#so that’ll happen eventually

[ricky-mortis]

So uh…. That pose, huh?

[theladysunami]

I had a very odd dream where a train (or bus?) I was on got yanked into another world. While my dream had nothing to do with SVSSS, it did have my waking self thinking about how hilarious and/or horrifying such a thing could be as an AU.

Imagine Shen Yuan riding the subway, train or bus one day, when something happens and his whole car gets yanked into the world of PIDW. Nobody else in the car knows anything about PIDW, so Shen Yuan finds himself with the self imposed task of keeping this eccentric group of strangers alive in a weird world full of demons, monsters, and aphrodisiac plants.

The group’s first assumption would probably be that they’re still on modern earth, and just got teleported somewhere. Their second assumption, if they come across common folk, might be they somehow ended up in the past.

Then they run into some monster, or people riding on swords with specific uniforms, or a commoner mentions a name or event only Shen Yuan recognizes. The rest of the party debates what sort of Xianxia or Wuxia world they’ve ended up in, while poor Shen Yuan sweats bullets. He knows exactly what world they are in, and they are so screwed.

I have this image of poor beleaguered nerd Shen Yuan successfully protecting and leading this group of primary school kids, their cute teacher, and a handful of grannies and grandpas, while all the other adults and older teens keep wandering off and getting themselves in trouble.

[liibation]

Desperately need to draw akutagawa more

[scribescrawls]

Tarnma AU where Pharma wakes up in the past pre-Cybertronian Civil War right after he dies and still reeling from everything that happened decides he’s going to go kill Tarn before he becomes a problem. Pharma isn’t in the best mindset at the moment understandably and is kind of running on the fumes of a revenge fantasy. Meanwhile poor Damus is just going about his day when he gets knocked out and kidnapped. At first he thinks the Senate has finally come after him (this is before he got empurata’ed). However, this seems not to be the case as his kidnapper, a pretty jet who appears to be a medic according to markings on his wings, is going on about things he’d never done, ranting about things that don’t make sense, and talking about how Damus apparently ruined his life. Pharma doesn’t care about keeping the future stuff a secret cause he’s in the ‘I’m going to kill him anyway so it doesn’t matter if he knows’ mindset.

Meanwhile Damus is like ‘you’ve clearly got the wrong bot, I’ve never done any of that! I don’t even know you!’ But Pharma just goes ‘but you will and I’m not going to let you live to do it a second time.’ Pharma proceeding to monologue all the horrible creative torture methods he plans to put him through before killing him.

Damus is thinking ‘oh this bot is delusional for real’ and is both confused and terrified.

Except Pharma never gets to enact any of it because he has terrible luck and two armed bots break into the abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere that Pharma had taken them to. At first Damus has a small inkling of hope that someone miraculously realized he was kidnapped and is there to save him. Hope plummets into the ground when the two armed bots declare that they are from the Senate and they are here to capture him and take him to get empurata'ed.

The two bots give Pharma a confused look not expecting anyone else to be there, but they're like 'they said no witnesses so kill him too or we can take them both in and they can both go through empurata and we'll just say he was aiding a fugitive'. Pharma is like 'frag no. I'm not dying or having my hands stolen from me a second time!" A fight breaks out and Damus watches Pharma pull out an honest to Primus chainsaw from his arm. It’s kind of sexy and scary at the same time.

Pharma got some mods put into his arm because even if he was going after a version of Tarn who had not become Tarn yet he wasn’t going to take any chances. He’d rather be well armed and over prepared than lacking weaponry when he needs it. He also remembers some of the schematics from his time on Luna 1 and look the chainsaw was kind of useful. Anyway although he was never the best fighter in the Autobots there was probably at least some training he had to go through and all the other stuff that happened in the last timeline. He’s no wrecker, but you pick up a few things after four million years of war. Plus it seems like the Senate didn’t think Damus was too big of a physical threat so had not sent their best. Pharma is holding his own pretty well in the fight considering it’s a two versus one fight. Pharma manages to cut one guy in half killing him before being slammed into the wall by the other one. Pharma transforms one hand and uses one of the syringes that’s filled with a knockout serum to inject the other with it. However, it’s not an instantaneous effect so Pharma is still grappling with the assailant who’s got one of Pharma’s arms pinned to the wall and is trying to push Pharma’s own chainsaw arm toward Pharma’s head.

Pharma to Damus: A little help here would be nice!

Damus: What am I supposed to do?! You tied me to a chair!

Pharma: Use your voice and take this guy out!

Damus: My voice??

Pharma: Yes your voice! Your outlier ability! Kill him before he kills us!

Damus: I don't know how to do that! That's not how my ability works at all! I told you, you have the wrong bot!

Thankfully the drug he’d injected into the other seems to take effect as the bot’s hold grows looser as they try to blink away the dizziness that’s taking hold. Pharma uses the loosening grip to push his arm forward cutting off the assailant’s head.

Pharma is venting hard and taking in any injuries. Most seem to be superficial or minor things that he can repair on his own thankfully.

Pharma, complaining: Of course, I have to do everything around here as usual! Why did I think for one moment you'd be helpful!

Pharma thinking out loud: How did they even find us? We're in the middle of nowhere. Though they seemed surprised I was here so they were clearly tracking you down.

Damus, seeing Pharma appraoch him: What are you doing?

Pharma: Scanning you for any potential tracking devices. I was right you're bugged. It's inside your plating I'll have to surgically cut it out.

Damus: What?! You'll do no such thing!

Pharma: Relax I'm a professional. I'll even put on a dampener so it won't be painful not that you deserve it.

Relax?! How was Damus supposed to relax when the kidnapper who says he wants to kill him says he's going to perform surgery on him. Was he even a real medic?!

Pharma gets tired of Damus' squirming and injects him with something that essentially paralyzes him. Just because Pharma doesn’t like him doesn’t mean he’s going to be accused of subpar work.

Pharma, pulling out the tracking chip and destroying it before skillfully welding everything back good as new: Got it! You can stop crying now I'm already done.

Damus hadn’t noticed he had started crying, but could anyone blame him? He was having one of the worst days of his life. He didn’t even get to listen to the music record he just bought! Which shouldn’t be a priority at all but his life is in shambles and he can’t get the thought out of his head that things will never go back to normal now.

Damus watching with wide optics as Pharma approaches both dead bodies pulling out their brain modules after cutting them open and smashing both brains beyond repair.

Damus: What are you doing?

Pharma: Getting rid of the evidence. If the Senate sent them no doubt they have mnemosurgeons under their employ. Although a dead brain is much harder to extract memories from, it’s still possible to pull information from it if it’s intact. This will make it harder for them to determine what happened here and also hide my involvement.

Damus internally is freaking out cause this bot has obviously killed people before and is even being methodical about covering his tracks.

Pharma: We need to get out of here now.

Damus: I’m not going anywhere with you!

Pharma dryly: Oh would you rather stay here and have the Senate find you? I’m sure the empurata will be lovely.

Well no Damus didn’t want to stay here, but he also didn’t want to go with the delusional jet either.

Pharma: Look I’m not giving you a choice. If they capture you and a mnemosurgeon takes a look in your memory they’ll know I was involved. You’ll be safer from the Senate with me. I’m not going to let them kill you, only I’m allowed to do that.

Seeing as Damus is in no condition to walk since the drug Pharma injected him with still hasn't worn off yet and they can't stay here or the Senate will find them, Pharma lifts him into his arms and carries him princess style to the ship he had bought and hidden away. It's actually a lot easier since Damus is not a huge tank and is shorter and smaller than Pharma in this form.

Damus, internally: Kidnapping and death threats aside, it feels kind of nice to be held.

Damus pls that is not a normal reaction to being kidnapped lol

Pharma basically bought a ship, stocked it with any necessary supplies from food to medical equipment withdrew all his savings and planned to book it off Cybertron before the civil war kicks off. He has no intention of joining the Autobots again considering his bad experiences and he’s also not planning to join the Decepticons. He’s planning to fly off to a remote corner of the world away from the impending war where he can maybe do odd jobs as a medic here and there while doing personal research. He hadn’t planned to leave this early, but technically everything is all stocked and ready to go. There’s one extra passenger, but he has time to kill him later. It’ll be fine.

Except as time passes and Pharma has more time to cool down, Pharma is conflicted about going through with the torture/murder thing because hurting/scaring a bot who clearly remembers none of the stuff that happened isn’t giving him the revenge satisfaction he imagined in his head. He starts pulling the Dread Pirate Robert’s thing similar to the Princess Bride where as they travel together he keeps telling Damus ‘goodnight, I’ll most likely kill you in the morning’, but never does. Rinse and repeat for the next how many years lol.

I think Damus did try a few escape attempts early on and I like to think one of the times he runs into people sent by the Senate to kill him and almost died but gets saved by Pharma who’s kind of grown a bit fond of him and is scolding him for getting hurt/into trouble as he carefully repairs any injuries. And okay yes he’s technically a hostage/prisoner but also no one’s ever really cared about Damus nor shown him so much protectiveness and attention before and it’s a heady thing. He likes the feeling and he wants more of it. And it’s not like he’s really suffering much with Pharma truth be told. He’s never hungry and always has access to food, he has his own room and berth on the ship by now, and once he promises not to try to run off he has more freedom to wander the ship and planets they visit where Pharma sometimes works as a medic. As more time passes they’ve grown closer. They have movie nights and listen to music together sometimes. Damus helps out Pharma as an assistant with his job here and there. He sometimes does inventory or helps move things around either in the temporary clinics they set up on different planets or on the ship. When Pharma is busy with his personal research or working, Damus spends his free time practicing his singing or playing his slowly growing collection of musical instruments most of which were bought for him by Pharma. He also gets better at controlling his outlier ability. He does in fact learn to use his voice to expand the range of his abilities. It had become useful whenever they ran into any unsavory or hostile people and Damus liked being able to use it to protect Pharma the way the other had protected him. Damus isn’t sure if he believes Pharma about the being from the future thing, but sometimes Pharma did know things he really shouldn’t know.

And then Pharma having grown to care about Damus has an attack of conscience and drops the “you can leave now. The Senate has definitely fallen by now and you should be safe to go wherever you want. Though I implore you to heed my warning of avoiding joining either side of our planet’s war. There’s enough money saved up. You can take half of it and it should be enough to start a new and comfortable life somewhere else. But I won’t keep you here with me any longer.” Pharma’s internally like ‘it’s not right to keep him here when technically he hasn’t done anything wrong. I should give him his life back instead of dragging him around the outskirts of the universe with me.’

Meanwhile Damus is like: You abandon Damus? You abandon him like he is scrap? Jail! Jail for Pharma for a thousand years!

Anyway they have an argument. Pharma is like ‘isn’t this what you wanted? You’re no longer a prisoner/hostage you can finally be free to go where you want! Why are you making things more difficult than it needs to be?!’ Because the truth is that Pharma doesn’t want him to go, but the guilt is slowly getting to him.

Meanwhile, Damus is blindsided by Pharma’s sudden announcement. Things had been going well between them. In fact it was going great. He doesn’t understand why Pharma is suddenly pushing him away. Damus is in disbelief going ‘I’m the one making things difficult?!’

Pharma: Why do you even want to stay?

Damus probably drops the ‘I’m in love with you!’ bombshell and Pharma is like ‘you just think you love me but you’re just confused. Me holding you prisoner for so long has messed with your head. Once you leave and meet other people, you’ll realize that.”

Damus just scoffs and is like ‘let’s be honest, I stopped being your prisoner years ago. If I had really wanted to escape I’ve had hundreds of opportunities to do it. Pharma you’re so beautiful and smart. You know so much and you’re right a lot of the time, but when it comes to what I feel you’re wrong. And yes as rare as it is you are sometimes wrong my dear Doctor.’

Damus is like ‘As for why I want to stay? How is it not obvious? I’ve never been happier in my entire life than I have been being by your side! I’ve never felt like I belonged somewhere until then! I have met other people before I met you! And you know what, most of them sucked! You said I can go anywhere I want now, well I want to stay right here with you!’

Damus: If you’re worried I’ll do those things the past me or I suppose future version of me did to you, I won’t! I promise and swear on my spark I won’t!

Pharma: It’s not that. I know you’re different even if some things are also similar or the same. I just want you to have the freedom to choose the life you want

Damus: Okay then I’m free. And I choose to stay here with you. I love you.

Damus, now a bit unsure: Do you not feel the same way?

Pharma: I do. Feel the same way.

Damus, whose been dreaming about this day for Primus knows how long and never been great at waiting: Then stop being an idiot and kiss me already!

Pharma going ‘I’m not an idiot!’ but proceeds to grab Damus and kisses him. They spend the rest of the day smooching, become conjunxes, and live happily ever after.

[bixy]

people always get really weird when they find out I don’t have any tattoos and always tell me they want to get matching ones or whatever but like, what people don’t get is that I might go back to Japan at some point in my life, and go back to teaching English or something and existing in Japan with tattoos is too much of a pain in the ass (and like before anyone says anything it’s different if you’re like obviously a foreigner vs if you’re Japanese or mixed lmao), but also if I had the money to burn, I’d have my breast reduction by now, or my car paid off but people always get so pushy like can’t you respect my decisions on my own body, hello??

also tattoos are something I used to want so badly and I’d like hyper focus on them but also I feel like I’d just end up staring at them and picking apart the imperfections in my brain, and they’re just so… permanent, like piercings you can always get rid of whenever and it’s not a big deal but you can never really undo a tattoo (sure there’s laser removal but you can still see hints of what used to be there), and like the type of art I like and appreciate changes so drastically every few years, I don’t know, I’m too indecisive for something like this

[magicicephoenix]

someone just sent this to my ask blog and i have to emphasize how i have not updated for THREE. MONTHS. Bendy has been missing for THREE MONTHS this is the most hilarious way of reminding me of this. laughing on the floor in tears. “hey audrey, it’s been a while” YEAH IT SURE HAS

[black--sun]

Ichigo frowns. “Why.” That’s what needs clarified. But then, he’s also not sure he wants to know. “No, don’t tell me. You can’t take it back now anyway.” Just in case that’s a thing. Though, actually, Shiro could take it back. He doesn’t like thinking of it that way though.

He scans stores as Shiro slows, eyes flashing between buildings. As for the idea of throwing up, he waves it off. Obviously, he’s not about to— well, maybe not obviously if Shiro’s asking. Shiro says that like he’s a sympathetic puker though, and Ichigo files that information away just in case. But anyway, he sees what he’s looking for before the car’s fully stopped, and he opens the door to bolt toward the shop he wants with a, “Wait for me a sec.”

He damn near gets slammed into the door when Shiro stops the rest of the way a hell of a lot faster than he’s expecting, but he’s on a mission, so he doesn’t spare it any attention.

He darts through two people headed opposite directions in the door, and does a quick scan of the layout to find his way. He snags the first toothbrush he sees and scans it through the checkout, not even bothering with his change and receipt before heading back out the door to make sure Shiro’s still there.

He has no real idea of what to expect after he says what he does. He just bluntly offered up the truth like he’s want to do and only after he says it does he realize they might be making poorly worded, subtle, but maybe really important commitments. He’s reminded that he was supposed to trying to avoid Ichigo, put some distance between them because he was becoming way too attached, but it’s a brief thought. He doesn’t want that. He didn’t want it the other day either and it didn’t work.

He glances over again when Ichigo says he doesn’t understand, slowing to a rolling stop before making a turn. “Uh. Ok.” They may not be talking as plainly as they could, but Ichigo’s the one that worded it that way first; surely he should understand what Shiro’s saying. “What needs clarified?”

Except all of a sudden Ichigo’s looking like he might pass out. “What?” He doesn’t need it repeated, he heard just fine. His attention darts back and forth from the road, to Ichigo, and back again. His fingers tighten on the wheel while he tries to figure out what the hell’s happening. Is this a panic attack? Is it breakfast? Epilepsy? -Wait, no, that’s seizures. Something he said?

He down shifts, slowing, when Ichigo unbuckles and leans forward. “You ok…? You need-” Ichigo’s telling him to pull over and Shiro’s eyes widen. Shit. “Fuck- Don’t you- Are you seriously about to puke in my fuckin’ car?!” He pulls the car over as far as the road allows for as quick as he can manage without hitting the curb. There’s a stressed pitch to his rising tone, “I don’t do puke, we already talked about this. You better aim that shit outside.”

He throws the e-break but he has no idea what to do. Is he supposed to get out? He twists in his seat, half reaches for Ichigo, but hesitates. He really doesn’t know what to do, which is weirdly new for him. He’s usually good at rolling with whatever’s happening and figuring it out.

