “This is Natasha. My girlfriend. Nat, this is Charlotte, my neighbour.”

You can see Natasha in the reflection of the elevator walls, so you see the smug self-satisfied look she gives your neighbour as she wraps an arm around you possessively.

So, yes while you notice it all now, you still don’t say anything because a small – and by small, you mean large, massive actually – part of you kind of likes it; likes the fact that the Natasha Romanoff, the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen in your life is somehow yours and even more unbelievably, somehow she thinks you’re worth getting worked up like that over.

--

At this point, you’ve been dating for over a year and somehow it must’ve slipped the memo to let all of the avengers know because somehow every time you’re at the office, it seems like a new person is finding out about your relationship. 

It’s really hard to keep up with everyone and their individual missions, which is how you find yourself in your current predicament.

“--ah, well-well,” a familiar voice calls out and you look up from the report you’d been studying. “If it isn’t the most attractive and coincidentally my favourite honorary avenger.”

In the doorway of your office, Sam is grinning at you in that playful, flirty but also joking kind of way that’s distinctly Sam Wilson. You grin back and stand to let him pull you into a hug.

“Did you just get back?” you ask, vaguely remembering him telling you he was going on a mission at least six months ago. You think it was in Istanbul, but you can’t quite remember the specifics. 

Sam pulls back and goes to open his mouth but doesn’t get the chance to speak as Natasha appears in the doorway.

“Samuel,” she drawls his name, eyeing his arm around you. She visibly brightens up when she looks at you, though. “Y/N”

You can’t see yourself, but you know your face must light up as your eyes land on her by the sudden realisation that crosses Sam’s face. The casual kiss she drops on your cheek comes as confirmation.

His mouth drops open as he looks between you both. “Oh damn, you two?” he asks, smiling genuinely. “Damn!”

To the naked eye, Natasha doesn’t seem amused by his revelation, but you know her well enough by now to be able to spot the glimmer of humour in her eyes. 

Sam, however, doesn’t seem to be adept at reading her as you are and so when she advances a little closer, his eyes widen and he immediately backs away.

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know!” he exclaims, hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry!”

The expression on Natasha’s face turns sinister in nature. You watch and try not to laugh at her theatrics, attempting to adopt a sympathetic expression when he desperately looks to you for help.

“Well,” Natasha says, faux-friendly. As she passes by him, she gives him what looks like a bone-shatteringly hard arm squeeze – if the pained expression on Sam’s face is any indication -- and comes to stand beside your desk. “Now you know, buddy.”

“That I do,” he says, backing up until he reaches the door. “Anyways, I gotta, uh –"

Not even finishing his sentence, he high-tails it out of the room so fast you barely see him leave. You turn to Natasha with a frown. She looks back at you innocently, but you catch the way her lip twitches a little bit before she breaks into a full blown smirk.

“You’re going to give someone have a heart attack one day, you know,” you say, half-serious. “I’m kind of surprised you haven’t already.”

Unbothered, Natasha shrugs and reaches out to tug you closer to her in order to kiss you, a little more intensely than you would normally allow at work. You melt into it with a sigh, smiling a little. 

Eventually, you have to pull away when you start to struggle to breathe and your head starts spinning. Natasha makes an unhappy sound, trying to follow, but you stand firm.

“Nope, you’ve got to go before I’m the one that has the heart attack.”

With a pout, she gives you one more kiss before she gives into your request.

--

You’ve never seen Natasha drunk before – hadn’t even thought she could get drunk but tonight she’s definitely wasted -- all thanks to Thor and whatever is in the mead he’d bought with him.

One thing you quickly realise about drunk Natasha is drunk Natasha also means confrontational Natasha.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about –”

Her and Tony are almost nose to nose at this point, about ten minutes into what was now a heated conversation, and you’re kind of wondering if either of them even knows what they’re arguing about. You don’t think so and by the looks on the other avengers faces, they seem to have as much of an idea as you do.

As Natasha and Tony continue to argue, you look to your left and the young waiter who’d been hovering by your table a little too attentively all night is immediately by your side. 

So Natasha can’t see you, you quickly mouth the word water to him and thankfully he seems to understand because he gives you a quick nod and then disappears, reappearing just as swiftly with a glass in his hand.

“Here, Miss –"

“No!” Ending her argument with Tony as abruptly as it began, Natasha jabs a finger at the waiter, who looks to you for help while she glares up at him balefully. 

The poor guy looks terrified, so you quickly intervene, touching Natasha’s knee to bring her attention back to you. It does the trick, but she seems to underestimate how close in proximity you already are and she ends up half in your lap to the delight of the other avengers in attendance, who all let out various different whistles.

“Mine,” she says childishly into the crook of your arm. You only just manage to pick it up so you know you must be the only person who heard her. With your help, she sits up a little and makes eye contact with you as she repeats herself, more seriously, as if you hadn’t understood the first time: “mine.”

“I – oh --okay,” you say, grabbing her hand as it starts to creep a little too low to be polite in your current company. “How about we get you home?”

After hurriedly saying your goodbyes, twenty minutes later you park in your driveway and begin the not-so-small feat of getting her inside.

“Damn,” you grunt a little under her weight as you help her up the stairs to your apartment. “What do they put into that Asgardian mead?”

You make a mental note to ask Thor about it and then promptly forget as you reach your front door and fumble around, looking for your keys. 

Even in her inebriated state, Natasha somehow pulls herself together enough to reach into your bag and pull them put for you so you can unlock the door.

Which she promptly falls through. You just manage to catch her before she hits the floor, and she leans against you, burying her face into your neck.

“Come on,” you order gently, softening as she groans into your skin. “Bed.”

“No.”

As if to emphasise the word, Natasha shakes her head, but to your surprise, she starts to make her way to your bedroom anyway. She’s still a little unsteady on her feet but nothing like you’d be if you’d drank as much as she had. If it were you, you would definitely have been comatose about seven shots and multiple hours ago.

“Alright, you get into bed,” you say. “And I’ll get you some water, okay?”

Natasha scowls. “No,” she says. You bite your lip to hold in your laugh at the petulance you hear in her voice, shadowing her to the bed, where she immediately sits down and attempts multiple times to take off her heels with little success.

“No?”

Finally having enough of watching her struggle, you lean down and undo the straps of her heels, gently pulling them off her feet. You watch as she flops back on the bed and then covers her face dramatically with a groan. “You don’t get it,” she says unsteadily.

“I don’t get what?”

“You’re mine,” she repeats her earlier words, uncovering her eyes to look at you.

You raise an eyebrow. “Am I now?”

You thought you’d managed to cover your amusement pretty well until you see the glare she shoots you that says she can see it loud and clear. After a beat of silence it becomes clear she’s not going to say anything else.

With difficulty, you slowly manage to get her into a sitting position and help her out of her dress, pulling the covers up around her and retrieving a glass of water that you place on her nightstand so she can drink it in the morning.

You then change yourself and go the bathroom to remove what makeup you’d had on. To your surprise, she’s still awake when you emerge, half-propped up against the headboard and looking at you with bleary, unfocused eyes. It makes your heart turn to mush immediately and you get into bed beside her as quickly as your feet allow.

She immediately curls up into you and you wrap an arm around her, pulling her as close to you as humanly possible. 

“I am yours, just so you know.”

There’s a second of silence where you start to think that maybe she’s fallen asleep, until she shifts against you to meet your gaze, looking a little more alert and coherent but still out of it.

“Good,” she says softly.

The next morning, you wake before Natasha and slip out of bed to make her coffee and to find some pain killers, having a gut feeling she’ll probably need them. Your feeling turns out to be right. When you re-enter the bedroom, she’s laying face-down but clearly awake by the muffled groaning you can hear coming from her.

“Whys’it so bright,” she mumbles into the mattress as you approach the bed, turning her head ever so slightly so she can meet your eyes. You grin down at her.

“Ah, it awakens.”

She scowls up at you and you laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek as you slide back into bed, careful not to jostle her too much. She leans her head against your leg, slowly sipping the glass of water you’d left for her last night before reaching for the coffee on the nightstand.

You fall into a comfortable silence; you running your hand through her hair as she drinks her coffee, humming contentedly.

“How are you feeling –"

“I don’t like it when people look at you,” she interrupts suddenly, staring down into her coffee mug and sounding uncharacteristically nervous. You freeze but since she’s not looking at you, she doesn’t seem to notice. “But it’s not because of anything you do. I just don’t … like it.”

“Okay?” you hedge cautiously, not really understanding.

“I’m sorry if it bothers you,” she says. “Me. Being like that. I didn’t know I was even the type to –"

“It doesn’t bother me.”

At your quick interjection, she looks at you for the first time and whatever she sees on your face makes her smile faintly. “It doesn’t?”

You bite your lip. “Not at all.”

She mirrors you, now smirking. “Oh.”

After this, it starts to become a game: one you feel like you win every time.

[godsimge]

– major moral orel spoilers!!

a fun, and quite sad fact–one of moral orel’s more underrated lost episodes was going to be called ‘narcissism’, primarily centred around the relationship between reverend putty and florence papermouth. i’m sobbing here because it had so much good material in it, for multiple characters. i.e. a deeper look, albeit fleeting, into orel’s understanding of clay and arthurs’ tense situation, and a ton of orel, putty, and stephanie wholesomeness!! this was meant to take place about mid-way through season 3

queue putty rambling to himself in front of the entire congregation

this is genuinely a heart-wrenching moment in the script, and i’m so disappointed it wasn’t addressed in the show. this is orel genuinely acknowledging clay and arthurs’ troubled relationship, briefly, but it really is a symbol of how far orel has come in terms of maturity. it truly makes you wonder whether clay actually brought up the story of his mother to orel, perhaps simply out of spite, or as a way to turn orel away from arthur’s philosophies and get back at him for his neglect, even passingly whilst drunk

and it really shows that despite the shooting incident, orel still looks out for clay and cares for him, as troubled (an understatement) as their relationship is, orel still wants the best for him. even through all the pain that clay has put him through. he really is a great kid

and i think he knows that if clay continues to devolve into a more pitiful, pathetic man, suffocating on his own misery, it not only endangers clay, but the people around him. especially his two younger brothers

nurse bendy, the light of my life. she genuinely strives to change her perspective on men because she loves joe, and only wants the best for her son. despite how terribly mistreated she has been by so many men

these experiences have definitely warped her perspective on men in general, and as you can see in the episode ‘dumb’, she even ties her ‘hubby’ down to his chair, after the events of s3e4. that was her final breaking point, a sudden snap out of the safety of fantasy, from the lovely little familiar bubble she had created. with that, it all fell apart. and genuinely who can blame her? from a young age, she was objectified. these are not poor life decisions, these are others inflicting sick, depraved suffering on her

and doesn’t this link to modern times as well. she is objectified literally on a daily basis, and the only men to ever have called her smart ended up taking advantage of her anyways. stephanie and nurse bendy being lovers is literally the little closure i have

my favourite family. these three have my entire heart. it’s really odd that orel knows that term, but he goes on to say he learnt it from observing his father, or something along the lines of that. i’m not too surprised about that, eyes clay and danielle

MY HEART!! THEY ARE SO LOVELY!! just take a moment to picture all the times orel and stephanie would’ve eagerly supported their dad, holy shit

cue ‘hell and you’ by amigo the devil

i love florence so much, and honestly? i rooted for her and rod. this episode was set up with such a sweet, fulfilling ending, and i’m so disappointed it never made the cut. the dialogue in this episode was so good, and i recommend for everyone to check it out themselves some time. i love how it explored not only putty by himself, but the struggles of several other characters. it deserves so much more recognition!! i’m so sorry if i’m spamming the moral orel tl, but i have so much brain-rot surrounding this silly little puppet show and i cannot stop thinking about this specific episode

[heyiwrotesomethings]

A Compulsive Gambler?!

Yumeko Jabami x She/Her Reader

A/N: Could you imagine Yumeko dating someone and they have no idea she’s, ya know, a gambling freak? I bet she would have a hard time pulling back like, she’d still gamble with her SO but in a sneaky, more subdued way. Something like, ‘if you can guess what number I’m thinking of you can pick what we eat for dinner’, or something like that. Seems innocent enough but she just can’t help herself into turning some interactions into gambles. Anyway, hope y’all enjoy! Word Count: 5,170

For perhaps the first time since Mary met Yumeko, the girl was a nervous wreck. The usually carefree gambling addict was pacing around the near empty classroom while she twisted the ring on her thumb around and around again with no sign of stopping. Finally, Mary had had enough. If Suzui wasn’t going to be useful and ask what the hell was going on, she would do it herself.

“What the hell is your problem? Are you going through withdrawals or something?” Mary asked with an annoyed huff.

“Oh Mary-san!” Yumeko practically moaned, the back of her hand raised to her forehead with over dramatic flair, “I don’t know what to do!”

“About what?” Mary asked, accompanied with an annoyed eye roll.

“My girlfriend is coming to visit tomorrow and she’s going to be staying with me over the weekend!” Yumeko blushed cupping her hands over her face at the mere thought of it all. It just made Mary more annoyed.

“And? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“You have a girlfriend?” Ryota blinked, the poor boy seemed to always be falling behind.

“Yes, we’ve been together since our last year of middle school. We went to the same high school too until I transferred,” Yumeko gushed while she hugged herself, twisting and swaying slightly on her feet, “I love her so much! It’s been hard to be away from her all this time!”

Ryota scratched his cheek. “Then... why do you seem so uneasy?”

“Well that’s easy!” Yumeko cheered, a dazzling smile over her lips. A moment passed by and Yumeko appeared to pale considerably and a nervous sweat dotted her face, her body trembled and yet, the smile stayed in place. Mary and Ryota side eyed each other before staring back at Yumeko, waiting.

“She doesn’t know about my severe gambling addiction!” Yumeko finally disclosed.

“What?!” Mary and Ryota spoke in unison.

“Yes, it’s hard to believe isn’t it?” Yumeko sighed. “I’ve kept it hidden from her all this time because I feared what she would think of me if she found out. That, and I wouldn’t want her to get hurt from tagging along. I love that girl dearly and I can’t risk losing her.���

“How are you going to keep your secret, Yumeko?” Ryota’s worry for his friend was plain on his face.

“That’s where I’m hoping you two will come in!” Yumeko grasped a hand of Mary’s and Ryota’s in both of hers, a pleading pout on her face. “Help me keep her occupied and away from any mention of gambling!”

“Are you an idiot?” Mary scoffed, not waiting for an answer. “This school is all about gambling! Not to mention we’re in the midst of this insane election. You’d be better off just having her wait off of school grounds rather than parading her around for all your enemies to see.”

“Please Mary-san, it’s only for one day!” Yumeko cooed. She tried to wrap the blonde up in her arms, but Mary stood and held her away at arm’s length.

“I’m not gonna go out of my way for this fool’s errand. I’ve got to go meet with Ririka now. Figure it out yourself, but if you want my advice you should just come clean.” Mary said, giving Yumeko one last shove as she made her way out of the classroom.

“Oh yes, do you think Ririka-san would help? Maybe we could get Itsuki in on it as well!”

“You’re on your own!” Mary called from the hallway, making Yumeko whine.

“I’ll help you Yumeko.” Ryota predictably volunteered.

“Thank you, Ryota!” Yumeko bounced giddily, “Hopefully everything will run smoothly tomorrow if we play our cards right!”

***

“(Y/n)!” Yumeko jumped the girl as soon as she saw her approach the gates of the prestigious academy and showered her face with dozens of little kisses that made her girlfriend laugh and try to wiggle away from the continuous onslaught.

“Yumeko! I take it you missed me too then?” (Y/n) smiled, catching Yumeko’s face in her hands so she could land a few kisses of her own.

“Of course! You know it was one of the hardest decisions of my life to transfer here. I need to make up for lost time!” Yumeko grinned in return. She was about to steal another kiss when someone cleared their throat behind her.

“Oh, right!” Yumeko recalled, pulling (Y/n) to her side until they were near flush together. “Ryota, this is (L/n) (Y/n). (Y/n), this is Suzui Ryota, one of my friends!”