[mggslover]

Stuck

In which reader finds herself stuck in an elevator with her colleagues.

Pairing: Hotch x Reid x Morgan x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: fingering, oral (f and m receiving), face riding, p in v sex, overstimulation, masturbation, breast play Word count: 5,4k A/n: I'm ovulating, so you know what time it is 🤭 I'm really nervous to post this, so I hope you will enjoy!

“Oh, you guys are such babies!” You laugh as Spencer and Derek refuse to step into the elevator, explaining how they’ve been stuck in one before. 

“It’s not funny, Y/N,” Spencer chimes in. “There are six elevator deaths per year. Not to mention ten thousand injuries that require hospitalization.”   

You roll your eyes at his comment, just as Hotch walks toward the elevator. “See!” You exclaim. “Hotch is joining us, and he saved you last time. We’ll be fine.” You add cheerfully.

“You’re coming?” Hotch asks, holding the elevator door open. You nod, pulling Morgan and Reid with you by their arms. 

You chuckle at their nervous reflections in the mirror as the elevator starts moving. A sudden creak causes Derek to snap his head towards you. “It made the same sound the last time!” You were just about to shut Derek up as the elevator shakes and the lights start flickering. 

“Not again!” Spencer whimpers, his eyes squeezed shut like he’s about to fall to his death at any given moment.

Hotch inspects the tight space, his expression grim. “It seems like the electricity went out…” 

“Actually, there are a lot of reasons why an elevator might stop,” Spencer interjects. “It could be worn-out suspension ropes, and it actually happens quite regularly that the motor overheats the safety sensors of the-“ 

“Let’s just solve this problem, shall we?” You cut him off, nudging Morgan out of the way to hit the red button on the panel. 

“You think that’ll do something?” Morgan asks, brow lifted. 

“It will alert someone that we’re stuck. We have to wait until somebody comes and gets us out of here.” Hotch adds. 

“Well at least I’ll be missing my meeting with Strauss,” I sigh in relief. 

“It was at twelve, right?” Spencer asks. 

“Yeah,” you respond with a nod.

“Statistically the average wait time to be rescued from an elevator is less than an hour,” Spencer continues, checking his watch. “That means you could still make it in time.” 

“Now that’s just what I wanted to hear,” you say sarcastically, earning a grin from Morgan. 

“We can only hope we won’t be in here for that long,” Hotch mutters, his impatience visible as he leans uncomfortably against the elevator doors. 

“Okay… so now what? Want to go over a case to pass the time?” 

“No, no cases please,” Morgan groans. “We’ve had three in a row. I’m done.” 

“Morgan is right. We’ve done enough cases in the past few days.” Hotch agrees. 

You mutter an “alright” as you sit down with your back against the elevator wall, smoothing out the crinkles in your skirt. The others look at you with uncertainty. Eventually Reid decides to sit next to you, exchanging a soft smile. Morgan follows suit, sitting in front of you. Hotch remains standing. You leave him be and turn to Spencer. 

“So Reid, I’m sure you’ve got enough interesting facts to pass the time.” 

Spencer looks surprised by the request, not used to directly being asked to share his facts, but his eyes quickly brighten, eager to share. “Well, actually, there are a lot of interesting things to say about elevators. There are approximately 20 million elevators worldwide,” you chuckle at his obvious enthusiasm. “The first elevator was created in 236 B.C. by Archimedes, a Greek mathematician. He used a water wheel and tied animals together with rope to create a lift mechanism.” You hum in interest. “They used lifts in the Colosseum, right?” 

“Yes! Exactly!” he responds excitedly. “The system was powered by eight men who would turn this massive wooden shaft connected to ropes. It could hold more than 600 pounds!” 

“Oh come on,” Derek says, his hand falling to his knee. “You’re telling me you’re actually interested in the mechanics of ancient elevators?”. 

Hotch glances at Morgan, silently agreeing with Derek’s skepticism. 

“Derek Morgan…” you feign offense, placing a hand on your chest. “Don’t act like I’m not curious about knowledge. At least Spence’s got something interesting to say.” 

Spencer blushes faintly, appreciating your defense. 

“Hey, I know facts too,” Morgan says smugly. “How about there being 7000 languages in the world today.” 

“The overall number is actually closer to 8000,” Spencer corrects him. “You only counted verbal communication.” 

“You guys are going to have a facts competition now?” You ask, bewildered. “It’s way too hot in here. I need some light conversation.”

“I agree,” Hotch mutters. “It is getting a little warm.”

You glance up at the AC in the corner of the elevator, which is clearly not working. It probably shut down along with the power. There’s a brief silence before Reid speaks up again. 

“I never thought I’d be trapped in an elevator with my colleagues,” he muses. “It’s a little cliché.”

“Cliche, how?” Hotch asks, intrigued despite himself. 

“You know how, in movies, a group of people get stuck in an elevator and they have to learn to overcome their differences to escape?” 

You shake your head in confusion, “I think I only know the dirty movies where they get stuck in an elevator,” you laugh. 

Spencer blinks at you, clearly thrown off. Derek chuckles at the scene, and even Hotch manages a faint smile. 

“I should’ve known you’ve only watched the dirty ones,” Derek teases. 

“What about you, pretty boy?  Ever seen a dirty movie?” He asks Spencer, grinning. 

Reid looks flustered. “I grew up in Vegas… I’ve seen some things.” 

“Ah, Vegas,” you say, sighing dreamily. “The place where you can’t drive for a minute without seeing a giant porn billboard.”

Morgan grins, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “Sounds like my kind of place.” 

You laugh and kick his leg playfully. Morgan winks at you, enjoying the lighthearted banter. You glance up at Hotch, who is still the only one standing. 

“What about you, Hotch? What’s your favorite dirty movie?” You ask with a mischievous grin, but your expression quickly drops when you see his stern look. 

“Watch it, Y/L/N.” Hotch warns.

“Come on, Hotch,” Derek says. “Let loose a little!”

“See it as the universe’s sign.” I press on. 

“How is being stuck in here a sign of the universe?” Hotch asks, brows raised.

“Well, no way would you willingly take a break yourself. Now the universe got you stuck in here and is forcing you to relax,” you explain, with a playful gleam in your eyes. 

To everyone’s surprise, he slowly lowers himself to the floor, sitting down next to you. 

You exchange surprised looks with Derek and Spencer. All amazed at how you managed to get Hotch to sit down.

The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence, scared to say something that will make Hotch change his mind. You’re glad he joined you, but it’s hard to ignore the rising temperature now that another person is sitting in close proximity to you. 

“How long has it been?” you ask, fanning yourself with your blazer. “I’m starting to sweat.”

“Thirty-five minutes so far,” Derek replies, following your lead and fanning himself. 

Hotch looks mildly uncomfortable, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Spencer, however, looks the most miserable using the collar of his sweater vest to wipe his face. 

“You guys should take your jackets off,” you suggest, eyeing Morgan and Hotch. 

You don’t need to tell Derek twice, as he removes his jacket, revealing a black short sleeved shirt that looks a lot more comfortable. Hotch looks reluctant to do the same, but eventually gives in, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt collar. You take a peak as he reveals his broad, muscled shoulders for a moment, before readjusting his shirt. Hotch notices your glance and his eyes shoot up to yours, catching you in the moment as your cheeks flush. You quickly look away. 

“Oh, she’s enjoying the view, alright,” Derek smirks and you give him a warning glance.

“Shut up. I was just surprised Hotch would give in.” 

Morgan grins and nudges Hotch with his elbow, “Look at that, Hotch. You’re surprising us all today. First you smile and now you’re taking your jacket off. What’s next, dancing a jig?” You and Spencer snort at his comment. Hotch rolls his eyes at Morgan’s teasing but can’t help a small smile from appearing on his lips. 

Spencer struggles with his vest and you give him a hand. “Here, let me help you”, you say as you scoot closer, pulling the vest over his head. The fabric feels soft, but incredibly warm in your hands. You don’t know how he managed to keep it on for this long. Reid is taken aback for a moment, but mutters a soft thanks. Morgan and Hotch watch the exchange with interest, clearly amused at the sight of you being so forward with Reid.

“Now it’s your turn, you’re the one who insisted,” Morgan states, and you can’t help but agree as you take your blazer off, giving a satisfied hum at the immediate relief.

“I’ll open up some buttons too, if you don’t mind,” you announce as your fingers start working on your blouse. You don’t give them a chance to respond, since it seems only fair. Their eyes widen at your gesture, all of them staring at the sight of your blouse slightly opening up. Morgan lets out a low whistle, “Now that’s a nice view.”

“You’re insufferable,” you scoff as you stop unbuttoning, showing just a hint of your lacy bra. Morgan’s eyes linger on the sight, clearly enjoying the view. Hotch and Reid look like they’re struggling to keep their cool. Reid is the most flustered of all, turning bright red as he focuses on his hands. Morgan glances around at the others, seeing them struggle to keep themselves composed. 

He chuckles and shakes his head, enjoying the effect you’re having on them. “You know, you’re driving all of us a little crazy here, sweetheart.” 

You let out a small huff, “Give me a break. You’re wearing shortsleeves, I’m the one wearing a blouse.” 

Hotch speaks up, his gaze lingering on your blouse. “That blouse does seem a bit warm.” 

“Thank you!” You say, glad someone is on your side. 

Hotch eyes stay focused on you though, or specifically the bit of exposed collarbone and the lace that’s hugged around the swell of your breast. Your breathing heaves when you find Spencer taking occasional peaks as well, watching with a mixture of awe and embarrassment, finding difficulty in looking away. 

“Let’s just all take our shirts off, I want it to be fair”, you quickly exclaim, done with the heavy tension that’s driving you crazy. Hotch and Morgan exchange amused glances as Spencer eyes turn big, taking in your proposal. 

“All our shirts, are you sure about that?” Derek asks, a hint of surprise in his voice. 

“Then at least you won’t eye me like that.” 

“Oh, I think I’ll eye you only more.” Derek teases, licking his lips. 

“Just take your damn shirt off.” 

Derek chuckles and raises his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright. No need to get feisty.” He says as he lifts his shirt off in a smooth motion. It’s a known fact that Derek is jacked, but seeing him in a setting like this, abs glistening with sweat and pupils still dilated from looking at you, is on a whole ‘nother level. 

You’re glad the attention is taken away from your peering eyes as Hotch follows suit, unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a clearly defined muscular chest with just a hint of hair. You start doubting your suggestion as it feels like the room is only growing hotter. You look over at Spencer, seeing whether he’ll be the next. Spencer hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting between the other’s bare chests and your unbuttoned blouse. His chest heaving with his breath, suggesting that he’s more affected than he’s letting on. 

“Come on, pretty boy. Join the party.” Derek says.

“I’ll go first,” you assure Spencer, not wanting him to suffer under peer pressure. Your hands start working on the buttons. Spencer’s eyes widened at the scene in front of him.

“See, it’s not that hard,” you reassure Spencer, folding your blouse and placing it next to you. 

“I don’t know about that. You’re making things pretty hard, baby girl.” Morgan comments, making you laugh. 

“You’re way too dirty for your own good.” 

Morgan grins. “Can you blame me? I mean, look at you. You’re looking mighty tempting right now.”

You softly smile at the compliment and focus back on Spencer. “You’ll feel a lot cooler, I promise,” you encourage. 

“I don’t know. I’m not as… toned as the others.” It hurts you to hear how he’s comparing himself to his colleagues. 

“Do you truly think I care about that?” You ask him. “It’s not a competition. I just want you to feel comfortable,” you speak genuinely. Spencer looks up at you, his eyes searching yours for any signs of mockery or deception. When he finds none, his face softens and he nods. He lifts his shirt over his head, revealing a body no less impressive than the others. 

“Not too bad, pretty boy. You’re looking pretty good without that vest on.” Derek compliments. 

“You do,” You agree, as you fold his shirt and place it on top of my blouse. Spencer gives you a sheepish smile, grateful for your help. Glad he decided to take his shirt off as he felt the cool air hit his chest, “Yeah, that does feel better.” 

You look around the room, the scene for sure one to be put down in the history books of the BAU. “I think it’s safe to say we’ve entered a new step in our colleague bonding,” you awkwardly chuckle, trying to lighten the mood but the air feels charged with an unspoken tension that’s impossible to ignore. You can feel their eyes on you, the way they linger, the weight of their gazes following your every movement. You try to ignore it, to stay professional, but your body betrays you. You shift slightly, adjusting your skirt, and that’s when you feel it - the subtle brush of Hotch’s fingers caressing your arm.

You swallow hard as you look away. The air around you is suddenly too tight. You want to curse your body as your nipples harden under his steady gaze, there being no way to blame it on the cold. Derek notices the exchange and leans in, the heat between you two palpable. 

His voice is low and husky, “You're all worked up, sweetheart. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.” 

Your pulse quickens, the sound of your heartbeat almost drowning out his words. “I’m not the only one,” you counter, voice quieter, but the challenge in it is unmistakable. You feel Spencer shift next to you, his body tense as he feels like he’s been caught staring at your chest. “Don’t be shy, genius,” Derek teases. “We’re all thinking the same thing right now.” You can’t help but smile at Spencer’s flustered look. “It’s… It’s hard not to, when you-” He cuts himself off, his voice faltering as his eyes dart away from your breasts. 

Hotch is still standing by the door, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches the dynamic play out. “We’ve been stuck in here long enough. I think it’s safe to say we all want and feel the same thing.” The air thickens with desire as he dares to say the thought that’s been occupying everyone’s mind. You glance at the others, seeing how Spencer is adjusting himself in his pants and the way Derek is watching you, his gaze so intense it almost feels like he’s touching you. 

“Guess it’s only fair if we all just… give in to it,” you murmur, your eyes flicking between them. The suggestion is there, unspoken but understood. 

From there on everything feels like a blur. You hear Hotch growl behind you as he wraps his bicep around your neck, pulling you in as his lips crash against yours. You whimper against his mouth, which gives him the opportunity to let his tongue slide in. You welcome his tongue with yours as your hand moves to squeeze the arm around your neck, making full use of the circumstances to feel up on his muscles. 

“You’re always driving me crazy when wearing this skirt,” Hotch groans in your ear as his teeth pull on your earlobe. You can find no other way to respond than let out a high pitched sound of enjoyment as his free hand kneads your ass through your pencil skirt. Spencer watches the scene unfold in front of him. How his boss roughly grabs and kisses you, manhandling you. 

 “I- I don’t know about this…” Spencer stammers. 

Morgan turns to him, breaking the intense gaze he had on you and Hotch. “Don’t worry Reid, she’s enjoying it.” 

“Are you sure?” Spencer asks, uncertainty in his voice as Hotch is pulling on your hair, giving him access to plant kisses and bites on your neck. 

Morgan grins, “Let me show you how sure I am,” he says as he steps towards you and Hotch. He rolls your skirt up to your stomach and lets his fingers slide over your panties, cursing when it easily slips between your folds, creating a wet sound. You moan at the friction, not in the state to feel embarrassed by how wet you are. 

“See Reid, she loves it,” Derek points out, licking his lips as he pulls your damp panties to the side. Spencer lets out a groan as Derek reveals your glistening pussy, his hand subconsciously squeezing the bulge in his pants for any form of release.

“Let me see,” Hotch insists, removing his lips from your neck. Derek slides a finger through your folds and proudly displays the stickiness to Hotch. 

“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you?,” Hotch whispers, his nose pressed against the side of your face. “Just been begging to get in a situation like this so we could all fuck you the way you deserve.” You whimper at his dirty words and hot breath on your skin. Your legs feel like jelly as he grinds himself against your ass. Derek continues to apply pressure with his hand as he lets his fingers rub up and down your lips and clit. 

Spencer’s eyes are burning holes in your chest. He just can’t understand how no one has touched your lovely tits, while they’ve been teasing him the entire time. 

“You can come here Spence,” you purr, hypnotizing him to walk towards you. He swallows as he’s close enough to touch you, close enough to hear all the little sounds you’re making as you’re being touched all over. 

“Can I-?” You don’t let Spencer finish his question as you quickly nod, throwing your head back as his finger grazes over your nipple, sending a direct spark of pleasure to your clit. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers mostly to himself in awe as he cups your breast, the shape fitting perfectly in his large hand. 

“Thank you,” you whisper back. It’s ironic how his sweet compliment is the thing that's making you shy.

Derek slips a finger inside of you with ease, and you bite your lip to hold back your mewls. “Don’t do that. I like the way you sound.” Spencer encourages, resulting in another moan from you, loving the effect his words have on you. 

Hotch unclasps your bra from behind and Spencer helps him by pulling your straps down, letting your breasts fall free. Hotch grabs your left breast, kneading it with his strong, calloused hands as he rolls your nipple in between his fingers. Spencer uses the momentary distraction to bend down and experimentally licks your nipple, humming at the sensation. He gives a couple more licks to your breast as he pulls your nipple in between his lips, sucking on it as he flicks his tongue against the sensitive bud. 

You feel overwhelmed by the way all of your erogenous zones are stimulated at once; Hotch licking and biting on your neck and ear, while massaging your breast and grinding his hardness against your ass. Spencer’s swollen lips and wet tongue tracing over your nipple as Derek caresses your thighs as he adds a second finger into your pussy. You realize that this is what pleasure is supposed to be like. The zones on your body are all connected and you haven’t experienced true bliss until those spots get triggered at the same time. 

“Morgan, is she ready?” Hotch asks, breathing heavily. 

“More than ready, sir,” Derek grins as he takes a step back. He lets his fingers slide out of you, making you whimper at the loss of contact, but then Hotch turns you around so that your chest is pressed up against the elevator doors where he was standing. 

“I need you for myself,” he groans. Derek tosses a condom from his jeans and Hotch catches it, ripping the package with his teeth while pulling his trousers down to his knees, not wanting to let a single moment go to waste. Your hands are pressed against the wall as he slowly enters you. 

“Oh my god… I feel so full,” you whine and you swear you could feel him grin as you register that he’s not even fully inside of you. You let out a long breath as you feel his balls make contact with your ass. 

“You’re doing okay there, princess?” Derek chuckles and you nod. Hotch slowly moves his length out of you as he slams his hips back in with a groan. You gasp as you wrap your hand around the back of his head, keeping yourself steady as he continues thrusting into you. His growls feel hot against your neck. His sweaty chest pressed up against your back, leaving you completely in his grasp.

“You feel that angel? How your pussy swallows my cock?” You let out a cry as you nod your head in agreement. 

“I don’t understand Y/N. You’re a big girl, use your words.” 

“Oh god…’’ Your head spins as he pounds into you. “I’m not going to tell you again Y/N, use your words.” He orders. 

“Yes!’’ you cry out. ‘’God yes Aaron, it feels so good. I can feel you so deep inside of me.” 

“Say my name again.” He moans as his hand trails down your stomach until it reaches your swollen bud. “Aaron, please… I’m so, so close.” He gives some quick taps to your clit, making you squirm in pleasure as your knees give out. His strong hands grip you by the waist and he hoists you back up on his dick. “I’m almost there honey, you can keep it up, be good for me.” 

You let out a string of whines as he uses the palm of his hand to swiftly move against your folds, indirectly bringing pleasure to your clit. You can’t take it any more, pressing your nails into his arms as you crouch down in front of him, shaking as your release hits you. Hotch groans loudly as his dick slips out of your pussy. His dick twitches as he takes off the condom, painting your back with hot spurts of cum.

You have your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath as you’re still riding down your orgasm. You hum as you feel the soft material of Spencer’s sweater vest against your back, cleaning you up. 

“You okay?” Spencer asks, kneeled in front of you. You nod your head and softly smile at his tenderness. 

“Yeah. I feel really, really good.” You answer, making Spencer return your smile. With him in front of you, you notice the visible outline of his bulge pressed against his thigh and reach out to touch it. Your fingers lightly brush over his length, causing him to shudder. 

“Do you want me to take care of you?” You ask sensually, looking in his eyes. 

“Not really,” he responds, taking you by surprise. He sees your expression and quickly corrects himself. “It’s not like I don’t want you to! I’d- I’d love you to do…”, he’s not actually sure what you planned on doing to him. “Whatever you would do. I just-,” his voice softens, meeting your gaze. “I really need to know what you taste like.” 

Your cheeks warm, feeling your arousal grow. “Okay,” you exhale. Spencer extends his hand, helping you up. You find your blazer and bundle it up for Spencer to lay his head on. You’re amazed at how willing he is to get down on the floor, ready to eat you out in a very nontraditional and arguable unsanitized way. You hover over his face as you get down on your knees, letting out a hum as his breath tingles your pussy. Spencer kneads your calves and runs his hands up the back of your thighs. He tilts his head up, placing a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

“Feels good,” you mumble. Spencer responds with a hum against your skin, the vibration causing you to moan. He grabs your thighs, slowly pulling them further apart. “I can’t wait to taste you,” he admits, sticking out his tongue and licking a stripe up your folds. You moan, arching your back. Through hooded eyes you spot the figure of Hotch. He’s sitting against the wall in front of you, lazily stroking his half hard length as he stares at you. 

Just when you were about to question where Morgan was, you catch him in your periphery. He holds your gaze as he approaches, coming to a stop right in front of you. His belt buckle hangs open, but it doesn’t look like he’s touched himself. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d really like to take up on that offer genius here denied.” You grin at him, hands reaching out to his belt. Spencer is keeping himself busy, licking and sucking up your juices. You pull Derek’s pants down, gasping as his dick springs free, slapping against his happy trail. You groan in delight as you wrap your hand around his shaft. He tilts his head back at the contact. “Fuck baby, your hands feel so warm and soft.” You lean forward and let some of your spit dribble down on his dick, making him hiss. You move your thumb in circles over his tip, mixing your saliva with his precum. When it feels like it’s wet enough, you move your hand up and down his length in a steady motion.

His tip grows red and you cannot resist licking your lips before putting your mouth on him. He feels heavy in your mouth as you take him in deeper, stimulating him with your tongue as you suck. His hands tangle in your hair, holding you as he moves in sync with your movements. 

Spencer moves a hand up the curve of your ass while he uses the other to unbuckle his belt. He slides his hand in his pants, rubbing himself over his boxers as he relishes in your taste. His lips nibble on your labia as his nose tickles against your clit. 

“Don’t get distracted, baby girl,” Derek states, softly pushing your head back down. You swallow around him and try to up your pace. Derek takes your breast in his hand, massaging it. As your nipples harden he takes one in between his fingers, pulling on it. You gasp at the sensation, making his dick slide deeper down your throat. 

“Fuck! Right there baby, that feels so good,” he pants. You blink away tears, continuing the steady movement of your head and swirls of your tongue. 

Spencer’s dick starts feeling too hot in his boxers and he pulls it out, so that it lays against his stomach. Your pussy is absolutely dripping because of the swipes of Spencer’s tongue and the taste of Derek in your mouth. Spencer can’t keep up with licking you clean, your wetness dripping down his chin. He reaches out to grab his length, the skin to skin contact overstimulating him. 

You notice Spencer getting restless underneath you. Derek’s dick pops out of your mouth. “Are you okay, Spence?” You ask. He hums against your clit in response, you let out a high pitched moan and instinctively bend your knees. “Sorry,” you apologize as you want to tilt your hips back up, but Spencer pulls you back down by your thighs, making you sit on his face.

“Oh god…” You moan as he starts devouring you. He keeps a hand firm on your ass as he starts jerking himself off to the beautiful sounds that you’re making. You lazily tug on Derek’s cock, too distracted by Spencer’s tongue. 

“Oh Spencer, I’m going to cum,” you whimper, mouth open and brows furrowed in pleasure. You start grinding yourself on his tongue, seeking your release. You find the perfect spot and Spencer presses the tip of his tongue against your clit, as you fall undone. Spencer laps up your juices and squeezes the load out of his dick as it splatters on his belly. You lift your hips to give Spencer some space. He moves away, joining you on his knees as he sits behind you, pressing featherlight kisses to your back. 

“I’m not gonna last that much longer,” Derek announces, who’s been stroking himself to your orgasm. “Come here, then,” you invite as you take him back in your mouth. Placing a hand on his thigh for support, you use all of the energy that is left in you to suck him off. Your free hand reaches out to play with his balls, which seems to be the trigger for him.

“Fuck, Y/N, baby, I’m going to cum!” He groans deeply as he fills your mouth. You quickly swallow his load, eyes watering as he pulls you in by your head, needing your lips on him as he rides out the aftershocks. 

“Fuck… You’re amazing, sweetheart.” He sighs, letting go of your hair so that you can catch your breath. 

-

“Who the hell is in there?” 

The voice outside is sharp and gruff. Everyone’s heads whip around, startled. Hotch swiftly buckles his belt as he strides towards the elevator doors.

“This is SSA Aaron Hotchner of the BAU. I’m stuck here with three of my agents.” 

The voice responds quickly, dripping with disbelief. "Why didn’t you morons use the emergency button?"

Your colleagues look at each other, then shift their gaze to you, all with accusing looks plastered on their faces.

"Hey, don’t look at me! I’m the first one that pressed the red button!" You say in defense. 

The voice outside huffs in frustration. "Red? It's a black button."

You blink in surprise, your gaze snapping to the panel. You crawl up to get a better look, and sure enough, there's a black button, boldly labeled ‘EMERGENCY.’

"What in the world?" you mutter under your breath. "Then what the hell is the red button for?!"

The voice outside laughs sarcastically. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I’ve been working here for six months. Don’t blame me because you can’t read." He pauses, clearly shaking his head. "FBI agents, my ass."

You blink in disbelief. You share an incredulous glance with Derek, then burst out laughing, your frustration giving way to amusement. "Seriously?" you mutter, shaking your head. 

Derek notices how Spencer’s been unusually quiet. “Speak up, kid,” he urged. 

“I’ve known what the buttons do the entire time,” he says, voice casual.

You and Hotch both turn to look at him, eyes wide. “What?!” You both exclaim at the same time. 

Spencer shrugs, a playful glint in his eyes. “I told you about those movies where people overcome their differences to try to escape. I wanted to see how we would solve it.”

Derek’s mouth drops open. “You’ve been sitting here the whole time knowing exactly what to do and didn’t say anything?!” 

Spencer smiles, looking almost proud of himself. “It’s a team-building exercise,” he says matter-of-factly. “Don’t tell me that you didn’t enjoy it.”

You shake your head, laughing in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable, Reid.”

As if on cue, the elevator jolts, and the soft ding of the doors opening fills the space.

[bcyhoods]

i promise i can usually write guys give me a chance please im begging im so good

[wainawtmai]

toxic situationship!sukuna who is so bad for you but fucks you so good.

He rarely ever responds to your messages or calls, gives half-assed nonchalant responses when he does, and could care less about you or your wellbeing outside of when he’s fucking you.

Every time you think of dropping him, think of blocking him once and for all and ending this whole bad acid trip of a relationship, you get a singular message with the address of an always random and always luxury hotel.

It goes the same way every time, you stare at the message, questioning whether you should just ignore it and this whole fucked-up endeavor…before deciding that it’d be better to end it all in person, to stand your ground and tell him to his face that you’re 100% done with him.

….

“Louder, I can’t hear you.” His voice is an effortless demand and you don’t have any room to deny it when he’s fucking his too-big cock into you without a shred of remorse. You can see your face in the bathroom mirror, tears escaping your eyes, your lipstick smudged and ruined from when he used your mouth prior.

Each thrust presses you harder into the cool marble sink, and instead of uncomfortable it feels exhilarating paired with his hand curled possessively around your throat.

“’m sorry for saying I w-want to leave.” You slur between moans, “I’m yours.” You can’t even remember what you’d said when you first got here, what had it been fifteen minutes? An hour? The concept of time seemed to blur as your mind did, absolutely gone from the feeling of his cock filling you up in a way that you didn’t think anyone else ever could.

“That’s right,” You could see his smirk in the mirror as his hand tightened around your neck. “Who else can fill this greedy pussy like I do?”

You don’t respond, your eyes lulling close as you succumb to the pleasure, moaning and whimpering like the pathetic cocksleeve he wanted you to be. Sukuna’s hand moves from your neck to the top of your head, tugging at your hair with a force that has you groaning and clenching around him. “Be good and answer me when I’m talking to you.”

You stammer out an apology struggling to ignore the onslaught of feelings that make you tremble: the slight sting of the slap of his hips against your ass, your throbbing clit that is begging for attention you know he won’t give it, the new shocks that his tight grip on your hair sends throughout your body as he tugs on it between each thrust. You swallow your moans, “Mmno o-one.”

“And you take me so fucking well.” He grunts, each word punctuated by a sharp, wet thrust. “I’m starting to think you act like a brat on purpose so I fuck you stupid, huh?”

…

You eventually do end up blocking him, because you can’t think with your pussy forever. You even snag a date with a nice guy.

But Sukuna somehow finds a way to be there in his place, giving you a quick warning before dragging you to his posh car and fucking you into the backseat with your face pressed against the tinted window.

“Why don’t you call him?” He remarks, you can hear the devilish grin on his lips as he pounds into you, “Tell him to come see you all spread out. That’ll teach you a lesson.”

You think frantically that he’s bluffing as you stifle your moans, but then he has you sitting on his lap, fucking his cock up into you with your phone in hand and your date on speaker. He levels you with a glare that renders you completely undone, as you moan into the phone, crooning to your date that you can’t make it tonight because ‘you’re too busy being used’.

When you come with a swipe of his thumb along your clit, damn near passing out from the force of your orgasm as you squirt all over his cock, he utters sweet praises, gripping your chin firmly with his free hand, “Don’t let this happen again, understand?”

You give a delirious, fucked-out nod.

[augustjoy]

That’ll Show Them.

Based on the following ask: 🥰 yay!! Okay. (Deep breath), so the idea was basically either preschool or elementary school setting. Hotch being a sexy single dad has most of the single (and not!) Moms drooling over him. Y/N or Reader is a single mom, not one of those drooling but definitely sees that he's attractive. But her kid (girl or boy) happens to quickly become Jack's BFF and this causes natural interactions and conversations between her and Hotch over the next few weeks which makes the other moms salty and jealous, and she overhears them at one point speculating that she probably told her kid to befriend Jack just so she could get closer to Hotch. I didn't really think of an ending for it but just had an idea of a scene where she's trying to remain calm and unaffected while overhearing them talking about her and giving side eye. Maybe Hotch hears it too and comes to her defense? Or makes them even saltier by asking her out in front of them? 😈 @nyxwolph thank you for requesting this! I did adjust a little bit, so I hope you like it!!

Aaron Hotchner x Single Mom! Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 3569

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

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, some explicit language, reader is a single mom, mention of divorce, school moms being shitty, mention of Hotch’s ex father-in-law being ill, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description other than being shorter than hotch, reader is mentioned/implied to own a shop (no details), gay best friend, Hotch starts work at 8am (idk what the BAU hours are lmao) let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

The moms were ruthless. You were barely three months into the school year and already you had been completely ostracized from the “mom group.” Part of you had assumed it was because the majority of these moms had all caught wind of your very public, messy divorce. The other part of you, however, knew that the main reason you’d been exiled was him.

Aaron HOTTIE Hotchner, as the other moms called him, had taken Ms. Jenson’s third grade class by storm. Meet the teacher night had been a frenzy of horny moms all praying their child ended up in the same class as Aaron’s son. There were hushed conversations and giggles, and hair flips all night long, you had felt bad for the teachers since their presentations had fallen second to the gossip travelling through the halls about the hot single dad.

“I heard he works for the FBI!”

“I heard he’s a widower. Could you even imagine?”

“Wow. He must be pretty amazing, a single dad and working for the FBI!”

“Can we be real for a moment and just admire how hot he is?”

“Did you see his hands?”

“Yes! Did you see his suit? I love a well-dressed man.”

They were vultures, every single one of them, and Aaron was their newest victim. He, of course, had been completely oblivious to the blatant flirting – he returned every advance they made with a kind smile or polite nod. And listen, you weren’t going to deny that Aaron was hot…you just weren’t trying to be like those other moms and gush about it at meet the teacher night.

Your being excluded by the class moms had only gotten worse since Jack and Millie had become friends. Millie had told you on the first day of school, that a boy had pushed her down on the playground, and before you could panic, she told you that a different boy…one named Jack…had helped her up. She said after that, they sat together at lunch and read aloud.

You could barely contain you excitement. Since the divorce, Millie had been having a tough time making friends – mainly because the moms told their kids to stay away. Your ex had been quite cozy with some of the moms at Millie’s last school and you had eventually found out he was sleeping with one of them. Once the divorce was finalized and you had full custody, you’d moved and that meant a new school for Millie.

Realistically that should’ve been the end of the drama, but it just so happens that the girl who your husband slept with…well her sister’s child was in the same class as Millie. He of course was the kid that pushed Millie down on the first day of school.