“Nice to meet you.” Ryota said. He was no stranger to feeling out of place, but after that intimate display he had never felt more awkward.

“Nice to meet you too, Suzui-san. I hope Yumeko hasn’t caused you too much trouble.” (Y/n) joked.

Thoughts of millions of yen in debt, gambling for nails, house pets, guns in a seedy basement, among other things, flashed almost violently in Ryota’s mind but he managed to keep a somewhat pleasant expression as he answered.

“Not at all! Yumeko’s a model student,” he lied.

“Oh god, I thought you’d be in the classroom by now. So much for a quiet morning.”

“Mary-san! Good morning!” Yumeko pivoted, still holding (Y/n) close, “Come meet my (Y/n)!”

“Hi. Saotome Mary. It’s a pleasure. Excuse us a second.” (Y/n) blinked and Mary was halfway through the courtyard before she noticed Yumeko being dragged along with her.

“Are you stupid?” Mary whispered harshly with no preamble once she found a secluded spot in the trees.

“Mary-san, what are we doing?” Yumeko asked, tilting her head like an inquisitive puppy would.

“How about what are you doing?” Mary hissed back. “The whole school must know you’re dating at this point!”

“Well that’s good isn’t it?”

“It’s the exact opposite of good! Do you have any idea how many people are gonna try to use her against you now? Use your head a little!”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to help me, Mary-san.” Yumeko giggled, “but you really do care about my happiness, don’t you?”

“Shut up!” Mary blushed, pushing Yumeko away before she could hug her. “I just don’t want some innocent girl to get caught up in this crazy school. Just be more discreet from now on. She already sticks out like a sore thumb without the Hyakkaou uniform.”

“I’ll do my best Mary-san!” Yumeko clapped. “It’ll be hard though since she’s just so kissable.”

“I didn’t ask.”

When they got back to the gate, they only saw Suzui looking around desperately while sweating bullets. When he finally saw Mary and Yumeko walking towards him, he ran up to them, breathing heavily.

“Ryota? Where did (Y/n) go?” Yumeko smiled.

“Iki... Ikishima’s girls took her! Tried to.. stop them but—“ Ryota panted and wheezed, stopping the retelling of his account once Yumeko rose her hand to his lips, directing him to silence.

“See? What did I tell you?” Mary groused. “And Ikishima of all people...” Mary shut her mouth tightly upon seeing the look on Yumeko’s face. The pure disgust and hatred that rolled off of her made Mary’s skin crawl.

“Ryota, Mary,” Yumeko eerily called, “it’s time for me to get my (Y/n) back from her visit to the trash heap. You’ll accompany me won’t you?”

It went without saying that Mary and Ryota followed after their friend. Whether out of fear or support, it could have gone either way. Even Mary thought it wise not to berate the usually carefree girl with ‘I told you so’s’ in this state.

They hurried to the bowels of the school and pushed through the beautification committee members. The members didn’t retaliate, one look at Yumeko’s face was enough to make them part their ranks like Moses and the sea. Yumeko approached the big metal door and knocked three times, loud metal echoes rung out over the hum of generators and fluorescent lights.

A wild laugh sounded upon the knocks. An eager cry of, ‘she’s here!’ could clearly be heard from inside as quick steps over linoleum could be heard tapping in rapid succession towards the door before it was wrenched open with a heinous squeak from its hinges that nearly matched pitch with Midari’s own delighted squeal upon being face to face with Yumeko.

“Yu-me-ko!” Midari sang, “so glad you could join us!”

Yumeko breezed past Midari without so much as a glance and went straight for (Y/n) who was tied to a chair in the middle of the room like some crime movie.

“Oh my (Y/n), are you alright?” Yumeko cooed, freeing (Y/n) from the gag and turning her face in her hands to look her over.

“I think so,” (Y/n) shivered, “just what kind of school do you go to where people are kidnapped at gunpoint?!”

The thought of Ikishima pressing that dirty gun against (Y/n)’s head made Yumeko want to curb stomp Ikishima’s head into a fine paste, but the deranged girl would have just loved that, wouldn’t she? Instead she worked on untying the ropes from (Y/n)’s middle, comforting her girlfriend along the way.

“It’s alright my love! The beautification committee is just really serious about following the dress code. They won’t bother you anymore.”

“Yumeko,” Midari moaned from behind her, “I brought her her so you would gah—!”

Mary slapped the girl hard over the back of her head and gave her a warning look. Midari shut up more out of the delight of being hit more than anything else.

“...’Gah’?” (Y/n) flicked her eyes over everyone in the room, trying to get some kind of explanation for what the hell was going on.

“‘Gah?’” Yumeko repeated right back with a smile. “Whatever does that mean, my dear?”

“I don’t know, the girl with the eye patch said it.” (Y/n) replied, finally loose from her bindings, she rubbed her hands over her arms where the scratchy rope had dug in.

“Oh sweetheart, you must be seeing things. I see no such girl here.” Yumeko said, causing a whimper to fall from Midari’s lips. “Let’s get to my class now, shall we?”

“Anywhere is better than here.” (Y/n) sighed, choosing not to question Yumeko about the girl who had taken her. She clearly didn’t like her and after being dragged here against her will, (Y/n) couldn’t say she enjoyed the crazed girl’s company either.

“That’s my girl,” Yumeko cooed, pulling (Y/n) tightly against her side. They walked past Midari as she blubbered and crawled over the floor towards Yumeko only to have the metal door slammed in her face.

“Come on, we’re already late!” Mary griped. “Some of us have scholarships to keep!”

“I just can’t wait to be sitting in a classroom with my (Y/n) again,” Yumeko sighed dreamily, “it will be just like old times!”

“Yeah.” (Y/n) smiled though she was still coming to terms with being held at gunpoint for wearing the wrong uniform. Yumeko hadn’t even seemed to be phased by it. Like it was something that was part of the school policy. We’re all rich people schools like this? Whatever, (Y/n) wasn’t going to let this one setback, no matter how momentarily terrifying, ruin her weekend with Yumeko.

Before they could make it to their classroom, the were jumped by another second year student with literal stars in her eyes as she grabbed Yumeko’s hands.

“Yumeko, I’m so glad I caught you!” She cheered.

“Oh hello Yumemi, what are you doing outside our classroom?” Yumeko asked.

“Waiting for you! It’s been so long since the Dreaming Creaming Sisters have performed and I need you to pretty please join me for a concert!” Yumemi sparkled.

“Dream—“ (Y/n) tried to muffle her inelegant snort with her hand but the action immediately drew in Yumemi’s attention, the idol’s face darkened slightly.

“Oh? What’s so funny stranger?” Yumemi asked with faux sweetness.

“I, um, sorry. It’s just uh, a unique group name you’ve got there.” (Y/n) answered sheepishly.

“Well, I’d like to see you come up with a better rhyme for dreaming!”

“Scheming, beaming, redeeming... meme-ing.” (Y/n) listed the first words that came to her head, making Yumemi’s smile tighten further with every suggestion.

“Who’s your friend, Yumeko?” The idol asked, fake interest rolling off her tongue.

“This is my girlfriend (Y/n)!” Yumeko said with pride. “Isn’t she just so cute and smart?”

‘Smart ass maybe.’ Yumemi thought to herself.

“Anyway, I’m sorry but I can’t perform with you right now. I’ve got class and I don’t want to leave (Y/n) alone.” Yumeko explained, hugging the girl for emphasis.

“I didn’t know you were part of an idol group now, Yumeko.” (Y/n) said as Yumeko guided her towards the doorway.

“It’s just a side hobby really.”

Before they could enter Yumemi pulled (Y/n) out of Yumeko’s hold, hugging her from behind, her starry eyes dancing with mischief.

“You’ve never seen Yumeko preform then, have you (Y/n)-san?” Yumemi asked, still hugging the other girl close as she weaved her trap.

“Yumeko has sang to me before, so I know she can sing very well.” (Y/n) admitted bashfully. “I’ve never seen her act as a full blown idol before though.”

“Isn’t that something you’d like to see? We could have it all set up in a matter of minutes, wouldn’t that be great?” Yumemi coaxed.

“I wouldn’t want Yumeko to do something she doesn’t want to do. Besides, her class is starting soon.” (Y/n) said.

“I didn’t hear a no.” Yumemi sing-songed while (Y/n)’s face buzzed with heat.

“If you’d like to see then I don’t really mind, (Y/n).” Yumeko grinned, pulling her away from Yumemi, “I like the idea of singing directly to you in a sea of people. They’ll all know exactly how much you mean to me.”

“Yumeko..” (Y/n) hid her face in the giggling gambling addict’s chest.

“Oh for the love of— are we going to class or not?” Mary yelled impatiently.

“I’m afraid I have a concert to prepare for Mary-san. Will you come watch with (Y/n)?” Yumeko asked.

“Fine whatever.” Mary bristled.

They all made to leave when Mary halted Ryota with a hand to his chest.

“Wh- what?” He asked, jumpily.

“You are going to stay here and take notes. They better be good ones too.” Mary threatened.

“But—“

“Notes, Suzui.” Mary commanded. The poor boy gave a resigned nod and with drooping shoulders he sulked into the classroom.

***

While Yumeko and Yumemi prepared backstage, Mary and (Y/n) found their seats and made light conversation as more bodies filed into the seats around them. Despite dating Yumeko, Mary found that (Y/n) seemed to have a good head on her shoulders.

“Saotome-san, what is that boy taking bets for?” (Y/n) asked.

“It’s just some weird niche idol thing Yumemite does. Don’t worry about it.” Mary dismissed, though inside she was worried this would become a bigger gamble that she couldn’t possibly cover up.

“This rich people school is so weird.” (Y/n) commented offhandedly.

“Tell me about it.” Mary agreed.

The house lights dimmed and the stage was set aglow. Upbeat music began to play and the crowd around them cheered as Yumeko and Yumemi entered the stage.

They sang their opening song and (Y/n) watched with delight, her heart beating faster every time Yumeko would meet her eyes throw a flirtatious wink or smile her way. (Y/n) would wave the red glow stick she was given in return.

“Now it’s time for the event you’ve all been waiting for!” Yumemi yelled over the crowd, causing them to cheer again. “The rematch of the century!”

“Rematch? What is she talking about Saotome-san?” (Y/n) asked.

“Ah, there just seeing who can do best in various idol based competitions.” Mary responded, truly hoping that that would be it, but Yumemite wasn’t done talking just yet.

“Before you all got here, one lucky seat was chosen for the spotlight! Let’s see who it is, shall we?”

Yumemi swept her hand across the packed auditorium and one light after the other blinked across the sea of bodies while the audience cheered. A bright light shone on (Y/n) and she blinked at the sudden brightness, surprised when the light didn’t immediately flicker back off.

“And there we have it! Our visiting guest from another school, how lucky you are!” Yumemi said with mock surprise as if she hadn’t had the thing rigged from the get go.

“You’ve won the opportunity to go on a date with one of us, the Dreaming Creaming Sisters! How will it be determined who you go out with? Well, it all depends on which one of us wins this gamb—“

“Game!” Yumeko hurriedly interjected, a faint gleam of sweat streaked down her cheek.

“Well, yes, I suppose ‘game’ is also accurate.” Yumemi cocked her head at the strange outburst. Yumemi didn’t really care what Yumeko called the gamble, she just had to win it. What better way to get back at the girl than to steal her girlfriend away for a night.

“The rules to this game are simple Yumeko-chan! There will be three rounds: perfect pitch, name the tune, and choreography memory match. Win two out of three, and you’ll get to go out with our lucky chair holder! Lose, and you’ll be paying for mine and (Y/n)’s night out. I’ll warn you, I’m not cheap!” Yumemi said with a showy laugh.

“But, I’m already dating Yumeko,” (Y/n) frowned, “I can’t go on a date with someone else!”

“Just hope Yumeko wins then.” Mary sighed. At least Yumemi’s way of gambling wasn’t too obvious. Her gambles were big and grand, but to an outsider they weren’t immediately discernible as anything but stage entertainment.

“Let’s make this quick, Yumemi-chan!” Yumeko smiled, hoping she could keep her desire to up the stakes in check.

Yumeko won perfect pitch, matching nearly every note with perfect accuracy. Yumemi won name the tune as many of the songs were conveniently of a western selection. Last was the choreography memory game and (Y/n) was nervous.

(Y/n) knew that Yumeko had a splendid memory, but the girl also detested demanding physical excursions such as this. She was probably already tired from dancing at the start of the show. To (Y/n), it was not looking to good for her girlfriend.

But to (Y/n)’s surprise, Yumeko followed the impromptu routine like a champ. Yumeko refused to let Yumemi outdo her, all for the sake of keeping (Y/n) close.

“She’s going to be so sore after this.” (Y/n) marveled. “You know I used to have to threaten her to make her go to gym class?”

“You could actually make her go to gym class?” Mary rose a brow, impressed. She hadn’t seen Yumeko attend gym class since the first week of her transferring. While Mary was still a house pet, she took great pleasure in watching Yumeko suffer through that class period.

Minutes went by and the two girls each adorned a a sleek sheen of sweat as they continued to dance, matching each other step for step. The fans were going wild at the display, waiting to see how would win the dance battle of a lifetime.

Then it happened in a flash. Yumemi, in her desire to get back at Yumeko for their last gamble against Natari Kawaru, tried to add a very complex step in her next turn and fell to the stage which led to her loss.

“Jabami Yumeko wins!” The MC announced.

Saori appeared from behind stage to help Yumemi back to her feet. Though pissed and embarrassed, Yumemi hid her feelings well and congratulated Yumeko on her win.

They closed off the concert with one final song and then the event was over.

“Have a nice dinner on me!” Yumemi sparkled, shaking (Y/n)’s hand after the show before walking back to her dressing room with Saori in tow. The poor manager was sure to get an earful from the idol once they were away from polite company.

Yumeko practically collapsed in (Y/n)’s arms.

“(Y/n), I’m so tired! Carry me!” Yumeko whined.

“After all that hard work you did? Happily.” (Y/n) hoisted Yumeko onto her back and the sweaty girl squeaked joyfully, wrapping her arms around (Y/n)’s neck.

The trio talked about the show as they walked (or in Yumeko’s case, carried) through the halls, slowly making their way back to the classroom for the next class period. Mary paused in her next comment as loud, purposeful steps were quickly catching up to them.

“Jabami Yumeko!” A voice filled with contempt called from behind them.

“Oh, Sayaka! How good to see you!” Yumeko smiled, sliding off of (Y/n)’s back to try to greet the secretary with a hug.

Sayaka dodged the attempt on her life, zapping her taser in warning as she glared at the demon before her. (Y/n) wondered if all the students were allowed to carry such dangerous items at school.

“You are in violation of school rules!” Sayaka sternly informed. “You did not fill out the proper paperwork to bring an outsider into Hyakkaou.”

“Really Yumeko,” Mary scoffed, “those are like, the easiest papers to fill out.”

“I’m sorry Sayaka, it must have slipped my mind.” Yumeko apologized.

“Your apologies mean nothing to me. Escort the girl out now.” Sayaka clipped.

“All I want is to spend time with my girlfriend. Surely you could make an exception just this once, Sayaka, friend?” Yumeko pleaded.

“Don’t refer to me as your friend,” Sayaka’s jaw clenched, “better yet, don’t refer to me ever.” Then Sayaka’s expression switched from hostile to something akin to a hopeful curiousness. “Did you say girlfriend? Like dating... monogamously perhaps? As in, you aren’t looking to be dating someone else right now? You want to spend more time with her than anyone else?”

“Yes!” Yumeko nodded, smiling obliviously.

Sayaka turned her attention to (Y/n), walking up to the other girl and grasping (Y/n)’s hands tightly in hers.

“Never break up with her,” Sayaka said, the closeness of her face scaring (Y/n) slightly, “please.”

“I um, wasn’t planning on it.” (Y/n) stuttered in reply.

“My, what do we have going on here?” A silky voice called from behind the group. Sayaka gasped and removed her hands from (Y/n) as if they had burned her.

“President! Vice president! What are you doing here?” The secretary asked.