It shouldn’t have bothered you, their constant whispers…but it had you seething. This was an everyday occurrence now that you drove Jack home. The moms all waiting for dismissal engaging in hushed conversations about how desperate you must be.

“I bet she told her daughter to befriend his son.”

“What a sad way to get his attention.”

“Well, I mean, her ex did cheat…so she’s probably desperate.”

“She’s ridiculous if you ask me.”

This new development has begun exactly two weeks ago. Jack and Millie had been on their sixth playdate – this had been the first one Aaron had been able to host (due to work obvi) which had led to you staying and the two of you talking about how demanding his work schedule must be. He had told you it kept him pretty busy and that his sister-in-law had been extremely helpful, but with her father falling ill, she was growing increasingly busy.

“You know, I could drive Jack. If you’re comfortable with it.” You offered.

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you!” Aaron panicked.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t ask…I’m offering. I already have to drive to the school to get Millie, I could grab Jack and the two of them could hang out until you are off work. And if your sister-in-law ever can’t watch him while you’re away, know that I am more than willing.” You punctuated with a kind smile.

“What if I take them to school, I don’t need to be at work until eight, and then you could pick them up? That way it is even. Obviously when I’m out of town, which wouldn’t necessarily be possible, but I could coordinate with Jess and…” Aaron was spiraling.

“Aaron. If you want to take them to school when you’re in town, that would be great. That would allow me the time I need in the shop before opening. When you are out of town, if Jack is staying with me, I will take them to and from school – if he’s with Jess, she doesn’t have to worry about Millie okay?” You suggested.

“You’re a godsend. You know that?” Aaron said, a smile growing on his face.

“Yeah well, Jack has been an incredible friend to Millie, and I would love for them to spend more time together. Plus, the house has been so quiet and, I don’t know. It would be nice to have the kids there.” There was a slight cringe that was brought with the insinuation of your divorce.

“I appreciate it either way.” Aaron gently nudged your shoulder.

So, for the last two weeks, Aaron had been driving the kids to school and you had been picking them up. He shockingly had yet to be called on a case…but you knew it was only a matter of time.

Aaron was called away a few days later, he had let you know that Jess would be watching Jack. That had sent a tinge of pain right to your heart. In truth, you were attracted to Aaron, and the more time you spent with him, you were starting to fall for him. You tried not to focus too much on the fact that he’d sent Jack to stay with Jess…chalking up to the fact that Aaron probably didn’t want to burden you – even though he could never.

You didn’t hear from Aaron until nearly two weeks later.

A: Hey, we just got back from this case. I’ll pick Millie up in the morning for school. Are you good to pick up Jack after?

Y: Hey! Yeah I can pick them up tomorrow. I have to take Millie to get her cleats and shin guards for soccer, is it okay if Jack tags along?

A: I totally forgot soccer starts next weekend. If I sent some money in Jack’s backpack could you pick up his stuff too?

Y: Of course! Will you be late tomorrow?

A: Probably, after a case like this, there’s a lot of paperwork to be done. I will try to be there by 7pm if that’s okay.

Y: 7 is fine, we will get homework done and I will feed them and have Jack all ready for you!

A: Thank you. Seriously I don’t know what I’d do without you.

The next day you arrived at the school at 2:45 pm to pick up the kids. You parked your car like always and stood in wait with the other parents. You were checking your phone to see where the nearest sporting goods store was when one of the dads approached you.

“Hey, is Millie ready for soccer to start?”

“Oh, hey Scott! Yeah she is so excited! What about Macy?” You questioned.

“She’s nervous, but she told me she was glad Millie and Jack were playing too. Michael was really bummed that the girls weren’t in a class together this year.” Scott explained.

“I was too! How is Michael? We should all have dinner some time!” You suggested.

“He’s good, and I am sure he would love to have you and your new beau over for a meal – I will talk to him when we get home!” Scott beamed.

“New beau…what are you talking about? Do you mean Aaron? He and I, we’re not…” You stuttered.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay! You should be bragging to all those bitches that you bagged the hot DILF! Don’t let them spoil something good for you hon.” Scott gently squeezed your arm.

Just as you opened your mouth to reply, the kids came running out. Macy ran to hug her dad while Jack and Millie made their way to you. Both kids hugged you and then said their goodbyes to Macy. You moved to grab their hands and guide them to the car, but not without catching the glares from all the moms. They must’ve heard Scott and you talking…and while you and Aaron weren’t dating, it didn’t hurt to let them believe it for a bit.

After getting the kids soccer gear, you took them home and got them started on their homework and gave them some apple slices. You checked a few emails, changed the washer and dryer, and wrote up your grocery list in the meantime.

When they were done with their homework, you checked their work and then quizzed them on their spelling words. By then it was nearly 5:30 pm, you set the two of them up in the living room with a coloring book and some Legos while you got dinner started. You made some grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans – for the kids, you added some cheese to the potatoes and cut up the chicken – setting that on the table for them alongside a glass of chocolate milk.

“Kids, time for dinner!” You hollered.

“Coming mom!” Millie called.

You were about 10 minutes into dinner when a knock sounded from the front door. You excused yourself and walked over to let Aaron in.

“Hey, we were just having dinner, can I get you a plate?” You offered.

“Oh, as long as it’s not an imposition!” Aaron replied.

“Aaron, how many times do I have to tell you that it’s not an imposition. I like having you around.” You stopped abruptly, embarrassed that you’d let that slip. “I mean, you know, it’s nice that Millie and Jack are friends…I uh. I…”

“I know what you mean. And I like having you around too.” He said, finally stepping fully into the house.

Aaron placed a gentle hand on the small of your back to guide you toward the kitchen. You plated him up some food and he joined you at the table, sitting right beside you. You couldn’t help the growing heat that bloomed on your cheeks as his arm brushed against your own. The room was filled with the playful chatter of the eight-year-olds that sat across from you, giggles escaping them as they recounted the events of their day at school.

Glancing over, you noticed the joy radiating from Aaron’s expression. You hadn’t seen him this genuinely happy in all the time you’ve known him, and you wonder if it is because he doesn’t get to relax like this often. The thought allows your mind to drift even further – splaying images of cooking for the four of you all the time, of late nights cuddled with Aaron and even further into the future, welcoming a new child to the family you’ve curated…only it's all in your head.

“You alright?” Aaron whispers. His warm breath against your ear causes a chill to cascade across your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, just lost in thought.”

“Hey mom, is Jack’s dad going to be my new dad?” Millie posed, causing you to choke on the bite of chicken you’d just taken.

“Woah, sweetheart you’re okay, just breathe!” Aaron patted your back gently. “Here, take a sip of water.”

Taking a swig, the chicken makes its way down. “Mills…baby where did you get that idea?”

“Well Rain said that his mom said that you were moving in on Jack’s dad, and I thought that if we were moving in, then that would make him my new dad!” Millie smiled.

It was Aaron who choked this time, only it was on his water, causing some of it to certainly escape through his nose. He pulled his napkin to his face as he coughed in an attempt to clear his airway.

“Aar…breathe.” You returned the favor of patting him gently on the back. “Are you okay?”

He answered with a nod and allowed a chuckle to escape his mouth before looking up to meet your gaze. Aaron wasn’t ignorant of the fact that the other moms had been eyeing him since the beginning of the year, he just hadn’t realized that they’d gone after you due to your budding closeness.

“Millie, Rain’s mom is just kidding. Jack’s dad and I are becoming good friends, like you and Jack, and they don’t like that, so they’re saying some not so nice things.” You explained.

“Oh…okay.” Millie said, a small pout gracing her features.

A pout that pulled on not only yours, but also Aaron’s heartstrings. He allowed himself a glance in your direction and took careful note of the hurt and disappointment that flashed across your own features briefly. Was it possible you felt more than you were letting on?

Six days later you received a call at four in the morning. It hadn’t been the thing to wake you up, but it came as a surprise, nonetheless.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I just got a call about a time sensitive case and Jess is dealing with her dad. Would you mind taking Jack while I am away?”

“Aaron, of course! Do you need me to come and get him?”

“No, I will get a bag together for him and drop him off on my way to the office. I am going to leave you with a key to my place just in case Jack needs anything. Thank you for doing this, seriously it means a lot.”

“It’s really not a problem, I will have a bed made up for him by the time you get here.”

“Thanks sweetheart, see you soon.”

With that, Aaron hung up, and for the second time you were taken by surprise at the pet name he so casually referred to you by. You had to remind yourself not to swoon. It wouldn’t do you any good to get into your thoughts about the meaning behind his slip of the tongue.

Jack Hotchner was the most wonderful child you have the privilege of knowing – aside from Millie of course. He was polite and he listened with no pushback. He helped Millie with her chores (cleaning up her toys and putting her clothes in the laundry basket), he didn’t complain, and he just exuded this kindness and joy that brought an extra bit of warmth to your home.

You could see Millie becoming attached and you feared her heart would break once Jack had to go back home. You only hoped that she’d understand that although Jack’s presence isn’t currently permanent, they’d still get to see each other all the time.

Jack stayed with you for five nights, Aaron surprised you all by showing up with a pizza on Saturday evening.

The three of you had been cuddled up on the couch watching Inside Out 2 when the doorbell rang. You shuffled over to the door in your sweats and fuzzy socks to see Aaron standing there in a quarter zip and jeans. Good God, he’s never looked so good.

“Aaron!” You couldn’t hide your excitement.

“Surprise! I brought pizza, I hope cheese is okay.” He inquired.

“Cheese is perfect.” You confirmed. “Kids, dinner is here!”

“Dad!”

Jack ran to embrace his father. Millie, however, stormed off to her room. You were quick to throw Aaron an apologetic glance, before following her down the hall.

“Mills…what’s wrong honey?”

Millie replied with a grumble in her pillow and a shake of her head.

“Baby, I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

“It’s not fair. Jack doesn’t have a mom, and I don’t have a dad. But when you and Mr. Aaron are together it feels like a normal family. How come you guys can’t just be together?” Millie cried.

“Oh, honey. It’s not that simple bug. Mr. Aaron, well he’s a busy man and I just…” You trailed off.

“Don’t you like him?”

“Mills, yeah I like him, but like I said, it’s not that simple. Even if he liked me back, that wouldn’t just make us a family, it would take some time for us to get serious and then we’d have to decide if that was the right step for us.”

“It is the right step! You guys like each other, and Jack and I get along…mommy it’s perfect! You could be Jack’s mom and Mr. Aaron could be my new dad.” Millie said matter-of-factly.

“Oh honey, is this about your dad?” You pulled Millie into a hug.

“No! He wasn’t nice to me like Mr. Aaron is. Mom I want Mr. Aaron to be my dad.” She whispered as tears stained her cheeks.

“I know honey, me too…me too.” You pressed a kiss to her head. “Baby lets go have some pizza and enjoy our time with Jack and Mr. Aaron, yeah?”

“Okay.”

That night, something shifted. Aaron and you had begun spending more time together, going to soccer practices and games together, taking the kids to the park, the movies, pottery painting places, dinner at your house, game night at his. Aaron had also exclusively been asking you to take Jack while he was away on cases – claiming Jess’ father was getting worse.

Two months passed like this, and things had started to feel very domestic. Millie was asking more and more about Jack being her brother and Aaron her father and you had to explain that even though they weren’t related, even by marriage, that friends could be considered family too.

Once again you were taking care of Jack while Aaron was out of town on a case, only this time it was a little different. Your car was in the shop, so Aaron had let you borrow his car, and today was the last day of school before winter break. The schoolyard was buzzing with anticipation of the final bell, parents were discussing their vacation plans with one another while waiting.

You has been talking to Scott and Michael when Becca approached you.

“You know, I think it’s a sick thing you’ve done, using your daughter to help you prey on a vulnerable man.” She hissed.

“Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?” You shot back.

“Aaron. You had Millie befriend Jack and for what so you could trick Aaron into going out with you? It’s truly despicable behavior. He’s a good man and he deserves someone who is genuine.” Becca spewed.

“I don’t know where you get off, talking to me like that, but I can assure you – ”

“Becca, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t speak to my girlfriend that way. She is the kindest most genuine person I have ever met, and every day she shows me how much she cares for and loves Jack and me. So back off, and maybe don’t speak on things you don’t know anything about.” Aaron bit as his arm snuck its way around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“I KNEW IT!” Scott shouted.

Becca stormed off with a huff and you turned around to see Aaron wearing a shit eating grin. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with disbelief at the fact that Aaron was here right now, he’d stuck up for you, and he’d called you his girlfriend. Yeah, you were fairly sure your brain had short circuited.

“Girlfriend?” Your gaze lifted to meet his.

“You know, I’d been meaning to ask.” He grinned down at you. “What do you say?”

“Yes! Of course!”

Aaron closed the gap between you and captured your lips in a kiss. All the while the moms scoffed and huffed in disbelief that you truly had taken Aaron HOTTIE Hotchner off the market. And before you had a chance to pull away, Jack and Millie came bounding over just in time to catch the last bit of your kiss.

“Does this mean Mr. Aaron can finally be my dad?” Millie asked.

Aaron leaned down to Millie’s level “Mills, I would love nothing more than to be your dad, but we have to take things slow okay? Your mom and I have a lot of grown-up decisions to make before that can happen, so I need you to be patient. Can you do that for me?”

“I can do that!”

You leaned down in front of Jack, wanting to ensure he’s included in all this. “What do you think Jack? Would you be okay with me and your dad being together? It means you and Millie will be together a lot more often.”

“Will you eventually be my mom then?”

“If your dad and I choose to get married eventually, then yeah, I’d be your stepmom.” You explained.

“I think you’d be a really good mom.” Jack wrapped his arms around you.

Aaron and you may have only just made things official, but in the last five or so months, you’d both fallen for each other. Sometimes, things are just right, and all the pieces fall into place naturally. And for the first time in a long time, you couldn’t wait to see where this leads.

[thesuperiorrobin]

Bruises and heartache~

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Crush!bestfriends!Reader

Warning: reader is flirty, mentions of cuts and blood but only slight, Damian gets freindzone

“Take your shirt off”

“Woah! At least take me out to dinner first Damian”

You laugh back as Damian mumbles something you can’t quite hear under his breath. He glares down, green eyes staring back at you with nothing but annoyance.

“L/n….” He hisses “If you won’t, I’ll do it for you”

He regrets saying that, watching as you flutter your eyelashes teasingly, tilting your head up against your shoulder as you lean forward—the palms of your hands planted comfortably on his mattress with your fingertips softly grazing over the med kit. “Then do it, I’m too hurt to do it by myself”

He feels his throat go dry, and his palms start to sweat. He's nervous, and he hates you for it. You struggle to lift your arms in the air, letting out a soft whine as you feel the pain shoulder, forearm, and back.

“I need a chiropractor after this” you groan, straightening your back with a light crack “or just have you step on me”

You wiggle your eyebrows, he rolls his eyes.

“I'm not stepping on your back” He murmurs, leaning forward to pinch the hem of your shirt “And don’t give me that look, you harlot”

You scrunch your nose, glancing up at him with a look in your eyes “I’d rather you just call me a Bitch or a whore”

“And hurry up my arms are getting tired”

He says nothing as he removes your top from your body, watching the way you arch your back out of an instant. Your groans and whines don’t go unnoticed.

“Sorry….” He says softly, throwing your dirt-covered shirt somewhere on the floor of his bedroom. His eyes linger, on what was once your soft skin—now covered in dirt, small cuts with dried or wet blood, and yellow spots that’ll eventually turn blue and purple.

“I’m fine” You let out a breathy laugh that makes his heart skip a beat “It’s my fault for falling off that tree”

He finds himself cringing at the memory.

What was once supposed to be a quick walk with Titus at the dog park turns into a quick energy back to the manor, with you holding your dad from both pain and laughter.

He still doesn’t understand how you could laugh at the unfortunate event.

But granted he thinks you’ve already taken too many hits in the head to even understand what had happened.

“What were you even doing up on that tree anyway?”q

The med kit is now in his hands as he waits for a response. He hears you humming—as if you were thinking before you let yourself speak.

“I dunno” you shrug lazily “cause I wanted to be up there. I liked the air up there”

He hums at your response, of course, you would have no reason to be up there other than the fact you just wanted to be up there.

For fun may he add.

“Lay down”

“But then again I did have a good view of that one alley way—where all the crack heads go to make out. I’m pretty sure I saw our math teacher there with an old lady—“

“I said lay on your back l/n” he asked one more time, brows furrowed slightly.

But you completely ignore him. But not on purpose. Your eyes are staring up at his white ceiling.

“Now imagine if one of the big gossiper from school saw them. Life completely over—but then again that old lady seemed to have some nice clothes meaning she probably has money to spear for generations—“

“Y/n” he calls out but you don’t answer him.

“Rich people just be doing stuff. Like they’re bored. Is that what you guys do? Do you think your dad did that kind of stuff before he got married to your stepmom? Imagine if that’s how they meet, what a story to te—“

He’s had enough—he pushes you down himself. Your bare back up against his silk sheets. A groan escaped past your lip, glaring at the you get Wayne above you.

“Rude” you hiss “you never interrupted a women when she’s speaking”

“You’re a woman?” He chuckles. “I thought you were some vile creature in heat”

“You are so lucky I’m hurt. I would have beat your ass”

A loud comfortable silence fall’s between the two of you. Eyes bore back up at his white ceiling, humming as a way to distract yourself for the painful pressure he was putting on the cuts and bruises and He was 100% carful, apologizing for every pressure he puts on your body.

"Y'know....' you start, eyes trailing down to his features, "This should be the other way around"

"How so?" he doesn't bat an eye at you, eye still trained on the cuts and bruises.

"you save lives in the middle of the night and you probably come home bloody and bruised, I mean I literally saw you in the hospital two weeks ago and you looked like shit"

"Thanks" he rolls his eyes, and you chuckle.

"You would think that I would be the one treating your wounds" you sigh, scratched arm reaching to grab ahold of his, fingers grazing under the sleeve of his black long-sleeve shirt. "I should be the one on top of you"

You couldn't hold back your laughter after hearing Damian choke on his saliva, he wants to push you off his bed but he holds himself back. Eyes trained on the bruises as he put on some cream.

" you can't go a minute without making an inappropriate joke can you?"

"I can" you hum, he can feel the tips of your fingers grazing his skin softly "But I like the way you react to them"

"Of course you do"

There's another comfortable silence that falls between the two of you. He can feel you rbreathen start to even out, and the longer you laid there waiting for him to finish the more it was a garante that you would fall asleep.

"I'm glad we're friends Damian, really glad....'

"Yeah....Friends"

He is in love, your honor!

sorry my art classes are kicking my ass with finals around the corner. 😭

[blainesebastian]

moments

word count: 10,720 ship: Nick Leister x reader rating: NC-17 (for some smut, suggestive sexual language and expletives) summary: There are moments you know you shouldn’t compare your ex to Nick, there’s no place where the two converge. Or maybe, you suppose, that’s exactly the point. notes: idk man this movie has become my whole personality, i got nothing else to say. (other than the gifs are from this awesome gifpack!) notes 2: reader has an abusive ex. while there are no explicit scenes of abuse, there are discussions of past abuse and trauma edit: i now have a masterlist!

You met Nick at a party like this. 

You had just broken up with your boyfriend and instead of wallowing, your friends dragged you to the nearest party they could find. You’re not easily someone who believes in fate or the universe having a plan, but you think that something happened that night to bring Nick into your life. 

You can still feel the thrum of the music in your veins, bumping into him as he was carrying drinks to someone, right on the makeshift dance floor in someone’s house. You remember opening your mouth to apologize–

“You should really come with a warning label if you’re going to swing your arms like that.” He says, British accent thick, eyes sharp. 

He’s beautiful, you think. He’s also an asshole. 

Your hands fall to your hips, eyebrows drawing together as you take a look at him. Really take a look. You moved here because your parents had work, ironically with Nick’s father. You’ve heard of the infamous Nick but haven’t met him in person. 

Lucky you, that seems to be tonight. 

Your eyes draw in the line of his jaw, the way his eyes flit over to yours, assessing you as you take in him. Your gaze runs from the light blonde, highlighted curls in his hair, to the strong shoulders, to the tapered waist. 

And then you spit out, “So should you, if you’re going to open your mouth.” 

He’s taken back, you can tell, a flicker of amusement in his eyes now at having the banter to play with. The corners of his mouth twitch in an almost smile, “Then I guess we better steer clear of one another,” He replies, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music.  You can smell laundry detergent, expensive cologne, “Two warning labels usually infer a pending explosion.” 

Keeping your distance didn’t exactly work, though. Your friends are in the same circles, and two curving lines have no choice but to eventually converge. It seems like everywhere you turn around, Nick is there. Other parties, weekends at lush spots, fighting rings, underground driving events, the list goes on and on. 

You seem stuck in this man’s orbit, this layer of so-called ‘danger’ slipping warmly into your veins and heating you up from the inside out. With every interaction, there’s still the barbed exchanges, the rolling of eyes, the quirk of lips. But you’re not sure how much of that is show—you both know how to have a good time with your set of friends, sometimes even with eachother. You’re not sure you’d call Nick a friend but…you suppose it’s better than what you were when you first met. 

As you move through the crowd of people gathered in the large, mansion-esque living room of the latest party you’re at, you do your best to find Jenna. She’s not the friend you came with, but you wanted to catch up, maybe even dance? You’re not exactly in the mood to be here tonight, so maybe that’ll open you up a bit more to having a good time. 

Turning down a hallway, you pause as you almost run into someone. A guy taller than you, eyes glassy, giving you a onceover before a grin, “Lost?” 

You sigh audibly, shaking your head, “Nope,” Voice full-American, which seems to bring a twinkle of amusement to the guy’s face, “Just headed that way.” You point towards the kitchen. 

“I can show you around,” He offers, trying to sling an arm around your shoulders, “Sounds like you might need a tour guide.” 

And boy, are you getting tired of that boring line. You get it, you’re not from London, but just because you’re American does not mean you need someone to show you around. You’ve been here for half of a year, you’re not about to call yourself a native, but you’re definitely settling in. 

“No,” You push his arm away. 

“Stop being so ungrateful,” He scoffs, taking two heavy steps forward. The movement is awkward, like his body is catching up with his brain. You’re not anticipating it, so you find yourself stumbling back, knocking into a table as he grabs your arm. 

“Get off me,” You snap, trying to yank yourself free, but this guy won’t let up. 

He’s wearing a ring on his one finger and it’s twisted in the wrong direction so that the stone actually slides against your arm when you try to create some space. It’s a quick cut, nothing you’d write home about but t’s the fact that he won’t back up, he won’t let go–

“Hey!” 

Your head snaps in the direction of the familiar voice, Nick, coming down the set of stairs near where you’re standing. He rounds the corner, reaching in one fluid movement to yank the guy off. Tall guy stumbles back, tripping over the carpet, Nick’s body suddenly standing in front of yours. 

“Are you deaf?” Nick snaps, cocking his head as if he’s really trying to understand. His body lines up at an angle, as if he’s ready for a fight and that’s the last thing you want. Your hand gently moves to the back of his shirt, a soft tug, his muscles flexing beneath your touch. 

He glances over his shoulder at you before turning his attention back to Tall guy, movements relaxing—he bends to your request. No fighting. 

Until Tall guy opens his mouth.

“Didn’t know she was going to be such a bitch about—” 

There’s barely a moment in which the sentence is finished before Nick’s fist is flying through the air. It lands on this guy’s nose and he crumbles like a house of cards. A small gasp leaves your lips, your eyes wide as blood spurts from between the guy’s fingers and Nick rolls his shoulders, turning to check you over. 

“Look at me,” He says, hand touching your arm. Your eyes snap to his and he scowls at the cut there, red and angry thanks to that guy’s ring. “C’mon, let's clean you up.” 

Nick’s hand slips down to gently clasp your own, tugging you towards the kitchen. It’s not very busy, or maybe people are clearing out at the look on Nick’s face, either way you’re glad it’s not as stifling as some of the other rooms. He scoots you backwards until your legs find a stool and you prop yourself up on it, Nick moving to grab a washcloth from one of the drawers. You watch him carefully, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. 

“You didn’t need to hit him.” 

He pauses and then turns to look at you with his eyebrows raised. A scoff tumbles forth, “I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’.” 

Now it’s your turn to look surprised, “For what? Punching someone?” 

His eyebrows draw together, amusement flickering in his eyes like a heated fire, “You have the strangest way of showing people your gratitude.” He moves towards you like a force. He’s not that much taller than you, but Nick’s the kind of person to take up space. The kind of person you step aside for. Handsome and unpredictable, just like the first day you met him. 

Blame it on the action from tonight, the leftover adrenaline shaking your body, prior experience with hands on you in ways that have not been kind, something—but when Nick reaches out and takes your arm—you flinch. 

He notices instantly, letting go and taking one step back to give you space. His eyes dance over you for a moment and you know he’s taking in the way you’ve wrapped your arms around yourself, your shoulders drawn in, the slight shaking to your hands. 

“Sorry,” He apologizes, voice a shade gentler than it was before. 

You swallow over an unspoken emotion in your throat before straightening your shoulders, eyes narrowing as you take a look at him. “I’m just saying I could have handled it.” 

He doesn’t argue with you this time, must sense you need to own that somehow, and just nods, “Can I see your arm?” 

You’re holding your arm to your chest like an injured bird does its wing, even though you’ve had worse. You’ve been through worse. Scars that you can’t see but are still there. You run your tongue over your teeth before relaxing your spine, slowly extending your arm towards him. 

Nick takes that as permission to walk back towards you and at the angle of the stool, you’re almost eye level, his body slightly between your knees as he turns your arm over in his hands. He takes the washcloth that he’s dampened and drags it across your skin. 

You close your eyes, biting down on the inside of your cheek, hating to admit what you’re about to say as your pulse slows,  “I didn’t…actually…have that handled.” You hate to think of what could have happened if Tall guy hadn’t backed off, if you couldn’t have stopped him, if no one would have thought twice to check if you were okay.

Nick doesn’t say anything though, just continues to clean the cut, his eyes trained on your skin. His thumb brushes the inside of your arm, a silent comfort, encouraging you to speak again, 

“My ex was a real jerk, put his hands on me.” You do not elaborate, but it seems like you don’t need to. Nick’s movements still a moment, his jaw working. “Not something you get used to or over quickly.” 

“Your ex is lucky he’s still in America.” He mumbles after a few breaths, his thumb still tracing back and forth over the inside of your elbow, his eyes finally meeting yours. You’re not sure why you’re surprised at what you see there. A gentleness, an anger, a protective warmth that you…maybe knew Nick was capable of but hadn’t seen firsthand. 

A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth, your hand settling on his, “Not your problem.” 

“Shouldn't be yours either.” He says, squeezing your fingers. 

There’s this moment where you can’t tear your eyes from his, that heat that’s associated with Nick winding itself around you like ivy, digging between your ribs. It’s like something magnetic, you can’t quite look away, and yet you remind yourself of what was shared between the two of you when you first met. Two warning signs, indeed, could mean some sort of explosion. 

And yet, this person right here? The one standing in front of you? You think that might be worth the risk. Someone that’s maybe just as kind and thoughtful as they are opinionated, and impulsive. Velvet over broken glass. This version is not the Nick you thought you knew…and you’re not sure what to do with that. 

“Uhm,” You clear your throat, breaking the moment, “Have you seen Jenna? I was gonna see if she wanted to dance but now I kinda want to head home. Just want to say bye.” 

He shakes his head, helping you off the stool by slipping his hand into your own. “No, but I can drive you.” 

You soothe your hand over your jeans, “You don’t have to go out of your way.” 

Nick smiles a little, the expression open, “Don’t worry about it—this party is quickly losing its appeal anyways.” 

You don’t fight him on it twice. 

—

In spite of so called ‘warning labels’—there are sometimes shared looks, quiet smiles, and a warmth that blooms as you get to know one another. Maybe that’s friction. Maybe it’s something else. 

“Swear no one hears me when I say I don’t like onions,” You crinkle your nose in the booth of a diner, pressed to the one corner, Nick across from you as Jenna and Lion share the other seats. The table is completely covered with food to share, Jenna laughing as Lion tries to steal her fries. 

There are raw onions on the burger you ordered, despite asking for it without. Before you can lift the bun to take them off, Nick reaches across the table and swaps your plates. He says nothing, doesn’t even lift his eyes to look at you—but his burger is now in front of you. Onion free. 

A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth and you can’t help the small thrill of butterflies in your chest as you add ketchup to your fries. 

—

Your parents don’t know about your ex. 

You just…never wanted to tell them what happened. Especially since it didn’t matter, you were moving to London, leaving him behind and all the problems that came with it. Maybe if they knew your mom would talk to you about what healthy relationships look like, maybe they would suggest therapy. Maybe you’d even go. Sometimes it’s hard to admit that the person who went through what happened was actually you. As if you’re a spector in your own life. 

Every so often, you deny you have emotional scars. The physical ones have long faded to healed skin. Except, scars run deep, and sometimes you’re not even aware they’re still there until they flutter to the surface. They rear their ugly heads in the most unexpected of times. 

Or maybe it shouldn’t be surprising at all. 

A glass shatters. 

Your entire body goes rigid even though Jenna is laughing and leaning into Lion over it. The sounds start to warp around you and you’re staring at the glass at the floor, as if the shards will leap into the air and perform some sort of circus act. You’re over Nick’s house with your friends, having drinks and hanging out by the pool, you’re all getting a refill and someone overreaches for a glass in a cabinet. 

“Butter fingers,” Lion teases his girlfriend, grabbing her hand to spin her close and kiss her shoulder. 

“Was an ugly glass anyways,” Giles replies, crinkling his nose. 

Your hand lingers on your chest a moment, your heart hammering under the pressure of your fingers. You try to tell yourself that it’s an accident, that you’re not in danger, that you’re not what happened to you. You talk through all that helpful language you googled that’s supposed to help center yourself when you feel like you’re on the edge of a panic attack. You remind yourself that you’ve been doing well, you’ve been coping, that past memories belong in a box in the back of your mind and that a sound isn’t strong enough to unleash them. 

But nothing helps. 

Your vision narrows and then goes glassy, fuzzy black fades in from the edges, it feels like there’s a hand around your throat, squeezing. You excuse yourself quietly for the bathroom and your friends don’t notice, which is fine, you’re not sure you’d be able to stop even if they did. 

You make a b-line for the bathroom, turning a corner too fast and bumping into—

“Whoa,” Nick’s hands come down on your shoulders. When he gets a good look at your face, his eyes widen slightly. “Hey—” His voice is soft, dipping his chin to try and catch your gaze, “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“I—” You choke out, air constricted in your throat, “I can’t—”

Nick seems to understand, gently backing you up towards the bathroom. The door doesn’t shut completely, angling towards closed, which you’re grateful for—the room doesn’t feel any smaller than it already does. Tears gather in your eyes, frustration and concern building up in your chest like a bonfire. You don’t claw at your skin, but you’ve been there, where it feels like the only way that you can possibly feel better is to peel it off your neck. Like there’s a literal barrier between you and breathing. 

You don’t even realize you’ve sat down on the closed toilet seat until Nick’s kneeling in front of you. His voice sounds like it’s underwater and he takes your hand to rest it on his chest. You can feel the beat of his heart under your fingertips, the steady intake of air as he speaks again.

He keeps repeating the same phrase as tears spill down your cheeks, “Copy me.” 

“Wh-what?” You stutter out, his words suddenly coming in sharp, clear. 

His other hand, the one not holding your hand on his chest, cups your cheek, brushing tears away with his thumb. He curls your hair around your ear, fingers resting against your neck. 

“Breathe with me,” Nick’s voice is patient, squeezing your fingers, his thumb working back and forth along your knuckles, giving you something to concentrate on. “In—” He draws breath into his lungs, then, “Out—” He whispers, letting it go. 

You copy, barely, chest aching. It comes out as a gasp. 

“Good,” He nods, “Again.” He waits. “Again.” He soothes, “Again.” 

Until it becomes easier, until it doesn’t feel like your entire chest is caving in. The hyperventilating slows, your eyes slide shut, your pulse calms in your throat. You don’t open your eyes until the dull roar disappears in your ears, Nick’s thumb still moving calming circles against your knuckles, your neck. 

Your gaze eventually meets his brown ones, concerned as they trace your face. His hand moves again, the one on your neck, cupping your cheek and removing another tear track. 

“There you are,” He says softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I got you.” 

You swallow over what feels like glass in your throat, your fingers still holding onto his t-shirt against his chest like a lifeline. You don’t often get panic attacks like that, but when they come? They drive through you with the force of a freight train. 

“Can I get you anything?” 

You blink, trying to figure out if you do, in fact, need something. A glass of water might be nice, but you don’t want him to move, the weight of him against your legs grounding in a way you can’t explain. 