“I’ve been hearing rumors of Yumeko stirring up my aquarium with a new fish.” Kirari’s lips curled in an interested smile as she eyed the unfamiliar girl. “This must be the one, hm?”

“This is (L/n) (Y/n), my girlfriend. She’s visiting me over the long weekend and I wanted to show her around the school to maximize our time together. Unfortunately I didn’t fill out the proper forms, you’ll allow it won’t you president? Please?” Yumeko explained with a cute pout that made Sayaka livid.

“Of course.” Kirari easily complied, tapping a blue nail against her smiling, equally blue lips. “She’ll just have to gamble with me first.”

Oh no. She said it.

“Gamble?” (Y/n) looked at the president questioningly while Yumeko and Mary hosted a silent eye battle between themselves to figure out how to deescalate the situation.

“Yes, dating Yumeko, I can imagine you must be amazing at it to catch her eye,” Kirari produced a pack of cards from her blazer, “any preferences?”

“I’m not much of a gambler, neither is Yumeko. I’m not quite sure I understand.” (Y/n) answered.

“Not much of a gambler, Yumeko?” Kirari’s lips rose into a highly amused smile.

“What she means to say is that I’ve dabbled in some friendly school gambles while I’ve been here. It’s kind of a tradition at this school, (Y/n). All in good fun.” Yumeko laughed.

“Yes, try telling that to the house pets.” Kirari mused.

“Could you just, shut up for like, five minutes?” Mary seethed, turning to the masked girl standing silently at Kirari’s left, “I thought I told you to keep your sister occupied today so this exact thing wouldn’t happen.”

Ririka shyly removed her mask, looking contrite. “I tried but she wanted to know what Igarashi-san was doing.”

“Could someone please explain to me what is going on here?” (Y/n) asked holding her hands out expectantly as she looked over each face in the little group they had formed in the middle of the hall.

“How about this,” Kirari circled the girl, “you beat me in a gamble and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“And if I lose?” (Y/n) questioned.

“No penalty. This is highly entertaining for me as it stands. I just want to know if I can see what Yumeko sees in you.”

“Then I guess I don’t see the harm in it.”

“Excellent. Let’s take this party to the student council room shall we?”

Yumeko nervously twirled her ring as she watched (Y/n) sit across from the president. Kirari had all sorts of gambling dirt of her, as much as she loved (Y/n), she hoped the girl would lose this one.

“Blackjack?” Kirari asked as she shuffled the deck.

“I don’t know how to play that actually.” (Y/n) said.

“That’s fine. Texas Hold ‘Em?”

“No, sorry.”

“How about gin rummy?”

“Haven’t heard of it.”

“Thirty-one?”

“Nope.”

“Ten card no peek baseball?”

“Is that a real thing?”

“What card game do you know?” Kirari tried instead.

“...Go Fish?” (Y/n) replied.

“A woman after my own heart.” Kirari said, causing Sayaka to pout severely.

Kirari dealt the cards, spreading the remaining deck face down between them and the game was set. The pairs flowed evenly for the first couple minutes until (Y/n) had to go fish and Kirari obtained a small lead on her. (Y/n) just as quickly turned the tides a few turns later with a good guessing streak that landed her five more pairs.

The casual luck and easy going attitude (Y/n) presented while gambling with the president made Yumeko even more attracted to her girlfriend by the second, but still she hoped Kirari would turn it back around somehow.

It appeared luck wasn’t on Yumeko’s side however, as (Y/n) won the game with three more pairs then Kirari. The president smiled, mildly impressed by the outsider’s victory.

“Well then, what questions do you have for me?” She asked, shifting in her seat to cross her legs the other way.

“So this is some crazy gambling school, right?” (Y/n) asked with no preamble, not pulling any punches.

“Crazy would be subjective, but gambling is as important in this school as breathing. I’ve made sure of that.” Kirari answered.

“And Yumeko gambles.” (Y/n) said, mostly looking for acknowledgement that clarified the validity of the statement.

“Yes, one of the best in the school.” Kirari praised.

“It’s not dangerous though, right? She hasn’t done anything too drastic?”

Yumeko bowed her head, twisting her ring with a bit more force. A blush coated her skin as her heartbeat pounded in her chest. This was like a gamble in itself and oh, how intense it felt!

“Mm, hard to say.” Kirari shrugged, “I feel as though our definitions of these terms may differ.”

(Y/n) turned to face Yumeko who looked every bit the part of a scolded puppy. She didn’t need to ask any more questions. Not for Kirari to answer anyway.

“Yumeko, just what have you been up to?” (Y/n) asked, covering Yumeko’s hands to cease their twisting.

“(Y/n), I’ve been hiding something from you.” She sniffled, “I’ve been hiding it from you for a long time!”

“What is it?” (Y/n) asked gently, patting the girl’s silky hair.

“I’m, I’m a compulsive gambler!”

“Really?” (Y/n) was stunned.

“Yes, it’s true. I’ve had so many gambles I know you wouldn’t approve of.” Yumeko blinked her tears away as she allowed the truth to be out in the open. “I’ve gambled myself into millions worth of debt just so I could gamble even more, I’ve bet my finger nails, I’ve played Russian Roulette, I’ve bet my free will against become a pop idol and never being able to date again... I’m sorry you had to find it all out like this.”

“Yumeko...” (Y/n) was speechless, she didn’t know what to make of all this. Her sweet, adorable girlfriend had an intense gambling addiction that made her put herself in harm’s way on the daily?

“Please don’t break up, please don’t break up, please don’t...” Sayaka mumbled quietly to herself, rolling something that looked suspiciously like prayer beads in her hands. All the poor secretary wanted was for the snake to have a keeper that would pull her attention away from her president, was that so much to ask for?

(Y/n) sighed through her nose and pinched Yumeko’s arm harshly.

“Ow!” Yumeko whined.

“That’s for keeping secrets.” (Y/n) huffed, pinching Yumeko’s other arm, “that’s for putting yourself in dangerous situations. And this,”

Yumeko closed her eyes, waiting for another stinging pinch. Instead, she received a sweet kiss on her cheek.

“This is an apology for making you feel like you had to hide from me. I love you.”

“I love you too!” Yumeko sniffled, knocking her head into (Y/n)’s chest as she hugged her tightly.

“This doesn’t mean you’re getting a free pass anymore though, no more life changing gambles!”

“...how about three a week.” Yumeko asked shyly.

“Once a month max. You’ll kill me, my heart won’t be able to take the stress.”

“This day has been exhausting.” Mary groaned. “I thought I wasn’t going to let myself be dragged into this idiotic mess.”

“You’re a true friend, Mary-san!” Yumeko clapped.

“Ugh,” Mary ignored her, “come on Ririka, we’re running late for our next election gamble.

Ririka hurried over to the blonde and they exited the room together. (Y/n) and Yumeko followed after giving a cheery goodbye to the amused president and her disgruntled secretary.

“Lessons are over for the day,” Yumeko grinned, hugging (Y/n)’a arm as they walked towards the front gates of the school. “I bet you’re hungry, we didn’t even have time for lunch.”

“Food sounds awesome right now. Any suggestions?”

“I know a few places that might be good. We can go over them while we get ready in my apartment.”

“Sounds great.”

“Don’t let money discourage your final decision. Remember that Yumemi has graciously agreed to pay for our date tonight!”

“Oh yes, how could I forget my almost date with a pop star. How are your legs feeling by the way?”

“They’re so sore (Y/n)! Every step hurts!” Yumeko whined.

“Alright,” (Y/n) bent forward, “up, up.”

“Yay!” Yumeko cheered hopping onto (Y/n)’s back.

Yumeko refused to get off of (Y/n)’s back until they got home... which made taking the bus a little awkward.

~~~

Bonus Scene

Ryota sat stalk still in his desk, watching the hours tick by in the darkened classroom only lit by the soft light from the street lamps outside. He looked down at his notebook, filled with notes, two identical hand written copies for Mary and Yumeko. He looked back at the door, waiting for it to slide open.

“Yumeko, Mary-san,” Ryota weakly called, “please come back soon, I’m so hungry.”

[the-modernmary]

chess, not checkers || a. hotchner x f!reader

Summary: Cross-examining Agent Hotchner should have been a lot more simple than it had been. But when the questioning slips out of your control, you find yourself being profiled right there in the middle of the courtroom. Amazing how one stranger can know you better than anybody you've ever met.

Contains: SMUT! 18+ only, minors DNI. Fingering, (light) choking, semi-public sex, adultery, anger sex, enemies to lovers, edging, lawyer hotch <3

Word Count: 8k+

Comments: This is so heavily inspired by “charcoal grey” because we all know how hot he was in that scene. Thank you to @angelfxllcm for being an absolute godsend as I wrote this and being the most supportive friend ever. (If you haven’t read her work, you absolutely should!)

“Fucking FBI and their selfish ass schedules,” you grumbled as you hurried through the hallway of the courthouse, your intern Robin on on your heels. “Court gets pushed back for a week because Agent Hotchner just had to leave with them on a case instead of working remotely, and then expects us to drop everything to go to court the second he gets back to D.C. As if we don’t have jobs too. As if I don’t have six other cases sitting on my desk that now have to be pushed back because of him.”

 Robin scrambled behind you, nodding along to every word that left your mouth. “Does this happen with the, uh…”

  “BAU,” you supplied.

  “—BAU, right. Do court cases usually get pushed back for them?”

  You shook your head as you checked your watch. A glint caught the corner of your eye. Shit, your ring. You hadn’t expected to go to court, and completely forgot to leave it at home. You pulled it off and slipped it into the outside pocket of your bag, hoping nobody noticed.

“No. Most cases from the BAU never go to court,” you explained. “There’s enough evidence against the people they arrest that it’s almost always a plea.”

  The Bankers Box in Robin’s hands almost slipped as you placed another file precariously on top of it. “Then why is this case going to court?”

  Your step faltered as you processed her question, and you couldn’t hide the disbelief on your face. “You did read the brief for this case, right?” you asked, unsure if you really wanted the answer, except her embarrassed blush and averted gaze gave you enough of one. “Seriously? Okay, well, first of all, because of that, you won’t be sitting at the attorney’s table with us. Instead you’ll be in the public seating. I won’t weaken my case because you decided to be unprepared. If this happens again, you won’t be welcome to join me in court at all, am I clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Deciding to take pity on the poor intern, you sighed as you started your explanation. “Our client claims that his arrest was unlawful and therefore none of the evidence they found should be usable. I’m inclined to agree with him, so we’re fighting all of the charges that were made with evidence found after the arrest.”

  “So you don’t think he’s guilty?”

  “I don’t ask that question. I’m not God and I’m not his priest, I don’t need to hear his confession. I just need to get him out of unjust and illegal charges.”

  Robin’s eyebrows furrowed. “So he’s going to walk free? Even after everything he did? How do you sleep at night?”

  Fucking Christ, how did this girl even get into law school? You rolled your eyes, suddenly regretting your decision to take on an intern. “No, he’s not going to walk free. He’s going to get a lesser charge, because everything else was obtained illegally. And I sleep very well, actually, because my job isn’t some episode of Law & Order. Less than 10% of my cases ever go to trial. I’m not here to suddenly convince juries that the evidence is wrong. My job is making sure that everybody is given their constitutional rights, that the police are doing their jobs correctly, and that the State isn’t over-punishing. Any cop knows that, and if you ever come across one that doesn’t, you know that you should look into those cases even further. You have to realize, criminal defense lawyers—”

  “— are the last line of protection against a corrupt system.” You turned to see your assistant, Marcus, making his way towards you, briefcase and your spare blazer that you keep in the office in hand. “I see you’re giving her your famous anti-prosecutor lecture.”

  Marcus helped you slip on your blazer over your satin button up, his hands lingering on your skin for just a little too long to be considered professional, and it made you shiver in anticipation. “God knows she needs it. Thank you, Marcus, for bringing these so quickly. Were you able to get the physical copies of Agent Hotchner’s files?”

  Marcus held up his briefcase. “All right here. Although I have to say, I’m a little lost as to why you need his service records.”

  The three of you turned the corner to enter the courtroom, your heels clicking on the tiled floor. Robin obediently took her seat in the public viewing area while you and Marcus pushed through the swinging door to settle at your table. “I’ve heard stories of Agent Hotchner’s testimonies. He used to be a prosecutor, so he’s not easily tricked, but he is prideful and will defend his work. I’m going to use that to my advantage. It’s like I always say, practicing law means always playing chess, never checkers.”

  Marcus took the seat next to you, making sure to sit close enough that his knee brushed yours the whole time. “You know, I was thinking, this case is complicated,” he whispered, “And we haven’t combed through everything yet… It could take more time than we planned.”

  You smirked, knowing exactly what he was insinuating. “Agreed. I’ll tell Tony I have to stay late at the office tonight.”

  Before Marcus could continue his flirting, you were distracted by the door to the judge’s chamber opening, revealing the back of a man in a black suit. “Thank you again, your honor, for the continuance,” came the deep timbre of the man, and oh. You certainly weren’t expecting that. “A young girl was able to be reunited with her family this week because of it.”

  The man in the doorway turned, and your breath caught in your throat. He was tall and buff and expensive-looking and absolutely gorgeous. His suit was tailored to fit him perfectly, the sleeves of his blazer straining against his biceps. He carried himself with an aura of confidence, like he belonged in the courtroom, and he was making his way directly towards you. Unconsciously, you separated from Marcus, putting as much distance between you and your assistant as possible without raising suspicion.

  The man said something to the prosecution before turning to you, hand outstretched. He said your name as a greeting, and your name had never sounded so good. “I’m Aaron Hotchner.”

  When you stood up to shake his hand, you tried to ignore the way his eyes raked down your body, or the way the two of you held on just a moment too long to be considered proper. It felt as if he was looking right through you, learning all of your secrets as though they were written on your body. No, you knew that look. He was studying you. “Agent Hotchner, it’s a pleasure.”

  “Likewise, Counselor. Please, call me Aaron.”

  You raised your eyebrows in Aaron’s direction, still shaking his hand, and it made your skin burn. You dropped his hand. “I’m just glad we’re able to get this case done and over with. Hopefully with no more delays.”

  His eyebrows quirked upwards in what could only be described as shock. “I see your reputation precedes you,” was his only reply before going to his respective seat, and if he noticed you watching his every move, he made no indication of it. That being said, you definitely felt his gaze on the back of your head as the judge entered the room and the session began.

  As the proceedings dragged on, you and Marcus continued to talk strategy, his hand finding its way to your thigh ever so often. You also continued negotiating with the prosecutor, both of you flashing Post-It notes of potential plea deals that you would be willing to accept, always careful to keep it out of the eyes of the judge and jury. By the time Aaron had been called to the stand, the offer given to you still wasn’t low enough. Fine, if the prosecution wanted to make a fool of themselves, so be it.

  You listened to Aaron’s testimony with the prosecution, completely enraptured. There was something about the way he spoke, so full of authority and confidence, that made the entire room drawn to him. He was incredibly intelligent, that much was clear, and despite the many years since he had actually practiced law, that prosecutor candor hadn’t left him. Staying focused on the case had proven to be more difficult than previously expected. You found yourself staring at his lips, and it didn’t take long for your mind to conjure up some obscene and explicit situations starring the man in front of you. 

  Eventually, his eyes caught yours, and he watched you, his lips — god, those lips — quirked up in a smirk. Aaron watched you expectantly, and in the light of the courtroom, his eyes were almost the color of whiskey, and you wanted nothing more than to drink it all in.

  A sharp “Counselor” broke you out of your trance. In the corner of your eye, you could see Marcus looking at you in concern, but he was the furthest thing from your mind now, especially as Aaron let out an amused huff of air.

  “Counselor, does the prosecution wish to cross-examine the witness?” the judge asked with barely hidden annoyance, making you think that it probably wasn’t the first time she had asked the question.

  You stood up quickly, smoothing down your pencil skirt as you did. “Yes, your honor. Thank you,” you said, trying your best to keep your voice steady as you noticed Aaron’s eyes trailing down your bare legs.

  The cross-examination started normally, and Aaron answered all of your questions with careful precision that only a lawyer could pull off. He seemed to know exactly where you were trying to go with your questions, and easily sidestepped any unflattering implication you were trying to make. Long, biased questions were met with short, clipped answers, not giving you anything to work with. Whatever move you made, Aaron was right there, two steps ahead with you. Never in your life had you met somebody who could follow you so easily or could match your wit without so much breaking a sweat.

  It was exhilarating.

  “Agent Hotchner,” you started, hands clasped behind your back. “Could you please explain to the court how profiles are used when finding and apprehending suspects?”

  Aaron sat up a little taller in the witness box. “Using behavioral research and past case studies, we’re able to construct what we call a profile of the perpetrator, or unsub. Anything they do can give us insights as to who they are — their victims, what weapons they use, even how they dispose of the bodies. Once we have a profile of who we believe is committing these crimes, we have our technical analyst run the parameters through her system. From there, narrowing down our search is easy.”

  You nodded slowly, pretending to mull over what he was saying. “For clarification’s sake, in layman’s terms, you build your profile off of assumed psychology, and not concrete evidence, is that correct?”

  The muscles in Aaron’s jaw flexed, a sure sign he was gritting his teeth. “Behavior analysis is a tool, just like any other—”

  “It’s a yes or no question, Agent,” you interrupted, and oh, he was not happy about that.

  His tongue darted out from between his lips. “The research we use for behavior is—”

  “Yes. Or no.”

  Aaron hesitated, his frustration building up to palpable tension that settled in the courtroom like a thick fog. You weren’t giving him a chance to explain or show off anymore, didn’t allow him to be seen as the smartest person in the room anymore, and that was getting to him.

  “Yes,” he conceded, grimacing as if admitting that was physically painful for him.

  “Thank you,” you replied, and he caught the unspoken that wasn’t so hard now, was it? even if the rest of the room did not. You walked back over to your table, snatching up a piece of paper and holding it in the air. “Your honor, the defense would like to submit Exhibit Seven into evidence.”

  Once the judge gave her express permission, you placed the form in front of Aaron with your left hand, perfectly manicured fingers splayed out in front of his eyes. You almost missed the way his head tilted ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed, like he was staring at a puzzle half complete. “Agent, could you please tell us what’s laying in front of you now.”

  He leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the paper before meeting back with yours. “This is a part of our official report of the case. Specifically, it has the profile that was used to lead us to the apprehension of Mr. Mckenna.”

  “Does it say on that paper who had the final sign off on the profile before it was circulated?”

  “Yes, that would be me. As Unit Chief, my job is to sign and finalize any reports.”

  “And could you please read the profile, verbatim, as written on that report?”

  Aaron’s face remained neutral, with the exception of his eyebrows scrunching together. Slowly, he had started to piece together your strategy, and he didn’t like it. “The unsub is a white male, between 32 and 40 years old. He’ll most likely be unemployed and driving a van or truck — anything that would let him easily transport his equipment and victims. We believe that he’s also had run-ins with the law before, likely as a juvenile. He’ll come across as friendly, if not a little shy. We believe that this comes from a failed relationship in his past, one where he believes that he was manipulated and wronged, and now he’s going after surrogates for that woman. Killing these women is the only thing that gives him any sort of power. If we can figure out who this past relationship was, it will lead us directly to the killer.”

  You paced back and forth in front of the witness stand, your skirt tightening around your legs with every step you took. “Between 32 and 40 years old, unemployed, and killing surrogates… Except Mr. Mckenna is 22 and works part time as a bartender. How do you justify arresting my client with those inconsistencies?”

  “As I mentioned before,” Aaron started, his voice dangerously low, “A profile is just one tool we use of many. Not every single part of the profile will fit every single time. Which is why we also rely on outside evidence to ensure that we have the best chance at catching the unknown subject as quickly as possible.”

  “Except you had no concrete evidence, which you admit in your own report!” You took two steps closer to him, getting as in his face as possible without risking being held in contempt. With every word that left your mouth, your voice got more and more forceful, and you got more and more under Aaron’s skin.

  “All of it was circumstantial at best. You had a hunch, an inherent bias against my client due to his previous conviction record, and you were frustrated at your own inability to get a good lead. But you can’t arrest somebody on a hunch, or because you’re angry. You had no evidence and the man you arrested didn’t even match the profile that you came up with!”

  Your eyes locked with Aaron, his gaze heavy, and neither of you dared look away first. “Objection!” came from the prosecutor behind you. Exactly what you wanted. “Argumentative and foundation.” You flashed Aaron a predatory grin.

  Two moves to checkmate.

  “Sustained,” said the judge.

  “Withdrawn.” You tapped the witness bench, hoping to convey an air of aloofness and calm. Aaron scowled. “Agent Hotchner, before joining the FBI, you were a prosecutor, is that true?”

  Confusion flashed across his face for the briefest of moments, and it gave you a twisted sense of satisfaction to know that you had the upper hand. You knew the answer to every question you were about to ask, and he knew that. He just couldn’t figure out where you were going with this line of questioning, or what the relevance even was. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  You made a soft hum of approval. “Could you please walk us through your higher education?”

  “I attended George Washington University for both my undergraduate and law degree.”

  “What did you major in for your undergrad?”

  Aaron hesitated. “Political Science.”

  Check. “So all together, you’ve had about seven years in higher education. In that time, how many psychology classes did you take?”

  It was almost sadistic, the way you relished in the slight twitch of his face — the realization that he had been backed into a corner. The silence was deafening as Aaron’s scowl met your smug grin.

  “None,” Aaron said finally.

  “None,” you repeated, performative shock dripping from your words. “Do you have any academic background in psychology or human behavior, then?”

  Aaron’s jaw clenched, and as you made your way closer to the witness stand, you saw his thumb frantically moving back and forth over his fingertips. Clearly, you had struck a nerve. “The FBI has rigorous coursework in order to become a profiler, along with multiple exams and continued training as more research becomes available to us. The profiling classes are no easy feat and are written by experts in the field. Creating profiles has a long and respected history in detective work, and these profilers have caught some of the most prolific serial killers of all time.”

  You placed a hand over your chest in faux modesty. “My apologies, Agent Hotchner, I believe I wasn’t very clear. I’m not calling into question the validity and effectiveness of profiles. I’m calling into question the validity and effectiveness of you as a profiler.”

  You could practically see the cartoon fire spewing out of Aaron’s ears. He was so close to being in your trap, something he had to have known, too, yet he continued to toe dangerously close to that line.

  “A lack of formal education in profiling,” you continued, keeping your voice light, “and the blatant disregard for basic police and legal procedure as shown in this case with my client… I mean, how many other mistakes were made in your past cases? It’s hard to believe that you can read anybody, much less the hardened criminal that you have painted my client to be.”

  Checkmate.

  “Objection!” cried the prosecutor again. “Your Honor, this is —”

  He was cut off by the judge raising her hand. “Sustained. Counselor, I would advise you to tread lightly from here on out.”

  You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Withdrawn.” You turned around to make your way back to your table, ignoring Marcus’s look of complete disbelief. Baiting Aaron had been easy, and now all you had to do was wait.

  The courtroom was uncomfortably silent for one beat… two beats…

  “Not only can I read Mr. Mckenna,” echoed Aaron’s voice, “But I can also read you.”

  Once you got back to your desk, you turned around, hands resting on the cool wood of the table top, but you never sat down. Instead, you leaned forward, and arched your eyebrows in a silent challenge — one he was all too eager to pursue.

  “The red Harvard Law tag on your briefcase is a perfect match to your lipstick, and you wear the same one every time you go to court. Not because you’re superstitious the way most lawyers are, but because it’s your way of maintaining control in the courtroom, something you���re desperate to keep in every aspect of your life, personal and professional. I would guess that this need goes back to late high school, early college. But you’ve been worried about appearances and how you’re perceived for even longer than that.”

  You fought the urge to roll your eyes. So he thought you were Type A? Anybody could have guessed that by your anything. All they would have to do is look at your color coded case files or your daily schedule, planned down to the minute. You had only been trying to sway the jury when you insinuated that he wasn’t a good profiler, but maybe you were actually starting to believe it yourself.

  Except Aaron got a dangerous glint in his eye, causing your stomach to bubble with anxiety. Clearly, he was playing chess, too, and by the looks of it, he believed he was winning. 

  “In fact, you’re so worried about losing control, that despite your busy schedule, you refuse to hire a planner for your upcoming wedding.”

  That got your attention. The objection that you were about to call died on your lips, and all you could do was stare with poorly hidden shock. Next to you, Marcus turned pale as a ghost.

  Aaron, cocky bastard, continued his profile of you, with no clear signs of stopping anytime soon. “You have a tan where your ring usually is, and I know you’ve been wearing it recently as you subconsciously fiddle with where it would be whenever things in court aren’t going your way. Just like you’re doing now. You still have your maiden name, which you plan on giving up when you do get married because not taking his last name would arouse too many questions that you want to avoid. Just another way your concern of appearances is manifested. So you’re engaged.

  “I would say congratulations, but it’s not a happy relationship, not on your side, anyway. Younger female professionals will take their rings off in fear of not being taken seriously, but you’re an established and respected lawyer. You needn't worry about that. So if it’s not about you, it’s about the fiance. You don’t want to be associated with him.”