You decide on shaking your head, your hand eventually falling from his chest to rest in your lap. His hand follows yours, brushing his thumb along your knee. 

“They always come on fast like that?” 

You shake your head, “Sometimes I think they’re completely gone, they just—pop up out of nowhere.” You sniffle, curling your hair around your ear. You have no idea why your cheeks flush in embarrassment, but they do, to let someone see where you’re struggling the most. Where you feel the most vulnerable. 

But when your eyes meet Nick’s, there’s no judgement there. Just a soft gaze, open, waiting. 

“A glass fell in the kitchen, broke and—my ex used to throw things when he got pissed off. The sound, it just—” You’re not sure you have to explain, hoping it’s enough.

Nick’s face is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes—a dangerous sort of calm that you wouldn’t wish on anyone. He traces his thumb around your knee. 

“Sounds like a real tool.” 

The comment is so out of pocket that a laugh bubbles up in your chest and you nod, “He was. Sometimes I feel like relationships are just always meant to end messy, one way or another.” Or maybe you’ve convinced yourself, somehow, that you don’t deserve something good. You put yourself out there with your ex, and look at what happened. 

Nick shakes his head, holding your gaze when he says, “Not all of them.” 

There’s a small thrill that works its way into your chest, something weighted in the way he says it. You chew on your lower lip, Nick’s eyes slipping to your mouth, and you’re suddenly reminded of time you’ve spent together. While you have the same friends, you’re not sure if you’d consider that to define your relationship. And yet here he is, on his knees in front of you, making sure you’re alright. 

“Thought it was best we steer clear of one another,” You repeat his suggestion from the first time you met but your voice is teasing. “Pending explosions and all.” 

Nick stands and your head tips back to look at him. He seems to give it careful thought, his pursing lips making a soft laugh leave your lips. “Think I can handle a little danger—can’t you?” 

You find yourself nodding and take his hand when it’s offered, tugging you up off the toilet to head back out to your friends. 

—

Nick spends the night checking in with you—it’s not so much words he uses, but its eyes dancing over your form, it’s a tentative hand on your lower back, it’s making you laugh—long and hard, it’s picking you up over his shoulder and jumping into the pool with you, it’s your lips brushing when you float to the surface when he’s grinning. 

It’s like he’s suddenly everywhere, not just here at his place, but over the next few weeks that you end up spending time with one another. A hand brush here and there, a shared grin, hushed laughter and an ease and comfortability that was not there before. 

A so-called ‘warning label’ begins to fizzle down to its base form—what it actually is.

Attraction. And that’s not something that feels so hazardous anymore. 

—

You love dancing. You’re not altogether good at it, but that doesn’t matter. After enough to drink, the alcohol buzzing like warm bees in your system, with your friends around you, the lure of letting off steam and feeling comfortable in your veins just overwhelms you. 

The club that you end up at is a typical haunt on a Saturday night, your smile bright as you wrap your arms around your best friend from behind. Jenna laughs nearby, turning to smack a kiss to Lion’s cheek. Nick brings back a tray of shots for everyone and you take yours eagerly, tipping it back. 

When you set the glass down, Nick has his eyes on you, a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. He's dressed in a black t-shirt, and you can’t help but sneak a peek at his biceps, how well he fills out the fabric. His long sleeve shirt is gone somewhere, maybe where everyone was once sitting before. He looks comfortable, like you could curl up against him, like his arms could lift you up—

“Enjoying the view?” He asks over the music, leaning closer. 

You shiver, refusing to show how much a simple question has an impact on you. Because yes, you were. 

You shrug, “It’s not bad. I’m still deciding.” 

He steps closer, into your space, his hand sliding down your arm and when he speaks this time; his lips brush your ear. “Anything I can do to influence that decision?” 

This time you can’t hide your body’s reaction, you know that Nick feels it, his fingers brushing over goosebumps that appear on your forearm. You hate the smug look on his face as he pulls away, so you decide the only distraction that’ll work at this point is tugging him onto the dance floor. You turn your arm in his hand, sliding up until your palms meet. 

“You can dance with me.” 

Nick smiles, following you onto the floor,  your friends following. It’s a small circle of moving bodies, and despite the nerves that are skittering along your nerves like spiders, you let yourself slip into the music. It’s some sort of bouncy electronic bop that you know well and you find yourself singing along to the chorus as you dance along to it. You can’t help but laugh as Nick grabs your hand and spins you, angling his body closer to yours. There’s a swaying motion, his hands ending up on your hips. 

He squeezes; a question in his eyes, if it’s alright to put his hands on you like this. Because it’s slightly more intimate than small, insignificant touches you’ve shared before. You’re overwhelmed by the gesture, that despite how close you’ve gotten, he still wants to make sure it’s okay. That permission means everything to you. 

You respond with a grin, your arms wrapping around his neck, keeping him close. And you’re inseparable for the rest of the night. 

—

Nick has a driver pick you all up so no one has to worry about driving. There’s a few minutes outside the club, waiting on the pavement. When you wrap your arms around yourself, a slight breeze causing a chill down your spine, he slides off the long-sleeve shirt he came in and drapes it over your shoulders. The warmth of his body lingers and you draw the fabric over your hands, breathing in the scent of his cologne. 

When an SUV arrives, you end up sharing a row with him. The sway of driving rocks you gently, your eyes slipping closed as your head rests back against the seat, and when you wake up at your place, you’re tucked under Nick’s arm along his side. 

—

Nick hands you a book in passing, something that he had tucked away in his car as you’re about to get into Jenna’s to leave the underground driving circle. It’s so unexpected and somehow odd in a place like this that you kinda blink. Your fingers brush as the book transfers from one palm to another. 

“Thought you might like this,” He says. 

It’s well-read, obviously by him. And it’s something so simple, saying ‘I thought of you’, ‘I think about you’, ‘you’d like this’—something your ex never did. 

He never thought about you. Not like that. Not gently. Not with concern and affection. Not in a way that mattered, that made you feel good. 

You look down at the title, a small smile tugging the corners of your lips—The Things They Carried. Somehow it’s fitting. 

“You think about me?” You ask, voice teasing, holding the book to your chest. 

Nick grins, “Hard not to.” 

And before he can back away, you wrap your fingers in his shirt and pull him close, tipping your head up to kiss him. 

It’s everything you ever thought it might be. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before he cups both sides of your face, angling the movement down, tongue teasing the seam of your lips. His body presses against yours but it fits perfectly, lines up with your own, as if something was missing beforehand that you were unaware of. 

“Thank you,” You whisper after a moment, against his mouth. “For the book.” 

Nick licks his lips, his thumb brushing over your lower one. “Definitely have more recommendations if this is the general reaction.” 

And well, you’ve always been a reader. 

—

“Oh come on,” You chew on your lower lip, “Pancakes all the way.” 

Nick scoffs something far too attractive, crinkling his nose as he heats up the waffle iron. “Knew there had to be something wrong with you, after all this time, just didn’t know it was gonna be this.” 

You toss a blueberry at him and he, annoyingly, catches it, popping it into his mouth with a grin. He points a spatula at you. 

“How have you lived a life thinking pancakes are superior to waffles? This an American thing?” 

“This is an ‘I’m right’ thing.” You toss back, looking at all the different combinations of sweets that can go on or in these pancakes (or waffles). “The ridges in waffles make it difficult to spread butter evenly.” 

Nick licks his lips, his finger tracing the handle of the spatula as he turns pancakes over in the pan. He adds batter to the waffle iron. “Not if you try hard enough.” 

You shake your head, amusement skittering along your spine as you can’t help but look down at his hands. He’s wearing two rings today, something comfortable and simple. But the only thing it does is highlight the shape of them, gorgeous, like they were made to play an instrument. 

“I think you’re just trying to infer that you’re good with your hands.” 

“What was that about my hands?” He raises his eyebrows, voice impossibly warm like dripping honey. 

He sets two finished pancakes on a plate and flips the flame off under the pan. He leans against the counter as he looks at you, something molten slipping from your stomach to between your legs as you hold his gaze. 

“You heard what I said.” 

Nick wanders over, encroaching on your space in the best way. He tilts his head down a little, brushing his lips over yours as he lifts you onto the counter in one even swoop. 

You can’t help but grin, your hands settling on his shoulders as he slips between your legs. 

“Sounds like you’re going to need a hands-on demonstration.” 

“I can’t believe you said that with a straight face.” But your laugh comes out as a whimper as Nick’s fingers press against the center of you, an easy target given how you’ve splayed your legs to accommodate his body, the fabric of your leggings leaving nothing to imagination. 

“Oh,” Nick whispers against your lips, amusement dancing across his handsome features as he begins to move his thumb, “Maybe you don’t need a demonstration at all.” 

And this asshole actually dares to move his hand, as if he’s giving up the suggestion. You clamp your knees together as best you can, his body in the way, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as his hand becomes trapped between your thighs. 

“Don’t you dare.” You mumble against his mouth.

“Is that a threat?” He nips at your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth at the same time his hand encourages your thighs to open to give him room. He pushes into the waistband of your leggings, a smirk decorating his mouth as you scooch closer to the edge of the counter. A shiver skitters down your spine at the feel of the cold metal of his rings brushing against heated skin. 

You hate giving him the satisfaction of any noises leaving your mouth but at a certain point, it becomes undeniable. And he knows that. You swear that having him like this is something you’re never going to get used to, despite that things are still new between you two. His thumb drags over your clit, one finger slipping into you, your back bowing a little when he adds another. 

“That’s it,” He leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as he picks up the pace. It doesn’t take much, he’s so precise with his fingers, leaning into every tell your body has, reading you like an open book every time you make a sound. 

When his tongue travels over your pulse point and his thumb pays close attention to your clit, tight even circles, you don’t stand a chance. Pleasure snaps like a band, your body clamping down on his fingers. You lean up to drape yourself over him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, tucking your face in his neck. 

The arm that’s free slides along your back, brushing up and under your shirt, running his fingers along your spine and you press a kiss to his shoulder, threading your fingers through his hair. You tug on his curls, just a little, just to arch his head back a bit. 

He smiles up at you, eyes dark, lower lip wet from biting it, a visible strain in his sweatpants. You open your mouth to reply, to offer reciprocation, but then smoke in your periphery catches your attention. 

“Shit,” He mumbles, pulling away from you to turn the waffle iron off. You wince a little but a small laugh bubbles up in your chest, leftover butterflies in your stomach, cheeks warm, body feeling far too empty. 

“Can’t believe the waffles burned.” You comment lightly, running a hand through your hair. 

Nick glances at you, a small smile on his face, mischief lighting up his brown eyes. He tugs you forward, but this time, he’s got the fabric of your leggings between his fingers, yanking them off. 

“S’alright,” He replies, spreading your legs again, intending to sink his head between them, “Think I’m more of a pancakes guy anyways.” 

—

Nick is nothing like your ex, there is no place where the two converge. Period. 

—

You hate that Nick fights in the ring. Sometimes there’s gloves, other times there’s bare fists. You hate the blood and the bruises and the fact that fucking Lion bets on him like he’s a winning horse. Most of the time you can’t even watch. Like tonight. You wait in the car, everyone headed back to Nick’s afterwards to debrief, to let off steam. 

You can tell he’s pissed the moment he gets into the driver’s seat. 

There’s lines pulling his face, his shoulders tight and the muscle in his jaw feathering. There’s a bruise starting along his jawline, cuts on his cheek. You squeeze your eyes shut and your fingers dig into the plush leather. 

You don’t ask how it went because you already know. 

When you make it into his kitchen, leaning against the counter, you watch as he paces a moment, stewing, his hands shaking as he looks over at Lion. 

“It wasn’t called at the right fucking time.” 

“It was,” Lion says evenly, “The refs—”

“The fucking refs are fucked,” He snaps, his voice echoing in the space. You swear you can hear the glass in the cabinets tremble, “He threw a punch after the bell rung. What’s the point of doing any of this if it’s not going to be fair?” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be doing it at all,” You mumble, arms crossed over your chest. It’s quiet, but you can tell the moment that he hears you. His entire body goes still before he turns and rolls his shoulders, like he’s still in the ring. Like he’s itching for a fight. 

“That’s cheap coming from you, isn’t it? You won’t even step through the doors to support me.” 

Your mouth falls open at the same time Jenna hisses Nick, your response only serving to amp him up even further. 

“I’m not going to go in there and you know it.” You know why, is what you actually want to say, but you don’t give him that satisfaction. You’re calling him out on his bullshit well enough. 

Besides, you’re not the one he’s really mad at, he’s just taking his frustrations out on you. But before you can tell him how fucked up that is, Lion pipes up with a —

“You’re gonna have to fight him again, a re-match.” 

Nick explodes, the kind that he warned you about the first night you met, his arm snapping out and striking items on the kitchen counter. It’s not glass, but the reaction you have is the same. A plastic fruit bowl spins and hits the cabinets, oranges rolling out of it, a set of papers flutter to the floor like birds, and something cracks loudly against a chair, someone’s iPhone maybe. 

It doesn’t matter what it is because you go rigid, eyes wide as you stare at the items on the floor. He runs both of his hands through his hair, his gaze finding your face when you let out a short breath out of your mouth, attempting to unhook your shoulders from your ears. Nick looks at the floor and then back to you, muttering shit under his breath. 

He takes a step towards you, “Y/N,” and you mimic one back, keeping space between you. A defense mechanism but it doesn’t stop that look from sliding onto his face, regret replacing anger, concern replacing frustration. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Nick says, voice pinched, “I’m sorry—I didn’t—”

You shake your head, putting your hand up so he stops talking. You need space, you need to go outside and take a breath. You slip out of the kitchen towards the pool and Nick must try to follow you because you hear Jenna stop him in his tracks— just leave her alone for a little while, man.  

He’ll come find you though. He always does.

—

You debate leaving but end up sitting by the pool instead. Your legs are drawn up against your chest, fingers dragging through the water, chin resting on one of your knees. You hear and feel him more than see him come out onto the pool deck. 

“Can I join you?” He asks, hovering. 

You know that if you told him no he’d respect that, he’d listen.. But you can’t, even though a small part of you wishes you could. You nod softly, not looking at him, waiting for him to slide down beside you. He’s facing you, one leg in the pool, one curled up underneath him. He smells like clean soap, fresh clothes—he must have showered and changed to give you some time. You ache to run your fingers through his damp curls, to touch him somehow. But you don’t. 

It’s quiet for a while, just the sound of your shared breathing and your fingers gliding through the water. 

Nick clears his throat, “I have a temper, I’ve always had it.” Since his mom, are the unspoken words. “Despite how hard I try to bury it…it seems to always find its way to the surface.” His voice is soft, gentle, as if he’s afraid he might spook you, that you might run. “It’s why I’m good at racing or fighting.”  

You know this, you know he has an anger inside of him that sprouts like weeds, recognizes it in him like you did your ex…even though they are not the same, will never be the same. Nick has talked to you about his mom countless times, you’ve met her and Maddie and know that they’re working on their relationship. They’re in a good place, despite the emotions that Nick still feels sometimes. Maybe they’ll always be there. 

He tentatively reaches for your hand, and when you allow him to touch you, he tugs your laced fingers to rest in his lap. He traces circles around your knuckles, “Look at me.” 

You breathe out through your nose, turning your gaze away from the pool and meeting his eyes. You’re struck by him, always have been, you think. Ever since you ran into him at that party. There must be a soft pout to your lips because he brushes his other thumb along the corner of your mouth.

“It’s not something I’m particularly proud of. But I know I don’t want to see that look on your face ever again.” He shakes his head, ripping his gaze from yours, as if he’s embarrassed. You know what he’s talking about. Fear. What must have been on your face—it’s not something that can be helped, no matter how much you’ve been working on it.

“Not because of me.” 

You swallow over a lump in your throat over that, over the fact that Nick, at the core of his being, wants to protect you. Despite his rough demeanor, despite the fact that he sometimes leads too much with his fists or can have a nasty set of words for someone, he’s good deep down. Something your ex never was. 

You squeeze his hand back, reaching out to touch his cheek. You angle his face up, running your thumb over his cheekbone, 

You don’t say that it’s okay, because it’s not, but you do want him to know, “I trust you.” You say after a moment. It is not something you give easily, something that’s definitely earned. And Nick has. He holds your gaze after that, a soft nod, turning his chin into your palm. His nose and lips brush the love line on your hand and he presses a kiss there. 

“C’mere.” He whispers, encouraging you closer, to sit on his lap. You fold into him easily, as if you’ve always fit there. 