  You gripped the edge of the table, too angry to form words. Your nails dug into the varnish, and you were sure that your heavy breathing could be heard from across the room. This dick. This absolute, garbage, piece of shit dick. The worst part was how casual he sounded as he aired all of your dirty laundry for everybody to hear.

  “He’s holding you back, in all aspects of life, but mostly intellectually. He doesn’t have a sliver of your capabilities. The two of you are probably high school sweethearts, prom king and queen type, but while you grew up and matured, he never did. He can’t keep up with you. Still acts the same way he did in high school, only now with more access to alcohol and money. Career wise, he doesn’t have much going for him, probably some sports related pipe dream. But you stay with him because you know how to control him and how to use him to your advantage.”

  Aaron’s eyes zeroed in on Marcus, and all of the color drained from your face. The voice in the back of your mind was screaming at you to object, to get the judge involved, anything, before Aaron did any more damage, but you were frozen in your spot. For the first time in your life, you were completely and utterly speechless and spiraling out of control.

  “That need for control is also why you’re sleeping with your assistant. It’s casual for you, but not for him anymore. You should break that off. That’s nothing new for you, though. In fact, I would bet that if we looked back at all of your affairs since your engagement, we’d find a long string of men and women, all of whom are your subordinates or of lower status than you. It’s a win-win situation — they’re more than eager to have a chance with you, and you get to stay in control. Oh, you’ll stop when you actually get married, but you continue to push that date back, as well. So…”

  He leaned back in his chair, clearly feeling good about himself, and God, you could kill him. You could reach over the witness box and wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze until his whiskey colored eyes popped out of his smug, beautiful face.

  Aaron lifted his chin, eyebrows raised in your direction. “Do you believe in my abilities as a profiler now, Counselor?”

  That snapped you back into action. You cleared your throat and unnecessarily smoothed down your skirt in an attempt to regroup your thoughts. “Well, Agent Hotchner, thank you for that little show and tell. It’s clear that you are very passionate about your career. However, just like your profile of my client, you have no evidence for any of your unsubstantiated accusations.”

  It was a pathetic attempt at saving face, and Aaron knew it, but it had to be enough for you. You turned your back towards Aaron so that you could face the judge, who, to her credit, had a perfect poker face the whole time. “Your Honor, I move to strike Agent Hotchner’s outburst” — not an outburst, Aaron was too composed to ever have one of those, but he grimaced at the word all the same — “from the record, as no question stands before the witness at this time.”

  The judge looked at you dubiously, clearly debating her ruling. There shouldn’t have been any reason to worry, you were legally in the right, but there was always the chance that she wouldn’t be on your side. You noticed yourself fiddling with where your engagement ring would usually be, and you cursed yourself under your breath. How could Aaron have possibly known all of that?

  “Sustained,” she said finally, “I direct the jury to disregard the witness’s, uh, example when considering the evidence.”

  You let out a breath of relief. It wasn’t much of a win — everybody still heard what had happened, it was still in the back of their minds, like the ring of a bell echoing — but at least in regards to the case, you had the legal upper hand.

  The judge turned back to you. “Defense, the witness is still yours, if you have any further questions.”

  If you were a little more in your right mind, you would have cut your losses, but between your oath to defend your client to the best of your ability and that stupid self assured grin on Aaron’s face, you knew that you really had no choice.

  Deep breath in… Slow breath out… You’re at a stalemate now.

  “Agent Hotchner,” you said, causing him to perk him up in interest. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting you to continue. “Wouldn’t an ex-lawyer and an FBI agent be familiar with the rules of decorum in a courtroom?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I understand your question, Counselor.”

  “Let me rephrase, then. Would you say that you have a history of emotional outbursts and rule breaking in your line of work? And I’ll remind you that you are still under oath.”

  Aaron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No, I wouldn’t. Integrity is one of our core values, and we take that very seriously.”

  With shaking hands, Marcus handed you one of the files you’d had him print out on Aaron. “If that’s so, can you explain why, since your promotion to Unit Chief in 2005, you and your team have had seven disciplinary hearings, one of which being an internal investigation into the excessive force used by one of your agents, and another being a congressional hearing?”

  A sick sense of satisfaction passed over you when you saw him get visibly shocked, his poker face breaking for the first time that day. If he wanted to go for blood, you could fight back twice as hard. “I’m not at liberty to discuss either of those cases.”

  You shrugged nonchalantly. “Very well, Agent. So between the discrepancies in the profile, your inability to control your temper, and your history of breaking procedure, coupled with the fact that you arrested my client without any warrant by kicking in the door to an innocent civilian’s house, do you really believe that your arrest and the subsequent evidence that came from that arrest was obtained legally? Or do you just not care either way, as long as you’re able to prove that you’re right?”

  Right as he opened his mouth to speak, you turned your back on him and started to walk back to your table. Aaron wasn’t even able to get a peep out before you cut him off with a sharp “Question withdrawn. At this time, the defense rests.”

  “Our arrest was made on the grounds of—” Aaron tried, and you smirked to yourself. He must have been desperate if he was trying that move twice. You whipped around, gaze steeled.

  “I have no further questions, Agent Hotchner,” you repeated, only letting out the slightest hint of amusement. “But thank you for your cooperation with Lady Justice today.”

  Aaron’s eyes met yours, and a weight settled in the pit of your stomach. You should have hated him, but something about him had you completely and utterly entranced by him. Maybe it was the novelty of the case. Maybe it was the matching intellects and the fact that he was the only other person who could give you a challenge.

  Maybe you just liked the way you got to lose control with him.

  As he passed you, his arm brushed yours, and your whole body burned.

  “Very cute, Counselor,” he whispered, voice dripping with condescension. “How long did it take you to come up with that little switch up?”

  “Don’t patronize me,” you snapped. “I was playing chess, you were playing checkers, and that’s why you lost.”

  The rest of the session went on normally, if not a little tense. To your surprise, Aaron hadn’t left immediately after his testimony, and instead took a seat in the section for the public. Good. As soon as courtroom decorum wasn’t a factor, you were sure to give him a piece of your mind.

  Court adjourned for the day, and you couldn’t get out of there fast enough. You told Marcus to continue to push for a better plea option as you grabbed your briefcase and stormed out, pushing through the throngs of people until you could see the back of Aaron’s head.

  You sped up your steps until you were right behind him, and you grabbed his wrist to stop him in his tracks. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

  You pulled Aaron into an empty conference room, hoping to get some privacy before you completely blew your lid. You already had one public humiliation because of him, and you did not need another.

  “What is your problem?” you hissed, locking the door behind you. “You had no right to put my personal life on blast like that.”

  Aaron placed his hands on his hips, swooping the sides of his suit jacket back, and you had to make a very conscious effort to not stare. “You questioned my profiling abilities, and I proved them.”

  “You didn’t prove shit,” you argued, folding your arms across your chest. “Except for the fact that you’re an insufferable bastard.”

  “Are you saying that my profile was off? Because if you didn’t want to be caught committing adultery, then you shouldn’t have made it so obvious.”

  You gritted your teeth and took a step towards him in a futile attempt to come across as intimidating. Even in your heels, he still seemed to be towering over you. You’d have to level the playing field somehow. You gripped his tie and used it to pull him down so that he was closer to eye level with you. “I don’t need your judgment, Aaron.”

  Aaron moved closer to you, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His Adam's apple bobbed and it captivated you. “I couldn’t care less about what you do,” he said flippantly. “Matter of fact, I don’t think this fit of anger is even inherently about your little secret coming out. Do you want to know what I think it is?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I think,” he continued, completely ignoring your protest, “You’re angry because as much as you can dish it out, you can’t take it.”

  Your grip on his tie tightened at his words. “Trust me, I can take anything,” you said, voice low and breathy.

  Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips — those kissable, red stained lips of yours. You hadn’t had to reapply your lipstick once throughout the day, and he idly wondered just exactly what it would take to muss up that perfect, pouty red lip. 

  “I also think that for the first time in a very long time, you didn’t have control, and you liked it.” He bent down a little bit more so that his lips brushed against your ear with every word and you could feel his breath run down your spine. “Aren’t you bored of sleeping with boys who are so far beneath you?”

  You’re not sure who initiated it, but the next thing you knew, your lips crashed against his, the two of you making out like it was the last kiss either of you were ever going to get. His hands felt impossibly everywhere all at once — gripping your hips, tugging at your hair, and even snaking under your work blouse to palm at your breast. His teeth nipped at the fibres of your lips. With every movement of his hands, little gasps escaped you, and you could feel the curve of his lips curling up into a smirk.

  His fingers trailed up the side of your body, past the curve of your neck, and tangled themselves in your hair before yanking it back, exposing the column of your throat. Immediately he attached his lips to your neck, nipping at your pulse point.

  “Aaron,” you whined, trying to regain the breath he stole from your lungs. You practically melted in his arms, going completely weak at the knees, especially as his tongue trailed across the underside of your jaw. You let his tie fall from your grip, instead bringing your hands up to cup his face to pull him in for another kiss. 

  His lips set a bruising pace, and it caused a fire to burn in the pit of your stomach. You had never once been kissed like this, never once felt so all-consumed by a person. Aaron’s cologne surrounded you, making your head spin. Bruises were sure to form from how harshly he was gripping your hips, but you didn’t care. He was addicting, and you wanted more.

  Hotch walked you backwards until you were pressed up against the wall, his thigh shoved in between your legs, forcing your skirt to ride up. The position made his arousal obvious as he pressed against you. The way he held you was possessive, primal even, Unconsciously, you ground down on his thigh, hoping for anything to help relieve the ache between your legs. 

  Unfortunately for you, Aaron caught on to what you were trying to do, and he chuckled against your lips before pulling away just far enough to speak. “Look at you,” he whispered, and the raspiness of his voice only served to turn you on even more. He hooked a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him, and his thumb traced your bottom lip, tugging at it ever so slightly. His other hand slowly trailed its way up your thigh, nails scratching at your skin. “Skirt hiked up around your waist, desperate to get off. Your little boyfriends aren’t doing it for you anymore?”

  He pressed his thigh further into you, ripping an involuntary moan from your throat. “Fuck,” you gasped, your hips still moving back and forth against him, not caring how needy it made you seem. “I need… I…”

  “What? Big, bad lawyer doesn’t have any more smart ass comments?” he cooed sarcastically, pushing your skirt up even higher. He replaced his thigh with his hand, and his fingers ghosted over your covered pussy, teasing you, not giving you nearly enough contact. “Fuck, you’re so wet already. Go ahead, needy girl, if you’re that desperate.” Aaron yanked down your panties in one fell swoop, and you blindly kicked them off to the side. “Be a good girl and show me how much you want this.”

  Without any more of a warning, one of his fingers entered you, and you let out a breathy moan that Aaron was sure to have on repeat in his mind for days to come. When the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your brain completely short circuited. You threw your head back as far as you could despite being pressed against the wall as his name clumsily tumbled from your lips like a prayer.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted, pressing you further against the wall. “Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

  Electricity coursed through your veins as he added a second finger, easily finding that spot in you that made you see stars. You rocked your hips back and forth against his hand, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. His lips trailed from your jawline, down your neck, and to your collarbone. 

  “Look at me,” Aaron ordered, tightening his grip on your chin, and your eyes shot right back open. Instead of the whiskey colored irises you had gotten used to, Aaron’s pupils were so blown that they made his eyes completely black. “I want to see you lose control all over me. Gonna make sure you come harder for me than you have for any of your boy toys.”

  That wouldn’t be very difficult. Nobody had ever made you feel the way you did then, Aaron’s fingers buried deep in your cunt and lips exploring every inch of skin he could access. No part of this was for his pleasure — from the curl of his fingers to the slow circles on your clit, it was all expertly calculated to bring you to the edge with as much intensity as possible, and it was all devastatingly effective.

  “I’m so close,” you whimpered, and if it weren’t for the wall behind you, you would have completely lost your balance. “More, fuck, please.”

  “More?” he mumbled against the column of your throat. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

  Coherent sentences were not an option for you at the moment, not when you were so deliciously overwhelmed with pleasure and with Aaron. Besides, how could you tell him that you wanted him to completely and utterly ruin you? That you wanted him to bend you over the conference table and pound into you until you could barely speak. You wanted Aaron to mark you and send you home to your fiance with reminders of every little thing he did to you for the days to come. You wanted raw and untamed passion. You wanted to be consumed, for him to settle in your lungs like smoke, and haunt your dreams for the rest of your life. 

  You didn’t want nice and calculated the way every other man you’d been with had acted — you wanted Aaron Hotchner to take control.

  You couldn't say any of that, so instead, you grabbed his wrist, the one that was holding your chin in place and, without breaking eye contact with him, you guided his hand down until it rested on your throat. “More,” you choked out, giving him an animalistic grin.

  That was all it took. Using his grip on your neck, he pulled you in for another kiss, messy and desperate and swallowing all of your incoherent moans as his fingers moved harder, faster.

  You clung to him like a lifeline as you felt your whole body tense up, your orgasm fast approaching. You were so fucking close and he felt so fucking good and, God, if this is what losing control felt like, then you and Aaron could do this forever and —

  His fingers were gone from you, and you clenched around nothing. You cried out in protest, which only seemed to amuse him.

  “Oh? Prom queen isn’t used to not getting what she wants?” Keeping his hand on your throat and you pinned against the wall, he made slow, teasing work of his belt buckle.

  Your chest rose and fell in a desperate attempt to catch your breath. “What happened to watching me come undone all over you?” you shot, trying to even out your voice as much as possible. It didn’t work very well. “Did you lose your nerve?”

   A dark, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “Don’t worry, Princess, that’s still the plan. I just never said where. I want to make sure you’re nice and wet and ready for me to turn you into a moaning mess on my cock.”

  In an attempt to regain some control of the situation, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah? And how do you expect to do that?”

  He smirked and released your throat. Wordlessly, he grabbed your wrist, and guided your hand down your body, further and further until you reached your throbbing pussy. He used his hands to press your fingers to your clit, and you whimpered softly. God, you were dripping, and the extra stimulation didn’t help your shaking legs.

  “By making you so needy and whiny that by the end of this, you're begging for me,” he hissed, lips brushing the shell of your ear with every word. He moved your fingers so that you were rubbing small, slow circles around your clit, although it wasn’t nearly enough to give any real relief. “Begging for me to come and fuck you over and over and over again. Because you know that your pathetic fiance and your string of affairs have never made you feel like this before.”

  Aaron yanked your hand away from your clit and you could sob. You wanted to cum so badly that you could barely put it into words. Still holding your wrist, Aaron brought your hand up to his face. He took a brief moment to admire the way your fingers glistened, covered in your arousal, before bringing them to his lips and sucking.

  Eyes wide, you made a choked noise as you committed the view of Aaron to memory. “Please, Aaron, fuck, I need you,” you whined, the start of a long string of incoherent begging. You needed him then and there, damn the consequences.

  He pulled your fingers out of his mouth slowly, and you moaned at the obscene wet noise it made. “So desperate,” he murmured as he began to unbutton his slacks. “All for me. All because I edged you once.”

  Aaron pulled down his pants just enough to pull out his dick, and you licked your lips involuntarily when you saw it, big and thick and leaking precum. Clearly, it gave Aaron a bit of an ego boost, because as he ran the head up and down your sensitive folds, he reminded you, “You did say you could take anything, Princess.”

  Your breathing came out shaking as you shivered, waiting for him to do something — anything. You were so empty and you needed him so badly. If you didn’t get his dick in you soon, you were pretty sure you would lose your mind completely.

  “Fuck me, Aaron,” you moaned, arching your back to press into him more.

  He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips in an almost intimate gesture. “Patience is a virtue,” he chastised.

  In your haze of arousal, you barely noticed him grabbing your briefcase and digging through the small pocket in the front. You especially didn’t notice his pause when his finger touched something small, round, and metal in the bottom of the bag. The only thing you cared about was him coming back to you, holding up a condom packet with a smirk.

  “I knew I’d find one somewhere in your briefcase.” You let the comment slide, the excitement at the prospect of sex with Aaron Hotchner outweighing any jackass comment he could make. Aaron made quick work of putting on the condom. The second he was done, one of his hands ran up your thigh, getting a good grip on it before pulling it up and around his waist.

  “Do you feel how wet you are for me? How willing you were to give up control? All for me? That—” Lips pressed to your ear, he pushed his cock into you, bottoming out with one thrust. You threw your head back in pleasure. “—Is playing chess, sweetheart.”

  Aaron dropped his forehead to the crook of your neck as he began pounding into you at a desperate pace. He had held off on his own pleasure for long enough, and now he was chasing his orgasm with a ruthless determination. One hand stayed gripping your thigh, the other one braced against the wall next to your head. Aaron nipped at your neck in between moans of praise for you.

  “I — oh, fuck — knew it,” he groaned, digging his fingers deeper into your thigh. “You wanted somebody to take control. Somebody who knows how to please you.”

  You wrapped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. You were an incoherent mess at this point, his name tumbling from your lips like it was the only thing you knew how to say. At that moment, it probably was. 

  “Finally, that bratty mouth of yours is good for something. You sound so pretty, moaning out my name. Say it again.” A particularly deep thrust caused you to tug at his hair. “Louder.”