–

There’s a long sigh out of your mouth as you move from your spot on the couch to get the front door when there’s a series of knocks. You kinda hope it’ll go away, but your parents aren’t home to check. There’s a twinge in your nose and a headache building behind your eyes, the worst head cold you’ve had for a while. Exhausted, slightly nauseous, throat sore, and kinda ready to throw hands at whoever is making you answer the front door when you could be passed out on a bunch of pillows and blankets. 

“Coming!” You call out, rubbing your throat, “Sheesh.” 

Without looking at the small video monitor for security set up next to the door, you yank it open, getting ready to give whoever is selling something a piece of your mind. But then you stop, blinking, because it’s—

“What are you doing here?” Your voice croaks, Nick wincing at the sound. 

He’s in a pair of sweats, a white t-shirt, and oversized jacket, a pair of sunglasses pushed up into his curls as he takes a look at you. Your cheeks are flushed thanks to being sick, but you feel like your fever has kicked up a notch under the careful inspection. You have no idea what you look like, but you can guess it’s a mess. 

“Jenna said you weren’t feeling well,” He steps forward and when he does you notice he’s got a paper bag in his hand. “Though I’m wondering why you didn’t tell me that yourself.” 

You rub the back of your neck—you really just…didn’t want to be a burden. “I didn’t want you to get sick.” Is what you say instead, which isn’t exactly a lie. 

“Well,” Nick hums, brushing his fingers through your hair, “Lucky for you, I have an impeccable immune system.” 

You crinkle your nose, fit to argue with him, but the moment you open your mouth, you turn and sneeze. A small smirk sounds from Nick when you groan. “Bless you.” 

You straighten your shoulders, rubbing some of your fingers against your temple as you turn to look at Nick. You want to tell him that it’s not necessary, that he doesn’t need to do anything extra for you, regardless that he’s here already. But at the same time, you also know he’s stubborn—he’s not going anywhere. And what’s the harm of allowing someone to take care of you? 

Your ex never would have showed up like this. The moment you’d let him know you were sick, he’d make a joke to keep a distance. Maybe that’s why, subconsciously, you never even thought to let your current boyfriend know you were struggling. 

“You better have a miracle cure in that bag,” You tease, the lightness in your voice covered by congestion. “I’d settle for tissues.” 

Nick reaches into the bag and pulls out a whole box. A whole box of tissues that have lotion in them. He gives you a small, knowing smile. 

“Did I mention you’re my favorite person?” You ask, snagging the box. You open it up, taking some tissues out. 

Nick breezes past you with a kiss to your temple, “I know—but reminders are always appreciated.” 

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. 

Not only does this man make you soup, and make sure you have cold-relief meds, but in that paper bag of wonders he has one of those heatable stuffed animals, the ones that you can put in the microwave and smell like lavender (if you could breathe through your nose). You settle into the couch, the half-eaten soup on the coffee table as a movie plays in the background. You’ve kind of lost the plot, your eyes falling closed as you’re surrounded by some pillows and blankets, the warmed-up stuffed fox pressed to your abdomen. Nick’s seated in the corner of the couch, arm stretched out along the back—you’ve been trying to keep your distance but…god, he really looks comfortable.

He smiles a little in soft amusement, as if he can read your mind, his eyes sliding over to yours. His lips quirk, tilting his head a bit in his direction, 

“C’mon.” 

You shake your head, “I really don’t—” 

“Get over here,” He interrupts, leaning over to wrap his arm around your waist and tug until you're pressed against his side. You don’t fight it, a shiver wracking down your spine as you settle against him. “Cold?” 

You nod, fitting against his side, underneath his arm, tucking your face into his shoulder. You wish you could breathe him in, that comforting scent of his expensive cologne mixed with something that’s just purely him. He helps you adjust the blanket, his hand settling on your thigh with a gentle squeeze. His other hand threads his fingers through your hair in a way that’s meant to put you to sleep. 

“You’re gonna get sick.” You mumble, eyes fluttering closed. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t worry about me.” 

But you do. And he does. 

But it’s nice being able to take care of him too. 

—

Sometimes you sleep over. It’s one of those things that happen naturally—hanging out with friends, messing around in the pool, playing darts near the garage, coming back from a party, curled up watching a movie. Tonight is no different, except you’re a little drunk. You sit down on the edge of the bed, the room spinning slightly, Nick passing you a t-shirt of his to tug on. You love how it lays on you, the fabric unbelievably soft. 

He lingers in front of you, a smirk on his lips, tipping your chin up and leaning down just enough to brush a kiss over your temple, “You need help?” 

You let out a long, dramatic sigh that flutters your lips. It turns into a slight pout, “I need a kiss.”

Nick hums, his eyes appraising you, “Yeah? Where at?” 

And you hate how that makes you squirm. You squeeze your legs together, an action not missed by him, before pointing to your cheek. He licks his lips, crouching to press one right where you’ve requested. His fingers curl under your shirt, lifting it off in one fluid motion. He crouches before you, hands on your knees, waiting. 

You smile a little, skin warm, pointing to your shoulder blade. He follows through and you can’t stop yourself from running your fingers through his hair, his hands moving to splay along your waist, squeezing. That heat between your legs dips, tugs, hums. 

“Where else?” 

“I’ve definitely got some ideas but could you tell the room to stop spinning for a second?” 

Nick smiles, fingers moving to the button on your jeans. “Can I take these off?” 

Always with the permission. Always with making sure you’re okay. It’s something that’s so deeply important to you, something you’ve never told him. And yet he knows. 

“Need you to help me out,” He undoes the button and you stand on wobbly legs, hand holding onto his shoulder for support. He slides them off and tosses towards a chair in the corner. You sit back down, running your hands over your face, which probably smears your makeup ridiculously. 

You touch to the right of your belly button, “Here please.” 

Nick smiles, shaking his head a little. “Only because you were so polite.” 

You bite down on your tongue when he does it, when he kisses you there, swallowing the cheeky response that you know he’d do it anyways. 

He slips lower, kissing the side of your knee without you asking. Just because he wants to. He then leans back on his heels, giving you a onceover before taking the shirt he handed you, helping to slide it over your arms. Pressing a few kisses to your cheeks, mostly just to make you laugh, he pulls away. 

There’s definitely an audible whine you’ll deny making later. 

“I’m getting a washcloth for your face,” He laughs softly too, taking your hand to squeeze, “Get your makeup off.” 

You shake your head—wow, how’d you get so lucky? 

“Think it’s the other way around.” He assures you as he heads to his bathroom and you blink—apparently you said that outloud. 

As you wash the makeup off your face, Nick changes out of his clothes, a simple t-shirt and briefs. He tugs down the comforter and helps you under the covers, tugging them back up to your chin. It’s one of those moments that feels so intimate that your chest hurts a little. You lie on your side, not facing him, and he hooks his chin over your shoulder. 

“You okay?” He whispers, arm sliding around your waist. Your fingers lace together in an easy motion. 

“Perfect.” You reply, already dozing. By the time he turns the light out, you’re fast asleep. 

—

It’s one of those parties in which you can’t keep your hands off eachother. 

Nick’s obviously a tactile person, he talks but he says more with his actions, with his touch. A possessive hand on your waist, a protective arm around your back, a brush of a kiss to your temple, a cheeky nip of your lower lip. You can read him like a secret language, a message whispered in the dark. And you love that you can so easily reply in kind. A hand sneaking up and under his jacket to rest on his toned back, slipping your fingers into his back pocket to grab his ass, hooking your ankle around his under a table, a kiss to his cheek when you’re excited, his hair when he falls asleep on your chest. 

Tonight is no different. 

You separate for one instance so you can head to the bathroom and when you come out, you bump into someone who is waiting. 

“Shit sorry,” You apologize with a smile before raising your eyebrows. The guy you practically checked shoulders with is holding a book. A book at a party. And like, no judgement, obviously, but…it’s really the last thing you expected. 

“No worries,” He’s tall and kinda lanky, but soft looking, attractive in his own way. He smiles down at you, a sheepish hand rubbing the back of his neck as he catches you looking at his book. “Summer classes,” He admits, “Organic chem.” 

“Gross,” You offer with a soft laugh and he grins. 

“Yeah, not exactly party material. I’m trying to relax but uh, not the best at it.” 

“Well I’d put down the chemistry book, for starters.” You smile and you can tell he’s about to open his mouth and ask for something, maybe to offer to get you a drink, maybe something else. You’ll never know because you see Nick just past where this guy is standing. 

His gaze is set on you, never looking away once, but you can tell he must have noticed this guy towering over you because an arm slides around your waist, hand squeezing your hip. A clear message to anyone who might be confused. 

“Was wondering where you went.” And you raise your eyebrows at that, as if he doesn’t know you went to the bathroom. 

“Well you found me.” When Nick turns to look at you, there’s a heat to his eyes that almost takes your breath away. You can’t help but gaze back, like the darkness that you find is capable of pulling you under, under. 

Tall guy lets out an awkward laugh, snapping his textbook closed. “Well just gonna—” He motions to the bathroom but Nick takes a step towards it with you in tow, pressing you towards the doorframe and then steps in front, effectively blocking your body with his own. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna need to find another bathroom,” He tells him, leaning his palms against the doorframe. A soft laugh bubbles up in your chest as you lean against the sink, running a hand along the side of your face. 

Textbook guy blinks, makes an uh noise with his lips—and when he just stands there looking confused, Nick snaps out, “Fuck off.” 

And slams the door in his face. 

Your hand covers your mouth as Nick turns, taking measured steps towards you as you lean back against the sink. Feels sturdy enough—it’s one of those built-in counter ones, plenty of space for toiletries. 

“Textbook guy was nice, you know?” You inform him, a smirk mapping your lips as Nick leans in, encroaching on your space. He encourages you to lean back a little as he cages your body with his own, arms on either side of you. 

He whispers into your ear, “I don’t care.” 

When he pulls back a bit, your noses brush and you lift your hand to play with a curl on his forehead. Amusement sits on your tongue, heat between your legs, “Didn’t know you could get jealous.” 

Nick’s gaze lands on your lips. You expect him to deny it, but instead he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, dragging it out, nipping at your lower lip with his teeth. Then he kisses you completely, slotting his own body along your own, tongue sliding into your mouth. The moment you moan is when he sinks his hands into your hair, keeping you close. Your own glide down his sides, digging into the fabric of his jeans, tugging—

A sharp noise, a groan from the back of his throat, sets little electric zips along your skin. 

You can feel the hardness of him against your hip and breathing patterns change, just a little uneven, pulling back so that your lips fall to his neck. Your hand wanders, one destination, undoing his jeans so that you can slip inside. 

“So,” You whisper, tilting your head back, getting a good look at him. Your fingers wrap around him, beginning to palm his cock. His pupils are blown as he licks his lips—you can feel the twitch of his hips, driving him a bit forward. Your thumb works at the bead of moisture at his tip, back and forth, down along him. 

You smile, “Yes to being jealous?”

His hand slips around the back of your neck, squeezing a little, gathering a bit of your hair in the process. It’s barely a tug, barely any pain, and yet heat shocks down your spine, settling in your core. 

“Of anyone who makes you laugh like that.” 

And for some reason that reaches into the center of your chest and squeezes. You can’t find the words to reply. So you don’t. 

Luckily both of you are both attune at speaking without saying anything at all. 

Your other hand rests on the side of his face, your thumb brushing over his lips before kissing him again. 

It doesn’t take long after that. Nick helps gets his jeans down, peeling your skirt up, practically ripping your underwear to get them out of his fucking way. He presses you back against the sink, it’s not the most comfortable—the edge is biting into your muscles, but at this point it just adds to the pleasure that’s already building in your lower belly. He lifts your leg a little, holding you, sliding forward until his cock brushes against your entrance. 

“Nick,” You moan and that one word has him pushing inside. 

Your head tips forward, forehead ending up on his shoulder, rolling your hips until he’s completely inside of you. It’s not as drawn out as you want, but you know it’s only a matter of time until someone comes knocking on this bathroom. You hike your leg up a little more, encouraging him deeper as he moves, as much as you can at this angle. It’s too fast, a little too hard, and the movements are a little too desperate. 

But fuck if that stops you from cumming hard. 

The moment Nick’s mouth finds your neck and sucks while his one hand not holding you slips between, fingers circling your clit, you lose it. 

Your body clenches around him and you bury your face in his shoulder, clinging to him as ripples of pleasure slam into you. Your fingers dig into his back and there’s two more thrusts forward until Nick loses himself as well, a soft tremble following as both of you breathe one another in, wait for pulses to slow, for breathing to settle. 

He pulls back slightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, curling your hair around your ear. A soft smile tugs the corner of your mouth and you slowly turn a bit to face yourself in the mirror. 

Jesus. You’re really not fooling anyone—you look utterly wrecked. Your hair is mussed, face flushed, and you attempt to fix a bit of yourself as Nick cleans himself up and grabs a washcloth on the shower cabinet near the mirror. He dampens it in the sink before crouching, cleaning up your inner thighs. You let out a slow breath as he drags the fabric along your cunt, gentle and yet tortuous. 

Nick licks his lips, looking at you in the mirror, settling his chin on your shoulder. You find his gaze in the reflection, his one hand coming up and resting on the side of your neck. His thumb brushes a blooming hickey near your pulse point. His eyes never leave yours, 

“In case there’s any further confusion for anyone.” 

When you run into the textbook guy again later that night, Nick’s arm draped lazily over your shoulders as he talks to Lion, your boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind this time around when you ask him with a teasing lilt how organic chem is going. 

He zeros in on your neck right away, and Nick fucking smirks. 

—

Maybe the warning labels, the explosion, the danger you both once spoke of isn't exactly what you assumed. It's not that you'd end up being bad for one another, or somehow get in the other's way. It's not the underground fighting ring or the racing or past trauma with your ex. It's something deeper, emotionally grounded, something that's capable of taking you out right at your knees. You knew love had teeth, you just didn't realize you could be devoured by it. 

The way you care about Nick bites into you and doesn't let go. 

You're quiet as you clean up the tiny cuts on Nick's knuckles, using a bit too much antiseptic but not relishing in the way he winces. You can't meet his gaze, even though you know he's trying to capture yours. Seated side by side on the edge of his bed, you let out a long breath before setting the bloody cotton ball aside and grabbing another. 

Stupid re-match that Lion set up. Nick won, but that's not really the point. 

You waited outside in the car, eventually getting out to pace, leaning back against the driver's door until they all came out. A split lip, a blackening mark underneath his eye on his cheekbone, bruised ribs and cut-up knuckles. 

You hate this. You hate it so fucking much. You're practically buzzing with this anger but know better than to speak. Nick seems to know better too, because he's utterly still beside you. Curling your hair around your ear, you set another used cotton ball aside—you can’t use bandages on these small cuts. They’re not that bad, he doesn’t need any, and yet…leaving them open like this makes your chest ache. You can’t patch them up, but…maybe an ice pack wouldn’t hurt. For his ribs at least. 

When you move to stand, Nick’s fingers gently wrap around your wrist, a silent plea not to move. You close your eyes, can feel yourself trembling—

It’s not so much the blood. It’s seeing him hurt. It fucking guts you. Even though he’s okay, you know he’s okay. It doesn’t make it any easier. 

“I really wish you’d stop doing this,” You eventually say, your words sounding too loud in the silence. Too choked. That anger from before unfortunately fizzles out into the real emotion it was hiding: concern. “All—all it takes is one wrong hit and—” You sniffle, cutting yourself off. 

Nick lets out a long sigh through his nose before a gentle nod follows. He inches himself closer to you on the bed, until your knees bump together, his hand wrapping along the back of your neck. Despite wanting to pull away, wanting to create distance, he encourages you to lean into him. You relent as if it’s not the easiest thing you’ve ever done, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. 

He tips his chin down, his face burying itself in your hair, and he keeps you close until you stop shaking. 

–

That’s the last fight Nick’s in, he tells Lion not to involve him in any others. 

–

Admittedly, cars have never really been your thing. You admire them, you appreciate the work that some people put into them, or how much someone is willing to pay to enhance them, but they’ve never been something to spend your own money on. You upkeep the Jeep that your parents bought you on your eighteenth birthday, and that’s always been enough. 

Nick though? He loves his cars. Has a full garage of them. A collector, an enthusiast, and you love that about him. One of the many things. Love that you can learn something new about something he’s clearly passionate about. 

He’s got a love-hate relationship with your Jeep though. 

“She’s ol’reliable.” 

Nick just crinkles his nose. 