  Never before had you met somebody like Aaron Hotchner, and you weren’t sure if you ever would again, so you screwed your eyes shut and let yourself get lost in the absolute pleasure he was providing. You memorized everything you could — the way the calluses on his hands felt against your skin, the way he moaned out your name, how deliciously full you felt, and how for the first time in your life you felt truly seen — so that you could suspend the moment in amber to preserve in the back of your mind.

  “Please,” you begged, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails. “I’m so close. Fuck, Aaron, you feel so good, please.”

  Aaron tore his lips from your throat, choosing instead to press his forehead against yours. His lips brushed yours with every word he spoke, so close that you were practically kissing him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured. “Be a good girl. Be a good girl and come. All over my dick.”

  When you came, it was with a cry of his name as your whole body shuddered. You clung to him as he continued to fuck you. His thrusts began to stutter, and he took the opportunity to capture your lips in one last, scorching kiss, and you were all too happy to oblige.

  You think he moaned something as he came, but you couldn’t hear it over the sounds of skin slapping against skin. He fucked you through his orgasm, making sure that you felt every single inch of him. As if you could ever forget it. 

  The two of you stayed where you were for a few moments, relishing in the feeling of being full a little longer. Your walls fluttered around Aaron, which caused him to muffle his whimpers into your throat.

  “Aaron…” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the moment. “That was so—”

  “I know.”

  “We shouldn’t have done it.”

  “I know.” He pulled back just enough to leave a lingering kiss on your lips, and your whole body burned. “But I don’t regret it. Do you?”

  You shook your head. “Not at all.” The confession lingered in the hair for a tense second because both of you seemed to remember where you were.

  Aaron slowly pulled out of you, an act that looked almost painful for him when you let out an involuntary moan at the feeling. He could have spent all day in you, if given the chance.

  The two of you adjusted yourselves in silence, both of you hoping to be able to leave the room with some semblance of professionalism. At the very least, the goal was to not look like you had just had sex in a courthouse conference room. Shame and embarrassment flooded you — what had you been thinking?

  Once you felt that you were presentable enough, you grabbed your briefcase and tried to ignore Aaron burning a hole in the back of your head with his gaze.

  “Well, Aaron, this was fun.” You cleared your throat. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around at some point.”

  You were two steps away from the door when you heard his smug, courthouse voice come back in full swing.

  “Forgetting something?”

  You turned around in a huff, ready to go right back to arguing with him, but what you saw made your whole body heat up in embarrassment. There was Aaron with a self-satisfied grin and dangling off his finger was your panties.

  “These are cute,” he mused. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to fully appreciate them.”

  You rushed over there, fully prepared to snatch them out of his hand. “And you never will,” you shot, but even as you said it, you didn’t make much of an effort to take them out of his hands. You just stared at him and his swollen lips and mussed hair, all your doing.

  Ever the gentleman, Aaron started to hand your underwear back to you, but instead of taking it back like you knew you should have done, you covered his hand with yours, closing it in a fist around your panties.

  “Who says you can’t?” you whispered, guiding his pantie-filled hand down to his pockets. “This way… You can keep it as collateral. To make sure I’ll come and see you again.”

  His breath hitched in his throat as you guided him to put your panties into his suit pocket, and you were glad to be the one surprising him this time.

  “I don’t care about your fiance,” Aaron started, and you braced yourself for the worse. “But I’m not interested in being the ‘other man’ to your affairs with your assistants, too.”

  “Consider it ended,” you promised, not caring how desperate or easy it made you look. You wanted to keep Aaron around for a long, long time.

  Just until the wedding, you corrected yourself.

  You slung your briefcase over your shoulder, wincing as it dug into a bruise that Aaron had left. It would be there for a while — you’d have to find a way to hide it from Tony until it faded. The thought made you stupidly giddy. “I’ll see you around, Aaron.”

  He nodded in goodbye, and you slipped out of the conference room on shaking legs. As soon as the door closed behind you, you reached into your bag, and reluctantly slipped on your engagement ring.

[dancing-in-a-yellow-dress]

Trapped Little Angel (part 1)

Welcome to the first part of the first fanfic on this account.

Child!reader x the Avengers

Word count: 2900

Trigger warning: Imprisonment, nightmares, non graphic descriptions of violence and injuries, possible trigger for eating disorders

--

You were a 14-year-old orphan living alone in New York, since your family had died in the explosion that gave you your powers. Your powers were similar to Wanda’s (telekinesis and all that jazz). You got them when you were 7, but for whatever reason they hadn’t been active before that day.

It was a basic September day with all of its rain and fog and clouds. You were walking on the street when suddenly you blacked out and your powers exploded out of you destroying property and hurting people everywhere around you. The Avengers were called to action and they evacuated the block and when you’d cooled off a little they took you into custody and to the Avengers tower.

You had passed out and they didn`t really know what to do with you, so they laid you down on the couch and began a debate about the subject.

Tony believed firmly that you were dangerous to the team and the best thing for everyone would be to lock you up isolated and unstimulated to avoid new outbursts until a better option would be available. Steve backed Tony up to an extent, although he did believe the isolation to be unnecessary. Bruce didn’t really voice his opinion on confinement that much, instead focusing on the medical aspect of the situation.

Clint doesn’t really say much during the argument, before Tony raises the possibility of indefinite imprisonment in isolation. That is what finally gets to him, since you are just a kid and remind him of his own daughter. Wanda argues firmly against any form of forced imprisonment. In her opinion you needed medical attention, after which instead of locking you up the team should be focused on helping you control and develop your powers in a beneficial way.

Natasha is uncharacteristically quiet for the whole debate. Something about you had got to her and she found it hard to think of the situation objectively without a massive bias. Peter was on ‘your side’ for sure. To him you were a troubled kid who just happened to need some help. In a way he saw himself in you.

You start to regain consciousness about halfway through the argument. The Avengers are taken back at first, but when you are very confused and scared, Nat and Clint (who are the most ‘neutral’ participants) tell you what happened. When you have gotten the big picture you ask shakily: “How many people did I hurt? What’s the damage?” The others are hesitant to tell you, but Tony is highly pissed at you, so he takes his tablet and shows you some pics of the place where the accident happened. Wanda shoots him a death glare, but he continues and reads the statistics to you: “At this exact moment there are 9 people dead, 27 in critical condition and 56 with milder injuries. All because of your little stunt.” At this point you have pulled your knees to your chest and are struggling to breathe. Steve and Clint look at Tony like he has lost his mind and Nat tries to calm you down. You are repeating the same things over and over again: “I didn’t mean to- It’s all my fault… I don’t know how- What- I didn’t mean to…” Nat was approaching you, her hand reached out ready to stroke your back and pull you into a hug. She says: “We know. Everything will be alright, it’ll be alright. It wasn’t your fault, we’ll sort this out. It’s okay, you’re okay. We don’t blame you, but right now you need to calm down.” You flinch away from her, panic shining in your eyes: “No! Don’t touch me! I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t control it… I don’t understand- I didn’t mean to…” Suddenly you look desperately at Tony “You have to lock me up. I’m dangerous. I can’t be trusted. I have to be put away. Please”, you beg, surprising all of the other people in the room. Peter is about to say something, but Tony cuts him off.

You stand up and Clint shows you the way to a quite big cell. You step in and he shuts the door behind you. You sit on the floor in the corner and pull your knees to your chest. You just blankly stare at the wall. You noticed that there was a camera in corner of the room near the roof as you stepped inside, but you didn’t care. What did it matter. As you stayed on the floor the team was reheating the discussion whilst keeping an eye on the monitor that showed footage from your cell.

Wanda and Peter were shouting at Tony for locking you up in an isolation cell. Natasha and Clint were a bit calmer, but they were backing Wanda and Peter up. At some point Tony says: “You heard the kid. She wanted to be locked up. Even she thought it would be the best option”. And that sets Natasha off: “Yeah, after you had scared the poor thing on the verge of a panic attack. That wasn’t fair play. You drove her to that decision and you know it.” Then Peter fires: “Besides the whole ‘she decided herself’ excuse is bullshit. She’s a kid. SHE’S 14. I’m 17 and you don’t trust me to do anything yet, so how again is she any different?” That shuts Tony up.

In the end the team comes to the conclusion, that they will be monitoring you strictly and willing people will be allowed to go talk to you. All except Peter (just for the first few days) who is infuriated to no end by the decision.

The first person to come talk to you is Wanda. She comes and talks for a while, but you can’t make any sense of what she’s saying. After a while she leaves shutting the door behind her. Steve also comes to question you, and even though this time you understand what he is saying you can’t find the energy to answer him in you. Clint brings you something to eat and drink, but you don’t move a muscle to acknowledge the act. Time sort of looses its meaning to you as you sit on the floor and stare into nothing, alone with your thoughts, the same thoughts over and over and over again.

Nevertheless, you know some time has passed when Natasha comes through the door with another tray filled with food. She places it carefully on her untouched bed and sighs deeply before speaking: “You should really start eating on your own. It’s been two whole days and you haven’t taken a bite. I get that its hard, but you’ve got to try. Otherwise we’ll have no choice but to put a feeding tube down your throat and trust me kid, that does not feel good.” She gives you another look, then turns around and walks out. Slowly you straighten your legs on the floor.

You hadn’t really noticed how much your muscles were hurting for being in the same position for so long before someone pointed it out. You stretched your legs first and then stood up slowly. You went through your body, stretching every muscle one at a time and then sat down beside the bed to eat. You weren’t really hungry, but the threat of getting a feeding tube stuffed down your throat was enough to get you eating.

After you were done with the meal you went back to your corner and sat back down, leaving your legs laying on the floor instead of curling up to a tight bundle. After a few minutes there was a knock at the door and Wanda walked in. She picked the tray up and looked down at you, clearly assessing the situation before finally saying: ”Hey, I was wondering if you needed to use the bathroom.” You didn’t answer her but stood up and stepped timidly few steps forward so that she knew you’d be coming along. She guided you through the hallways and into a bathroom. “There is a towel on the counter and shampoo on a shelf in the shower. Take as long as you need. I’ll pick up some clean clothes for you and bring them here. Okay?” You didn’t say a word but nodded and opened the door to the bathroom. After half an hour you were back in your cell but feeling significantly cleaner and comfier.

Instead of sitting back in the corner on the floor you sat on your bed and crossed your legs. You didn’t know why, but you felt like it, so you started singing, first just humming quietly, then adding the words to the song. It was an old lullaby your mom had sang to you more than once. Some things just had a way of sticking with you.

`Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

nyt kuuluu keijujen äänet

Ne tanssivat taas koko yön laulaen

koko yön laulaen.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

taas syttyy tähtöset pienet

Ne oottavat taas läpi yön loistaen

läpi yön loistaen.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

nyt sammuu keijujen äänet

Ne liitävät taas ylös luo tähtien

ylös luo tähtien`

Then you sang it over again, this time in English

If your quiet, very quiet,

you can hear sound of the fairies

They’re dancing again through the night until day

through the night until day

Very quiet, almost silent

the stars are lighting the sky

they’re waiting again till the night fades away

till the night fades away

If you’re quiet, very quiet

you can hear sound the fairies

they race through the sky so they’ll be near the stars

so they’ll be near the stars

You sang the song a couple times over and finally you got to the last part you had made up on your own. You always ended it there, since you could never continue singing after that.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

ei kuulu keijujen äänet

Ne lähtivät taas minut yksin jättäen

minut yksin jättäen

Even if you’re very quiet

you won’t hear sound of the fairies

they flew up the sky leaving me alone behind

leaving me alone behind.

You broke down sobbing. Clint was sitting at the monitor, and he thought it’d be best not to disturb you, so you were left alone as you start humming another melody your mom taught you.

Joka ilta kun lamppu sammuu ja saapuu oikea yö Niin Nukku-Matti nousee ja ovehen hiljaa lyö On sillä uniset tossut ja niillä se sipsuttaa Se hiipii ovesta sisään ja hyppää kaapin taa

”I didn’t know she was finnish” Nastasha said to clint as she sat next to him with two cups of tea. “Finnish?” Clint asked as they listened to the beautiful melody coming from the lonely cell. Nat was quiet for a while before saying “Yeah. The language is absolutely bizarre.” They sat in silence for another while, until Clint said: “She sounds miserable” “Yeah, but who wouldn’t. I’m guessing she has no family, since no one has come asking for her.”

Ja pieni sateenvarjo on aivan kallellaan Ja sinistä unien kirjaa se kantaa kainalossaan Ja unien sinimaahan se lapset autolla vie Surrur, surrur ja sinne on sininen, uninen tie

Ja siellä on kultainen metsä, ja metsässä kultainen puu Ja unien sinilintu ja linnulla kultainen suu Ja se unien sinilintu se lapsia tuudittaa Se laulaa unisen laulun joka mielen uneen saa

Your mum never taught you that song in English. You had tried translating it, but it always turned out so peculiar you had eventually given up.

When you felt like you had cried enough you stopped with the finnish and started going through songs you had heard somewhere else, altering the lyrics as you went.

You hadn’t sung anything in weeks and now you just couldn’t stop. It felt good. You went over your favorites altering lyrics and making up new verses, not wanting the song to end. As you sang you thought about mum and home. In the outside world they were forbidden things, because they made it hard to focus on surviving. But here she had all the time in the world to think. After hours and hours she finally laid down on the mattress and drifted to sleep

Tony had just started his shift watching you through the monitor and you were having a nightmare. You were curled up in a ball and whimpered and muttered quietly, as tears ran down your face. You dug your nails into your back and started scratching leaving bloody red marks behind. Then you started screaming. The sound echoed through the halls, but Tony didn’t know what to do, so he ended up doing nothing, just staring at the screen paralyzed. It went on for a while, until you finally flinched so violently you woke up.

You were in a state of panic, but as you realized where you were it started to wear off. Little by little you started to feel the pain from the bloody scratch marks on your back and arms. You examined your injuries to the best of your abilities and then looked at the floor while talking sheepishly at the camera in the corner of the room: “If you don’t mind I’d like to have something to wrap these cuts with. I might also need some help with the ones in my back. Its not a big deal, but I don’t want them to get infected.”

The screaming had woken up Natasha and Steve who were now standing behind Tony, looking at the screen over his shoulders. Tony cleared his throat before turning around in his chair and facing the other two. They both had their arms crossed on their chest. Steve looked surprised as hell, but Natasha was quick to recover. She threw Tony an icy stare before saying: “Should we think the imprisonment over again, or is she still too dangerous for you to handle?” Tony raised his hands before saying: “Let’s think that over in the morning, when the whole team is up. Now, would you mind going to help her with the injuries?” Natasha threw Tony another dirty look, before grabbing the first aid kit and heading to your cell.

Nat came, and you laid on the bed on your stomach. She lifted your shirt, poured antiseptic solution on a cloth and warned you: “I’m sorry, but this is gonna hurt like a bitch.” She pressed the cloth gently on your back and you shrug. “It’s not that bad. You get used to pain as a homeless kid. Once I had to remove a bullet from my own shoulder.” There Nat saw an opportunity get little bit more information of you and continued the conversation: “Must be tough. I suppose you don’t have any family left?” “Yeah, mum and dad and Tom died… in an accident” you tensed up visibly. Nat continued unbothered but didn’t bring up the deaths again. “I heard you sing the other day. Didn’t know you were finnish.” “Oh, I’m not. My mom was.” “So, can you speak finnish or what?” “Nah, not anymore anyways. I used to, but I haven’t used it in a long time. Some things just stuck with me, like the songs, or silly pet names mum used to call us.” For some reason you felt really safe with Natasha. Her touch reminded you of home as she worked to clean your wounds and then wrap them with clean gauze. You knew it was silly, but it just felt so good to finally talk to someone, so you kept answering her as she continued asking questions. “Pet names, huh. What did she call you?” “She used to call me Lumikki. It’s the finnish for snow white. It’s cheesy as hell, I know but we lived in a little cottage in the woods, and I was obsessed with Disney.” Natasha smiled at you. “Do you remember anything else about your mum.” “She had the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. She sounded like an angel. Sometimes I hear her in the wind.” You pause for a minute “And she was a dancer. She used to be a ballerina, but then she had us and her career ended. She never quit dancing though. Once in a while she’d put on her slippers and go through some old routine, like she had never stopped. She even taught me some basics.” Natasha was quiet for a moment. Then she cleared her throat and continued: “Did you have any siblings?” “Yeah”, you were quiet for a moment, not rushing to continue “One brother. His name was Tuomas, but we all called him Tom. Three years older than me. He was my best friend.” A tear fell down your cheek. Natasha was almost done with wrapping your back so she asked one more question. “How about your dad” You shrugged. “He was a hunter. Spent most of his time with Tom out in the forest when I stayed in with mum.” Nat packed the medical supplies back to the first aid kit and pulled your shirt down so that it covered your back. Then she helped you sit up and said: “I can’t promise anything yet, but we’re having another meeting with the team about your… condition and I believe you might get out of here.” She saw the unsure look you gave her. “Don’t worry” she said as she took your hand “Everything will be alright. I promise”

--

Sorry, I have absolutely no idea what is going on with the spacing, tried to fix it but it wont budge... Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

[sneverussape]

What kind of person do you think lily was? There's a lot said about her in the series, but i have trouble reconciling pure, shining paragon lily with someone who would marry someone that spent years tormenting her friend, 4 on 1.

ooh boy this will be a LOT. i can't even promise it will be coherent but i'll make an attempt to be. (going under a cut to save us all the grief).

first off, i think it's fair to state that one of the biggest drawbacks of lily's character is how she was written. she is a plot device. she exists to boost other characters’ narratives: she's simultaneously the Rich Boy's trophy wife, the self-sacrificing mother of the Boy Who Lived, the best friend slash lost love of the Fallen Hero, and, at the same time, also no one at all. lily is a character with little to no background and character development that she can barely stand on her own two feet without any of the associated (usually male) characters to prop her up. it absolutely sucks but that's how it is. that's how jk wrote her.

given that and working with the scraps that we do have, my opinion of lily is...complex. i try to give her justice by trying to understand her context, the workings of her mind, and the possible pressures she was subjected to, but it can be challenging especially since lack of canon pushes you into a space where you have to put them in Either/Or situations. my opinion of her has also changed as i got older. when i was younger (i read the books waaaay back, as they were getting released in fact) i only saw her as an extra character (i was most interested in snape, if that's not obvious enough, but neither did i think snape was 'obsessed' with her as a lot of hp fans now think). i saw her and snape as good friends who had had a falling out, and that he'd probably had a crush on her at some point, and it got naturally overtaken by guilt etc when she died. then when i reread some chapters containing her, i was quick to put her in the Bad Friend camp. i don't think that now. i think that she, like snape, was a complex human being who made a lot of questionable decisions but shouldn't be entirely vilified for them.

my main thoughts of her that are kind of built on material from canon as well as what jkr has said herself:

- she was not posh. she grew up in cokeworth, in the same town as severus. i don't think she was middle class as a lot of fics portray her. i think the evanses were slightly better off than the snapes but they were all working-class, and living was a day-to-day struggle. the kids spoke in the local accent, their clothes were all worn and patched over, there were no green spaces or public infrastructure for kids to safely play in, and they were all mostly running wild about the town since all their parents had to work. food was something to be thankful for because there was never enough, and sometimes they had to share with their neighbors. that's the kind of setting i think lily and severus grew up in, although severus suffered abuse on top of it all. it's possible that lily did too because of the setting (post-world war 2, poverty, adults dealing with repressed trauma from the war, etc) and it wouldn't even be that surprising if she had been;

- she and petunia got along fairly well up until the point lily found out she was a witch and, as a result, became friends with severus. it's stated in canon that petunia had also wanted to attend hogwarts with them, going as far as writing to dumbledore to allow her admittance. her jealousy upon his rejection had festered and grown into outright hate that she projected onto harry as an adult, but i don't doubt that she continued to love lily even after her death and despite how she treated harry. i think as kids they had stuck together and were very close, but magic had torn them apart. suddenly lily had a world of her own that petunia wasn't welcome in, and that would have hurt. pottermore stated lily attended vernon and petunia's wedding or engagement party but james made a right mess of it. i think lily TRIED to maintain their relationship but external factors always got in the way. i don't doubt she had also loved her sister very much;

- i don't think she had any other friends. she may have had a lot of acquaintances but i think her only real friend, the one who saw her for who she really was, was severus, and i think, at a certain point in their lives, she saw that as a weakness and resented it;

- i think, from the interactions we saw in canon of lily with other people, that lily had a penchant to please people, especially the ones who ranked higher than her in terms of power dynamics - petunia (who was the older sister), professors (sluggy comes to mind, the head of slytherin with a lot of connections), even the marauders whose actions she defended. it's not necessarily a bad thing, but i've always seen it as her being borderline manipulative. i noted that she wasn't the same with severus (based on their conversations, especially the ones in 5th year, before SWM) because he's lower than her in a lot of aspects, being a slytherin and quite likely of a lower social standing. she could boss him around and tell him to piss off and he probably wouldn't have minded. she actually strikes me as someone who could have been in slytherin; a perfect arrangement, save for the fact that she was a muggleborn. i think lily knew her place and the cards she was dealt with more than anyone, but she was also determined not to stay there;

- this brings me to the point as to why she ever went out with james potter in the first place. i think her friendship breakup with severus was inevitable because they were in the middle of a burgeoning war and both of them were being pulled to opposite and opposing ends. as an added complexity, i think she also wanted to be better than being muggleborn lily evans of cokeworth, best friend of the evil greasy slytherin git, and her way out was to associate with housemates who were in the upper echelons of power. like, we don't even know what her life was like in gryffindor tower. ron was poor, but he was also a pureblood, so that may have saved him from ridicule. but what if you were a poor muggleborn, with a northern accent to boot? in the same way severus trained himself to be more posh, lily could have done the same and could have furiously tried to blend in. maintaining a friendship with severus would have ended in heartbreak as there were too many risks and it likely outweighed the gains. this was the wizarding world too which is much much smaller than the muggle world and relied on connections more than anything. openly siding with the marauders would have saved her skin and secured her a future (which, as we all know, was forfeit anyway but whatever);

- jumping to the jily relationship, i honestly think it was also not one that was meant to last. iirc jkr projected a lot onto lily, so i'm surmising jily reflected a lot of her own failed relationships. i think james and lily had a less-than-ideal relationship, one that involved abuse (verbal, emotional, mental, physical, take your pick, but at least one form of it), and i think she may have been unhappy in the last year of her life, living in hiding with none of her own friends (if they even existed) and seeing no one else but james' pals. her only light in that darkness was likely harry as she couldn't even see her own family. i think, during those times, she thought a lot about the home she left behind and, as a consequence, her lost friendship with severus. she probably missed him, and i'm sure she must have been very lonely.

in sum, i don't think she was the Virgin Mary figure a lot of hp fans paint her to be. imho she had her own questionable but utterly human moments, and i just tried to fill in the blanks as to why she would have acted the way she did. i don't think it was easy to be lily evans at all, and majority of the 21 years of her life was likely a struggle.

[storiesforallfandoms]

kissing strangers ~ pete davidson

word count: 2522

request?: yes!

“Can you do a story where the reader is at New Year's Eve and she wants to kiss someone and she kisses a random man she finds out it's Pete Davidson after?”

description: in which she’s single for the first time in years and decides to kiss the first person she sees at midnight on new year’s eve

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol usage

masterlist (one, two)

Why did I think this would be a good idea? you thought to yourself as you looked around at your fellow partygoers.

Your best friend had convinced you to come to a New Year’s Eve party thrown by someone you didn’t even know. Your boyfriend of five years had broken up with you just a few days before (between Christmas and New Years, perfect timing), and all you wanted to do was lay in bed and cry. Your friend, however, wanted to get you out of the house, even if it was just for one night.

“I’ll be by your side all night,” she had promised. “I won’t leave you alone at all.”

That lasted all of ten minutes.

The moment you walked through the door, the host of the party whisked your friend away. She called over her shoulder that she would come find you soon. That was roughly three hours ago and you were still stood in a corner all by yourself, watching your fellow partygoers having a much better time than you.

There were too many couples sitting or dancing together, grinding or making out. They were all basically one step away from fucking right there in front of everyone. If it wasn’t couples, it was single people attempting to hook up with anything that moved.

Being what felt like the only single person in the room made you regret coming. You found yourself even becoming angry at this thought and wanting to leave. But you were already two drinks deep and you were sure your friend was more than shitfaced at this rate. So, instead of leaving or sitting there and continuing to feel angry, you decided to follow her lead and get completely obliterated.

You down your next two drinks in quick succession, and did a few shots with a group of very drunk people that were in the kitchen when you went for your third. By the time you had gotten halfway through your third drink, you could barley see straight and your stomach was starting to churn.

You went outside for some fresh air, nearly sighing with relief when the cold air hit your face. You hadn’t realized how stuffy it had gotten inside until that moment.

You were leaning on the railing of the balcony, two couples standing on either side of you, already getting started on their midnight kissing. You cringed at the very public displays of affection, but also secretly wished you were still with your ex to do the same thing.

Who breaks up with someone before New Year’s? you thought to yourself. Especially so close after Christmas? The greedy fucker probably only wanted his Christmas gifts then to kick you to the curb.

Your anger started to rise at this, and just in time for someone to announce that there was only 30 seconds left of the year. Everyone raced outside, either onto the balcony where you were or into the yard below, to start the countdown to the new year. As they began to chant from 10, you noticed almost everyone around you had someone for their midnight kiss. Everyone except for you.

A combination of your anger and drunkenness caused you to make a decision you never would’ve made if you were sober.

“Five, four, three, two, one!”

Without thinking, you turned to the person closest to you that wasn’t already attached to another girl, and pulled him in for a kiss as the fireworks lit up the sky around you. Your poor victim seemed shocked at first, going completely tense as your lips met his. The somewhat sober part of your brain was screaming at you for your stupid decision (You don’t even know who this guys is! What if he’s some creeper or he has herpes or something?!), but you were too faded to really care at that point.

His hands found your waist and he pulled you to him, pressing his body as close to yours as he possibly could. Your hands gripped at the soft material of the shirt he was wearing, slipping under for just a moment to feel his warm skin against your cold hands.

Before either of you could go further, though, your stomach lurched and you quickly pulled away from him. You had gotten just a glance of what he looked like before you went running back into the house and to the nearest bathroom.

After hogging the bathroom for upwards of 20 minutes, you finally stopped throwing up and were able to get up from your place beside the toilet. You splashed your face with some cold water and decided your best course of action was to get some water, find your friend, and leave as soon as possible.

The first stage was very easy to fulfil, however the party was so jam packed with people, and the lights were so dim, that it was hard to tell where your friend could’ve gone. You were starting to wonder if maybe she ditched you for the host of the party, or for some guy she had picked up along the way. Neither would’ve surprised you all that much.

You decided to take your water and sit outside the front door to see if she would leave any time soon. If you didn’t see her within the next hour, you decided you’d just walk home on your own.

You were finishing the contents of your cup when someone sat next to you. He was a tall guy, around your age, with messy black hair and brown eyes so deep you felt like you could get lost in them. You almost had to chastise yourself for thinking of him in this way so soon after your heartbreak, but you had to admit that he was a very attractive man.

“I hope my kissing wasn’t that bad that you had to go vomit,” he said.

It took you a moment to realize what he was talking about, and when you did you cringed. “Fuck, that was you?” He nodded, a slight grin on his face. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. That was so wrong of me, I hope I didn’t ruin your night or anything?”

“Again, only the thought that you threw up because you kissed me would have ruined my night,” he responded. “Trust me, I will not complain about a beautiful woman randomly kissing me during a party.”

You blushed at his compliment and looked down at your cup, hoping he wouldn’t see.

“I didn’t throw up because of the kiss,” you assured him. “I just had too much to drink way too quickly and it all caught up to me at once.”

“Sounds like normal New Year’s Eve party behavior.”

You shook your head. “Not for me. I don’t usually drink. I kinda went overboard tonight because...” You trailed off, looking up at your still unknown midnight kiss. “Sorry, you don’t wanna hear this. We don’t even really know each other.”

“Well, we can fix that. I’m Pete, and you are?”

“(Y/N).”

“Nice to properly meet you, (Y/N).” You giggled and shook the hand he offered to you. “Now, tell me, what has you so troubled that you got shitfaced, kissed a stranger, then threw up? And now has you sat out here all by yourself.”

You sighed and looked down at your lap. “My um...my boyfriend of five years broke up with me a few days ago. My friend dragged me to this party to get me out of the house, but she immediately ditched me, and watching all these couples being lovey dovey with one another, or horny drunks trying to hook up, just sort of set me off. I decided to get absolutely drunk, and at midnight I was drunk and angry so...I kissed the nearest single person.”

“Which was me,” Pete finished.

“Which was you,” you confirmed. “At least, I hope you’re single. If you have a girlfriend already I am very sorry.”

Pete chuckled. “Don’t be sorry. I am very much single. I don’t think a girl has even looked at me that way in months. That I know of, anyways.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, happy to know that you hadn’t drunkenly made the moved on a man who was already taken.

“And, if I might add,” Pete continued, “I know that I literally know nothing about you besides your name, but your ex is definitely an idiot. Five years and he decides to end it? Not even put a ring on it? That’s shitty, and stupid. If I were your boyfriend, I’d put a ring on it within a few months.”

You giggled and shook your head. “You don’t mean that. You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t, but I know your kissing is so good that I’d never let it go.”

Your face heated up with blush again. This time, Pete caught it and smiled back at you.

The door opened behind the two of you and you looked over your shoulder, hoping to finally see your friend again. When a group of drunk girls walked out instead, narrowly avoiding kicking the two of you or tripping over you, you sighed and rolled your eyes to yourself.

“I know, drunk girls, right?” Pete joked, thinking your reaction was to the girls who were now walking away.

“That wasn’t meant for them,” you told him. “It was meant for the friend I came here with. I spent who knows how long trying to find her after I threw up so we could go, or at least so I could tell her I’m leaving, but there’s no sign of her anywhere. I’m just annoyed that she ditched me when she told me she wouldn’t.”

“That’s fucked up,” Pete agreed. “Listen, this may be a bit forward since we only just met, and I understand if the answer is no, but I haven’t been drinking tonight. If you want to go home, I can drive you home. Fuck your friend, leave her here to get home on her own. I think you have more than a good enough reason for that.”

While part of your mind was screaming at you to not get into a car with this man that you didn’t know, the other part was reminding you of your stomach, which was still not feeling the best, and the heartbreak that led you to coming to the party and meeting Pete in the first place. You just wanted to be home and, at this rate, you’d take any offer to get home.

“Yes please,” you responded. “That’d be fantastic.”

Pete smiled and stood. He offered you his hand and pulled you to your feet. You stumbled slightly, falling into him. He quickly wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you. You looked down into his eyes and felt your legs turn to jelly (although, that also could’ve been thanks to the alcohol still in your system).

“Can you walk?” Pete teased.

“I can,” you confirmed, pulling from his embrace and slowly walking down the two small stairs. He laughed at your attempt to seem sober and led you to his car.

The minute he turned on the heat, you were blasted with hot air against your face. He quickly reached to turn it off, but you caught his hand before he could. “Leave it on, please. It was way too cold outside for me to just be sat around in jeans and a t-shirt.”

Pete chuckled and agreed.

As he started driving, you rested your head against the window, a weird sensation of the cold glass mixed with the hot air surrounding you. The world outside passed in a blur and you could barley focus on it too much as it was hurting your eyes and your head. You ended up closing your eyes for a while and, before you know it, Pete was waking you up outside of your apartment.

“I’m gonna help you to the door,” he decided. “Just to make sure you don’t pass out or anything on the way there.”

You wanted to protest, but you knew that was a smart idea. You were suddenly feeling very tired and could already feel the effects of the hangover you’d have in the morning.

Pete helped you out of the car and walked you to your door, one hand around your waist as he did so. His touch was warm and you just wanted to stay there forever.

You got to the door and unlocked it. You stepped in and turned to Pete, almost expecting him to be following you inside. Instead, he stayed just outside the door, leaning against the doorframe.

“Well, m’lady, you have made it home safe and sound,” he said. “Make sure you keep an Aspirin by your bedside table for your hangover tomorrow, and drink a lot of water.”

“I will,” you told him. “Thanks again for all of this, Pete. It means a lot to me that you’d drive me home.”

“Anything for my midnight kiss.”

You giggled at this. You both stood in silence for some time. You didn’t want Pete to go. Although you were still feeling an ache in your heart, you could also feel something else for Pete. Something that went beyond two strangers kissing at midnight, or a potential rebound with him. You felt like, once you got to know him, you might have some real feelings for him.

“I feel like it’s my duty to make sure you’re not completely miserable tomorrow when you wake up,” he said suddenly. “So, I hope it’s not too forward if I ask you for your number. Just so I can check on you tomorrow, of course.”

You smiled brightly. “Of course. Give me a second.”

You grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote your number down. As you passed it to him, his smile mirrored your own. He looked down at the number for a long time before looking back up at you.

“This is a real one, right? I’m not gonna call a Chinese place by accident tomorrow?”

You laughed. “Yes, it’s my number. You gotta have some faith in people, Pete.”

He nodded. “You’re right. I do. One last question before I go: do you think we could try that midnight kiss again? You know, without you running away to vomit afterwards.”

“I can’t promise I won’t vomit, but I’d love to try the kiss again.”

Pete smiled and almost immediately took you into his arms. Your lips pressed against his and you could almost hear the fireworks that had been lighting up the sky during your first kiss. Except, this time, there were no actual fireworks. It was just the feeling that came from kissing Pete.

He pulled away from the kiss first, literally having to drag himself away from you. “Goodnight (Y/N).”

“Goodnight Pete.”

You closed and locked the door behind him, watching him walk back to his car and start it before silently celebrating to yourself.

I guess tonight didn’t turn out so bad after all.

[captainimfangirling]

Warning: Spoilers

A-Train

Yup I knew that was the reason he betrayed Supersonic and Starlight. If that’s the writer’s way of making him sympathetic it wont work on me. The only reason he’s going to start caring is because Blue Hawk hurt someone he cared about. Still a selfish man and the only way I can see him redeemed is if he not only quits The Seven but admits what he did to innocent people like Robin.

Homelander

Antony Starr acting skill is crazy especially the crazy face Homelander makes. To be honest I don’t think he’s all that interesting anymore. I really wish we’ll get a deeper episode about him besides him going crazy and might explode but this time Vought wont be there to pick up he pieces. Like a flashback of him (as a child) and Soldier Boy in the 80s. I feel like he’s uninteresting this season and just a parody of Donald Trump. I mean they always hinted it in the others seasons but this is a full blown parody.

Annie

Starlight really shocked me. I didn’t think he would ask Hughie about the weapon after Homelander’s threat. She’s actually a very strong person despite the stress eating and drinking. 

Hughie

I’m not trying to defend Hughie or anything and he is showing toxic masculinity but the only reason he became that way was because of all the crap he’s going through and the people who basically bullied him for being weak. He couldn’t save Robin and now he’s worried about Annie dying. I really wish the writers say something like I can’t lose you like I lost Robin or something like that. He tried to do things the right way but lost all hope when he realized how much Vought is in control. In a way he’s going crazy like Homelander and Butcher. 

Queen Maeve

I saw some people are blaming Butcher for her drinking again but she’s a grown ass woman and can make her own decision. Plus Butcher most likely didn’t know she was sober and he was for a year. I feel like she had sex with Butcher after he basically threatened kill all supes because she hates herself and wants to die. Poor thing.

Butcher

I know many hates Butcher for what he did to M.M. but to be honest I knew that was the plan all along because it makes the most sense. I have a feeling his brother died because he made a decision for him that he regretted. That’s why he let Hughie decide if he wanted to take temp v or not. Butcher betraying M.M. like that was horrible but I get it because it might be the only way to kill Homelander. Plus Buthcer wants to kill all supes so maybe he’ll kill Solider Boy after he kills Homelander?

M.M. 

I know M.M. didn’t mean it but it broke my heart when he said he didn’t care about Kimiko. M.M. picking to go after Soldier Boy over his daughter is sad but it’s understanding because if he stayed Soldier Boy would still occupy his mind and that’s not fair to his daughter. he better watch out because she’s being shaped into what her step father wants her to be. 

Frenchie

Surprised Frenchie actually killed children. I hate that. I wonder what Kimiko will think of him if she ever finds out. I wonder if he’s happy for Kimiko or if he’s worried about her getting killed. Edit: Think I misunderstood and Frenchie didn’t actually kill children.

Kimiko

I’m happy Kimiko is happy but I really wanted her to keep her powers. Maybe he not being a supe anymore might keep her safe from Butcher if he ever does go crazy and kills all supes. 

Soldier Boy

I’m not sure if he actually loved Crimson Countess or if he’s just trying to manipulate her. I can see some parallels of him and Homelander because they think everyone loves them but really people hate them. I really hope we actually see him doing evil horrible things because we’re hearing about it but not really seeing it. 

One last thing

Homelander knows how Butcher smells!!!! Why?

Edit: I forgot to mention how the Russians torturing Soldier Boy reminded me of the animated Homelander going through the same thing as a child. I wish they would show this in the show. 

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Go Go Nekoma! Push it, Push it Nekoma! Coaches Chemisty (pt. 1)

Warnings: Angst, breakups, mention of virginity loss, Swearing

⚠️THIS FIC IS 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI ⚠️

Word count: 6000+ (split into 3 parts)

"I'm really sorry Y/N. I just don't see this going anywhere. We are both leaving for college soon and going to different schools at that" your boyfriend of the past 2 years, Naoi Manabu said as he looked down to the ground kicking the dirt below his feet.

Your eyes watered as you drown out the words he's saying.

"B-but we can make this work. I can come see you on weekends and we can still see each other over holidays and school breaks" you plead trying to save a relationship you know is doomed.

The past weeks had been rough to say the least. Manabu had been growing distant from you. Making excuses and staying later for volleyball practice to avoid walking home with you. To say it hurt would be an understatement. It broke your heart.

"Y/N I'm sorry, I just can't do this" Manabu said as he looked up seeing tears welling in your eyes.

"I love you. Doesn't that mean anything?" You say sternly as tears roll down your cheeks.

"Y/N-" he starts saying as you place your hand in front of his face.

"No. Don't. I gave you everything. I stuck by you through it all! I stayed late to walk with you home from volleyball practice. I came to as many games as I could! I stayed up late helping you study! Fuck I gave you my virginity!" You scream.

The emotions are just too overwhelming.

"Y/N-" Manabu tries to say as you turn.

"No. I'm done. Good luck with your life Naoi" you turn away letting the tears flow as you start to jog away.

Almost on cue the sky opens up and rain pours down on your head. This is just like one of those awful romance novels. The girl gets dumped by the love of her life only for rain to continue to dampen her day. Just fucking fantastic.

This was quite literally the worst day of your life.

*8 years later*

"Y/N darling can you please water the flowers outside. I forgot to have Vee do it this morning" Your boss asks you politely with a smile.

"Of course! Let me just finish this arrangement and I'll get to watering. You can head home if you like Bella. I know your poor husband must be starving waiting for you" you giggle as Bella rolls her eyes.

"Let him die. No good worthless piece of crap. Couldn't even take the garbage out last night like I asked him too" Bella huffed as she walked over to your table.

"Stay single Y/N, trust me getting married is for the birds. Sure you meet some handsome young man and he charms his way into your life but the MINUTE he says 'I do' its all down hill from there" Bella says to you as she sternly shakes her finger.

You can't help but laugh. Bella is in her 70s and has been married to the same man for 50 years. He's really very kind and helpful in the shop when he comes and visits. Sometimes you think Bella expects too much from her husband but she's quick to shut you up.

"If you don't establish dominance Y/N, these men will walk all over you! You are young and beautiful. You don't want any man. And if you do, find one who will worship the ground you walk on. A man who will lay his coat over a pile of manure for you to walk. A man who will put your pleasure before his own" she says as she lectures you for the 10th time this week.

Bella loved you like her own daughter. Her son had moved away years ago and wasn't around much. She often invited you and Vee to have dinner with her and her husband. The dinners were entertaining to say the least. Usually ending with Bella ranting about how naive women now a days are or how shallow men are.

You enjoyed your time with Bella and her husband even if you didn't share the same sentiment as Bella did.

You hadn't been on a date in over a year. Every relationship seemed to go the same way. There was never a connection. You tried hard through college and after to find someone but always managed to come up empty.

After you graduated college, you took a high paying job in Tokyo. While you were more than qualified for the job, it provided you with little pleasure. It wasn't until you stumbled into Bella's flower shop that you found yourself truly happy.

Surrounded by beautiful flowers and arrangements. It was like heaven. You returned to Bellas weekly to get a bouquet. Soon you found yourself becoming friends with Vee and Bella. It wasn't until Bella mentioned needing help that you made the decision to quite your job and start anew. While the jobs pay was much less than you had become accustom too, your lifestyle really didn't change. You sold your suits in exchange for overhauls, shorts and t-shirts. You got accustomed to dirt below your fingers rather than finely manicure nails. Sure it was a big change but you were so much happier.

You're days were long and busy. Often starting early and closing late. You didn't have family close by, and no significant other so you often took extra shifts and offered to help so the other two ladies could enjoy their husband's.

Both ladies knew about your past dating relationships and the "one that got away" as they so ironically referred to it.

You couldn't lie to yourself. You often thought of Naoi Manabu.

What was he doing?

You were sure he had to be married by now. It had been 8 years since you had last seen him.

After you broke up, you avoided the man like the plague. It helped you only had a week before school ended and you graduated. It didn't seem like he was too worked up over your break up. You had spent far too many nights crying over him.

You felt like you had lost the love of your life.

You, in fact, had.

💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐🏐💐

"KENMAAAA" Coach Nekomata screams "stop running from the ball! We've been over this a million times!"

"I'd like to keep my limbs thanks" Kuzome Kenma whispers as he turns back to see Kuroo Tetsuro snickering.

"Kenma you act like you've never blocked a ball in your entire life" Kuroo teases the setter mercerously.

"Well I wouldn't have to if someone had read into the switch" Kenma glares at Kuroo who's smile drops.

"Alright that's enough" Naoi shouts as the boys return to their practice match.

He sits next to Coach Nekomata as he sighs "do you think they will be ready for nationals? We've only got a month before we leave. They've still got a long way to-"

"Naoi have faith. They will be ready. They are strong" Coach Nekomata smiles as he watches the boys continue to practice.

The game ends as the boys begin to pack up the gym.

Yaku Morisuke sighs as he finishes his stretches.

"Yaku what's got you bothered" Kuroo says as he kneels down to the team libero.

"I'm just thinking about Mai. I really like her but how do I even tell her. Confessing isn't really my strong suit" Yaku says as he rubs the back of his head.

"How about chocolates? Or maybe flowers?" Kuroo says with a smug grin "girls love flowers!"

"Tsk like you'd know Mr. Periodic Table" Kenma says non-chalantly as he walks by.

Yamamoto Taketora and Haiba Lev laugh at the rooster headed team captain as he glares at the 2nd year setter

"Are you even sure she likes short guys Yaku?" Lev laughs as the team shakes their head.

Yaku runs up to Lev kicking him straight in his back.

"Dumbass" Yamamoto shakes his head as he puts the remaining volleyballs away.

"Why don't we go check out that flower shop on the way home? What's it called like Bella's or something. It looks pretty nice" Kuroo says as he gestures to Yaku.

"Kai, you coming?" Kuroo says to his fellow third year and co-captain, Kai Nobuyuki.

"Sure I'll tag along" Kai speaks softly with a smile.

"Alright guys good practice! Remember we have practice this Saturday as well in preparation for nationals" Naoi shouts as the boys groan.

"And Kenma no skipping out. I'll have Kuroo drag you here if he has to" Naoi glares at Kenma who shakes rolls his eyes and huffs.

The boys showered and change, preparing to head to the flower shop as they wave their fellow teammates off.

Naoi boards the train heading home to his small apartment. To say things have gone to plan in his life would be an understatement. While he was doing what he loved, his love life was lacking to say the very least. He had tried numerous relationships, only to have them fail because he could never fully commit. He often found himself in a one-sided relationship where his partner would confess their love but he couldn't.

It became draining for the people he was with so he ultimately stayed single. He knew, in fact, what the problem was. The problem was that he had messed up the only relationship that mattered to him. He'd blown his chances with the only person whom he ever truly loved.

He had blown his chance with you.

When he decided to break up with you, he really thought it was for the best. He knew you had a bright future ahead of you and he couldn't help but feel like he was weighing you down. He thought it would be best to let go before it became impossible. Not that it wasn't hard to do. It broke him.

He found himself unable to date for years. You had been his first everything and you had been it. He eventually forced himself to move on. Having one night stands and short term relationships but never more. Commitment was hard when it wasn't you. He still kept the ring he had wanted to give you for your third anniversary.

Unfortunately he never got the chance to after he inevitably broke you heart. He often found himself staring at it, wondering how life would have been if he had in fact stayed with you.

By now you must be married with babies he thought to himself. It hurt to think about but he knew it would never be. You'd never be his. And he'd never be truly happy.

[leamy-world]

Reaction to The Devil Judge (spoilers for ep. 9 & 10)

It’s been a while since i’ve last been on tumblr, but i got invested in this drama every week & the fandom’s analyses to not talk about it sometime! (Last time i was hooked, it was with Beyond Evil and i watched it by the time the finale already aired so i didn’t suffer from the weekly wait!)

So here i am, this is mainly self-indulgent with essay-long interpretations of some scenes in a totally random order, but i’d love to interact with whoever reads this if they want to react!

I’m sorry for the potential awkward phrasings, english is not my first language!

- The recap was nicely done and tied everything together, it made me realize so many things happened since the beginning! The repetition didn’t make me skip it, the narration was dynamic & fun.

- The ‘power display’ & threat Yohan showed to Soohyun (by lashing out at Juk Chang and strangling him, as proxy for Soohyun, in front of her while staring at her) were something …! She answered in the same fashion, passing by him saying she will ‘arrest Juk Chang’. I wonder how their next encounters will unfold.

- Many people already pointed this out, but Soohyun’s decision to leave Elijah, a minor, alone in her car (with its doors open, daring to tell her to stay there when she has no other choice anyway) + stop the gang alone and unannounced off duty was irresponsible. Anyways, i wonder if she will interact again with Elijah because they were adorable, i would miss it!

- The conversation between Soohyun & Gaon at his apartment (ep. 10) was interesting on both parts: 

It sounded casual, but Soohyun wanted to see where he stood in the Kang family and make sure he wasn’t in Yohan’s plans (i hope she didn’t seriously mean the ‘weird’ comment about Elijah, it’d be sad since Elijah enjoyed her company!).

Gaon was anxious professor Min told her about their last conversation (i think she’ll talk to him in the next eps). He also indirectly defended the Kangs by associating himself with them (« I’m pretty sure i’m just as weird ») and voiced his concern about Yohan, speaking more to himself than following the conversation at hand. 

When Soohyun changed the subject with the ‘i’m jealous’ bit, maybe it was to brighten the mood with a light-hearted comment, hoping Gaon would follow. And by the look of her pause right after, it seemed she was also expecting GO’s ‘positive’ reaction to her jealousy, giving in to the kind of teasing/flirt they have in their friendship. But deep down, it was also to voice her true unease about Gaon’s involvement with Yohan she had since the beginning and ep. 8. 

It’s obvious to us she meant she was jealous of Yohan. And GO could’ve understood it this way too, since she confessed to him multiple times and her feelings must be known to him (i think he takes it as a ‘joke’ given how many times she confessed and each time when he was crying, so maybe he thought, very reasonably, it was to cheer him up? I also guess he’s too absorbed by his current worries about the Kangs and her potential suspicion, to notice her attempts). 

But instead of that, he’s not in the same line of thoughts at all and picks up on the « rich », musing on what makes one’s existence rich, thinking Soohyun was envying Yohan’s position and life and proving her he’s indeed in a whole different world, empathizing with Yohan. 

She then looked like her face fell, until her eyes lit up again when he was about to admit she was precious to him along with his family.

By the way, this scene picks up right where we were left off in ep. 8, when Gaon tends to his plants:

« - Are you back for good? - Not really. They need some looking after. - You should come back, not drop by. This is where you live. - Someone there needs some taking care of too. - Take care of your own self, please. - What about me? I’m living a shamelessly comfortable life. Soohyun. - Yes? - What are you thinking about? - Nothing. By the way, Gaon … » (i wonder what she was going to say!)

Lost in thoughts, Gaon’s mixed emotions when he said Yohan was not rich (« he’s not rich. If you get to know him, Kang Yohan is really poor. ») were very well depicted by Jinyoung’s acting: the soft voice and the ghost of a smile that convey understanding and endearment, leaning on his counter in a relaxed stance, but also at the same time the stare lost in the space, maybe to all the memories tied to the Kangs and Yohan, and the tension in his left lip corner by the end of his sentence which betray his sadness and empathy with Yohan’s life. After this, when he became aware of Soohyun’s gaze, it’s like his bubble popped. He looked surprised with his eyes widening, and was fidgeting a little, then changed the subject to himself.

And « I have you, Soohyun » sounded truly grateful but also sad and conflicted, GO lets his worries show when she’s gone, maybe wondering if they would be bound to be against each other one day as he continues to side with Yohan, menacing to jeopardize their friendship to the point of no return. In these kinds of stories you expect these kinds of twists, but i grew fond of the cast send help

- I loved how Yohan’s confession to GO about his brother was filmed: the camera faced head-on his pain, slipping unbeknownst to him through the façade he always showed to protect himself. But this time, despite his (late) attempts to dismiss these feelings both for him and Gaon to regain composure (the hand gestures to hide his tears, pretending to be tough with the  « there’s no such things as innocent people », drinking away his sorrow with a bitter laugh that rings hollow), all this façade fades out in front of Gaon literally by being blurred out in the shot, as if he clearly sees his pain through (his silhouette appearing clear-cut between Yohan’s gestures). I know it’s a pretty classic shot but it fit well with this scene. He clenches his jaw in the next shot, moved by Yohan opening up. 

- The dinner scene was really moving …! Especially when you put the colder tones the kitchen had when we first saw Yohan have dinner by himself next to this scene, full of light in contrast! I wonder when the OST playing will be released, it was so beautiful and reminded me of My Mister’s OST (especially Rainbow!). I look forward to the lyrics, because most of the time the OST gives more layers & depth to the story and the characters! (please don’t let it be about Yohan’s budding feeling of a true ‘home’ ;;) I didn’t realize it upon my first watch, but Gaon really took the cutlery hostage, it cracked me up!

- The parallels in this show will be the end of me: Yohan went from the « i’m so sick of this place » (ep. 5) to asking K to drive him « home » with a delighted smile. 

- I liked the parallel of Yohan’s reaction to GO/Sun-Ah sitting in his office chair, impeding on his space (he reminds SA to stay out of it, the first time politely, the second time almost grimacing, his jaw clenched: « Just because you’re the head of the OSC doesn’t mean you can barge in like this (…) So please stop barging in like this. », while he says nothing to GO)

- At the beginning of ep. 10, we have Yohan saying he doesn’t like «  hanging out with people » & by the end of it, Soohyun saying « My childhood’s best friend is hanging out with a rich guy ».

- These two episodes gave more insight and nuance into Sun-Ah’s character, which was very nice ; and also Cha Kyung-Hee’s comeback (and her last confrontation with Sun-Ah!!!!)

- The people following Juk Chang also targeted sexual minorities according to the subs i had, i wonder if it will be addressed again sometime in the drama. 

- I loved Elijah’s « hacking » technique scene, i felt proud too! I always look forward to her scenes (and Kkomi’s too haha)! And her reaching out Gaon’s shoulder for the first time ;;

- The ‘humans lose their minds when they think they’ve lost what they have’ ……… repeated twice by YH ………… It will hit hard and all those lines will come right back at us viewers, but i’m not prepared haha! And also for the ‘if you want revenge, don’t hesitate’, i hope it doesn’t foreshadow a future revenge Gaon will execute without hesitation aaaaaa

Also, what lawyer Ko said about himself in ep. 8 may apply to Yohan’s case by the end, will he atone for what he did someday? (« I’m no longer a lawyer. I’m just a criminal. When all this comes to an end, I’ll pay for what i did. »)

- I really loved Yohan’s efforts to take into consideration both Elijah’s (he refrained himself from acting rashly like the last time she went out and listened to her) and Gaon’s feelings (stopping him from endangering himself recklessly, not forcing him onto the revenge path lest he’d regret it afterwards, and helping him to face the truth rationally). 

- « She’s hungry for affection. No matter how much you hate the world and the people in it, you can never live alone. You always need someone to rely on. As long as you’re a human being. » Many people commented on it, Gaon must speak from his own experience and empathizes with both Elijah and Yohan’s situation. These two episodes showed how Gaon cares for the Kangs more openly, and i live for it! 

- Give me that domestic scene where Gaon plays cards with YH, the nanny and Elijah! And also more K and lawyer Ko scenes!

- Jinjoo’s and Gaon’s intervention in the trial were gold! And Satie’s Gnossiennes rearrangement playing in the background during Juk Chang’s speech, it’s the cherry on the cake haha

- By the way, there was also an arrangement of Rachmaninoff’s piano concerto no. 2 during the first charity event Yohan went with Jinjoo in the earlier episodes, it was also beautiful!

- GO’s Awkward Smile. I have no words, it is now forever imprinted on my mind.

Have a nice week and take care!