“Don’t look down on Donna like that.”

“Please do not call your jeep that.” 

You giggle, “Donna is timeless.” 

“Donna sounds like an old bitty who’s been working too long at the corner diner. She smells like grease and has menus sticking to her hands.” 

Now you laugh something bold and bright and it twitches the corners of Nick’s mouth. “Hater.” 

He pulls you into a kiss, pressing your back against the door of your Jeep. He certainly trusts it enough for that. 

Though, this is what you get for calling your Jeep ‘dependable’ and ‘reliable’, speaking too soon when she conks out on the side of the road. You attempt to restart her a few times but finally groan and give up, slipping out of the driver’s seat. You’ve put a lot of money into her but…Nick’s freaky car-sense about her is right—not ol’reliable in the least. 

Pursing your lips, you press on Nick’s name, listening to the line trill. He picks up on the third ring, “What’s wrong?” 

You purse your lips, “I can’t just call you because I miss you?” 

Nick hums, “Donna died, didn’t she.” It is not a question. 

You scoff out a sound, “You gotta make it sound so final like that?” 

He sighs but you can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks, fabric rustling in your ear as well. You picture him in bed, maybe reading, getting up to get his shoes. “Where are you?” 

You drop a pin and it doesn’t take him too long to get to your location. You hear the rumble of an engine before you see him, a sleek red car pulling up beside poor Donna. A tow truck is not far behind and you smile sweetly at your boyfriend as the door pops up and Nick steps out. 

“Hate to break it to you but I think it’s time for Donna to visit the car lot in the sky.” 

Your lips form a pout and Nick smirks out a soft laugh, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. He presses a brief kiss to your lips, turning to watch as the tow truck parks behind Donna and begins to wheel her into place. 

He stretches his arm over your shoulders, drawing you close to brush another kiss to your temple, “C’mon,” He motions towards his car, “I’m sure she’ll be well taken care of.”

“You’re probably hoping they’ll take her to a scrap lot and squish her with one of those car crushers.” 

“I would never.” 

He places his hands on your shoulders, encouraging you forward until you get inside the passenger door. He closes it behind you, slipping into the driver’s seat. A dramatic sigh leaves your lips as you lean back into the seat, the smell of expensive leather and his cologne comforting, despite leaving Donna behind. You rest your head back against the headrest, a small smile on your face as your eyes drink in his profile. 

“Where can we go?” You’re not in the mood to go home. 

Nick turns his head to look at you, a gentle smile, his one hand on the wheel while the other rests on your knee. “Anywhere.” 

You can’t help but smile back—you love the sound of that. 

[transforming-transformer]

Call Me Chad

Charlie never thought that a beautiful girl like Rachel would show any real interest in a geek like him, but to use him just to get to Jack? His dumb musclehead roommate who he also had to tutor to get paid enough by his football coach? He felt heartbroken, trying to find the right words to say to her to not leave him. 

“I just can’t see a future between us, especially if you’re not hot like Jack,” Rachel said, as Jack wrapped his arm around her slender waist.

“Bro, she’ll never continue dating a nerdy loser like you,” Jack scoffed, cutting Charlie off.

The small, twig-like nerd lips quivered and his reddened eyes burst into tears as he ran out of the frat party, only to be caught by a few of Jack’s douchebag posse to be stripped till he was completely naked and eventually dunked into the swimming pool. It left him embarrassed, vulnerable and overwhelmed, as he was surrounded by pompous, superficial jerks that kept laughing and sneering at him. All of it turned his shame and guilt into anger and vengeance—

———

“CHARLIE! Wake up, man. The library’s gonna close in half an hour.”

Charlie woke up disgruntled and deeply frustrated. Fuck, he’d dreamt about the set-up. Again. It’d been a few weeks since he got dumped, and it still consumed his mind like crazy. He rubbed his eyes softly and looked up to see his good friend William waving his hand in front of Charlie’s face. 

“Hey, you okay? You’ve been dozing off quite a bit during study group,” William asked, looking concerned.

Charlie sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I’m awake. Just…”

“The set-up?” William replied. Charlie froze.

“Was it that obvious?” 

“Charlie, it’s the only thing that’s been on your mind for three months, and with the way things happened, I wouldn’t blame you for being so fixated on it,” William rubbed Charlie’s back caringly as he spoke, his hand pushing his glasses back up to position. 

Charlie sighed again, and sunk his head down. “But I shouldn’t be. I should have moved on by now, found someone new—”

William cut him off. “Don’t you dare go into what-ifs. That’ll only keep you miserable.”

“I know… it’s just… I wanna be someone’s special someone, but I can’t when I look like a stick and have to compete with huge muscle guys like Jack and his friends…” Charlie shook his head, frustrated and exasperated, while William gave him a comforting bro hug…

But William wished he could be more than just a friend to Charlie. See, William had been there for Charlie pretty much all their lives, growing up together and being very close. Hell, William had especially been there for him that night too: picking him up from the frat house; sitting with and comforting Charlie in his dorm; making sure he ate well and didn’t binge or starve himself; if anything, William would’ve made a great, loving boyfriend to Charlie… if only Charlie wasn’t so painfully straight and thought this was just a good friend looking out for a friend in pain. He, too, was frustrated by Charlie’s situation and constant thinking of the past.

Charlie rose from his chair and looked at William, smiling softly. “Thanks for being here for me, Will. It really means a lot to have a friend like you,” he said before walking away.

“L-likewise, Charlie. I’ll see you later,” Will replied, a smile forced onto his lips as he watched Charlie leave the library. Fuck, if only there was something he could do to make both his and Charlie’s situations ease up, but also align so they could be together.

Just as William was about to leave, he noticed a shimmer out of the corner of his eye. Turning to see where it came from, he noticed an old, rickety door with an oddly polished handle built in between the bookshelves. “Huh, I’d not seen that there before…” he mumbled as he walked over to it and turned the handle. The door swiftly opened, and Will stepped into what looked like a dusty, abandoned storage room, covered in cobwebs, rags and dust. He was intrigued at first, but screamed when he heard the door slam behind him without warning.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT??” he shouted, grabbing his phone and turning its flashlight on to look around for the source of the door closing. As he kept searching, a bunch of lanterns mysteriously flared up, suddenly illuminating the room to reveal an ancient-looking book on a cobwebbed lectern. After taking a few breaths to calm down, Will blew the dust off the book, to see its title: “The Jock Bible”. An Ancient Greek-style illustration of a hot, muscular guy adorned the cover.

“Hmm, interesting name for a book…” he pursed his lips, intrigued as he lifted the cover. He was suddenly overwhelmed when a golden aura emerged from the pages and blinded him, filling him with immense knowledge, knowledge that could play to both his benefit, as well as Charlie’s. The thoughts swirling in his mind made him smirk. Perhaps there could be a way to make Charlie his after all… though he himself might want to use it for his own needs too.

The next morning, Charlie waited in line at the cafeteria, concealing himself in a purple hoodie to not draw any attention from people. The party had made him embarrassingly and overwhelmingly visible, which gnawed at him and forced the poor nerd to resort to wearing more and more hoodies, just to hide. As he neared the trays and plates on the way to the buffet, he felt a firm, thick-fingered hand grab his shoulder, which sent shivers down his spine.

“Hey there, Chad, man you’re looking more huge every day,” a deep voice spoke.

“Wait, that voice is familiar,” Charlie thought, and turned around to see a handsome hunk standing there, in a blue tank top and grey sweatpants, which threw him off so much he jumped. The jock in front of him chuckled, while Charlie gripped his tray.

“Bro, chill, looks like you’ve seen a ghost or something,” he smirked as he eyed Charlie up and down. Another shiver ran down the nerd’s spine, and he felt strangely… comfortable.  Charlie took a few steps back as he still felt nervous around this guy, even if he was more chill about it, but the musclehead sauntered over and slapped the nerd’s back.

“Come on, let’s sit together and chat, Chad,” he said.

Charlie replied back, firmly, “My name’s not Chad! It’s Charlie!”

The jock shook his head and smirked. “Nah, dude, you’re Chad alright. One of the biggest dudes I’d ever seen.”

Afraid of this guy and what he was saying, Charlie threw his tray at the jock and made a run for it. He ran past the building he was supposed to have class in in an hour, past his residence hall, he even ran past the fraternity quad. When he stopped and took a breath, he looked around to see he was in the athletics area of campus, which spooked him. He could see the gym and the football field in front of him, and as he took a step back to wonder what the hell was going on, that slight shiver that ran down his spine tingled once more, and all of a sudden, his shirt felt extremely tight on him, as if compressing him.

“What the fuck is happening?” he asked, panting as he peeled off his shirt to no avail, the fabric tearing at his growing body. The buttons on his shirt bounced off as he felt his muscles grow at a rapid rate, which made him almost scream, while his shirt finally fell to the ground in a pile of shredded rags, to reveal a shocking surprise: rounded shoulders, defined pecs, washboard abs, toned arms, and a pair of legs strong enough to crush watermelons.

“H-holy shit, I’m buff??” he asked himself, and as he curled his arm into a flex, his bicep vein popped out, showing just how lean he was. His eyes went wide in horror. “What the fuck is going on??”

“Chad, Bro, I told you, you’re looking more huge everyday,” the jock from the canteen said, appearing as if out of nowhere. Charlie jumped and stepped back.

“Who the fuck are you?” Charlie asked, shutting his mouth as he heard a deep, bovine voice emerge from his mouth. “What the fuck is happening to me? What are you doing to me?” he cried, cowering in fear.

“That’s not the Chad I know. Dude, you’re the cockiest, most confident sigma jock on campus, not some wussy nerd,” the jock responded with a chuckle.

“I keep telling you, my name’s not Chad! It’s Chad—” Charlie tried to say his own name, but the name Chad slipped out of his lips instead. No matter how hard he tried, the name Chad stuck to his tongue like honey. “What the hell is going on?”

“You’ll see when we’re done, Chad.” The jock winked and sauntered away, his muscles defined by the sunlight above while Charlie watched, confused and terrified altogether. What did that musclehead mean by “you’ll see when we’re done”?

Walking back to his dorm, Charlie felt exposed. Embarrassed. He tried to cover up his body, but his hands, large as they were, were unable to fully cover his massively ripped chest, which bounced with every step he took. The now-lean muscular nerd, glasses still on, kept his head hung low to avoid attracting any more attention. However, when he was a few feet away from the front door, he heard giggles and whistles from the other side of the street. Charlie looked up, and noticed a trio of sorority girls looking at him. No, not just looking. Ogling him. Licking their lips and blowing kisses at him. As they did, his spine tingled… and he thought his dick was getting hard too. He smirked back at them with a confident grin, flexing one of his arms. The girls giggled even more, which made the nerd blush, until he realized his dick was still soft and limp. 

His face went pale at the realization, and before he could even try to process what the hell was going on, Charlie ran off into his residence hall, until he was finally in the comfort of his own room. Not at all realizing that he’d dropped and broken his glasses on the way.

———

It had been an intense two days since that strange jock pestered Charlie, and since he… well, got the body of one. He was still confused as to how he could just magically buff up like he did, especially since it looked like he’d been working out since he was thirteen and played football at the same time. Scouring through Google to find answers, there seemed to be no solution to changing himself back to his normal nerdy self. Not just that, he knew he couldn’t keep hiding like this - he was bound to step outside and run into people.

“Ughhhh, what do I do?” he asked himself.

Then, he realized there was one person he hadn’t seen since his change. William.

Charlie grabbed his phone and, with his meaty fingers, sent a message to his best friend, hoping he could have someone to trust with his secret.

CHARLIE: <<William, I need your help>>

The nerd-in-a-jock’s-body held his breath, waiting for a response, and sure enough, the text bubble showed up as William typed out his reply… one that poor Charlie was not expecting.

WILLIAM: <<sup chad? i was wondering where u went>>

Charlie was baffled, and in his shock, dropped his phone. Did that jock steal William’s phone? Was this some sort of elaborate prank that Jack and his buddies were pulling? His phone buzzed again, and he picked it up to see a new message from whoever had his bestie’s phone.

WILLIAM: <<earth to chad, bruh sometimes you can be so thick huhuhu>>

As he read this, he felt an intense fog fill his mind, obscuring his panic and attempts to make sense of the situation. A chuckle left his lips, and his hand covered them in waning concern. Charlie wasn’t dumb… was he? 

He put the phone down on his bed, and looked around the mess of a bedroom he was in: empty packs of chips, half-full bottles of soda and water, clothes strewn in every corner. Well, less clothes, more like shredded pieces of fabric that were once clothes that used to fit his lanky frame. All that survived were some of his oversized t-shirts and baggy jeans, which were more form-fitting on his now-muscular physique, leaving little to the imagination. That, and a set of gym clothes he found outside his door the night after his sudden second puberty. A tight grey Under Armour compression shirt that showed off his massive pecs, a pair of black five-inch inseam shorts that hugged his thighs, and a jockstrap.

If anything, his room resembled what he thought a douchey jock’s dorm would look like.

Charlie stood up, and he felt his head go woozy, the fog in his mind intensifying and concealing more of his usual train of thought. He sniffed like a dog, sensing there was an awful stench coming from inside his room. He first thought it was his clothes - sure, they had some cheesy scent to them, but not as intense as this one was. His shoes? Rank, but not what he was looking—OH, it was himself. Charlie’s pits reeked like crazy, his B.O. filling up the room and replacing the oxygen in it. Normally, he would wrinkle his nose in disgust, but with his mind in a daze, he let out another chuckle.

“Bruh, I reek,” he said, in a low, bovine tone reminiscent of Jack.

Fuck, Jack. That sexy motherfucker, with muscles that glistened with sweat, a handsome face that he could just kiss, and a dick worth sucking—

Wait, what??

Charlie quickly got dressed in the new gym clothes he got, not even bothering to shower or clean himself up, grabbed his phone and bag, and ran out of his dorm, pushing some of his fellow nerds out of the way. He made it outside, the sun shining on his chiseled face, and he began to saunter over to…

Wait, where was he going again?

He pulled out his phone, and looked through his calendar to see what class he had. He’d already missed his degree-required Python Coding class at 8:30 AM, History of Japan at 11:30 AM, and now it was past 2:00 PM. Charlie had… Physiology of Exercise at 3:00 PM followed by HIT DA GYM at 6:00 PM? As he regained some of his composure, Charlie was shaken. These two things on his roster were stuff a jock would study and do. He usually had Study Group with his friends at six… what the fuck was going on with him?

As the nerd felt some of the mind fog ease and dissipate, he noticed the same trio of girls from two days back, the ones Charlie flexed for, but this time they were accompanied by their frat bro boyfriends - all looked like they were cut from the same cloth: white, chiseled jawlines, built bodies. Charlie’s jaw dropped at the sight of these men, his cock was getting hard just by ogling them, and tenting visibly in his tight shorts. He was straight! Into girls! He wasn’t gay. He… he couldn’t be. He grabbed his bag and covered his obscene bulge, waddling over to the library to calm himself down and figure out what was happening to him.

———

William, meanwhile, was returning to his room at the Eta Theta Tau frat house, locking the door behind him as he pulled out The Jock Bible from his backpack. He smirked as he flexed his biceps in front of the full-length mirror on the wall, before sitting down and opening the magical tome that had granted him not only the body and life he’d dreamt of. He charmed his way, literally and figuratively, into Eta Theta Tau, the college football team, and even the Honors Society. He became insanely popular, grew in strength as he did bicep curls with 28-kilogram dumbbells, gained a rugged handsomeness by stealing some traits from his fellow frat bros, all of which made William more visible and prominent in the social fabric of campus life. 

The Jock Bible also gave the new frat bro, actually more like the Frat President, immense power to reshape reality and whoever he wanted to fit his new life. That included his crush on Charlie, soon to be his dumb boyfriend Chad. He laughed as he remembered scaring the shit out of his skinny nerd friend, taunting him into growing his muscles. They were getting big enough for William’s, or rather Will’s, taste, but he wasn’t so much into Charlie’s intellect. It kinda drove an unseen wedge between the two of them, and made Will feel dumb sometimes.

Well, with this next phase of the plan, that was about to change, and now he wondered what Charlie was doing with his text messages from earlier.

“Charlie, I can’t wait to make you my blissfully dumb muscle slut,” he chuckled as he turned the pages of the book to see what else he could pull off.

———

Charlie stumbled out of the library two hours later. It was fine, he thought, I can skip this class, it’s not even a class I remember signing up for. As he walked around, the golden rays of sunlight hitting his perfectly-tanned skin, he saw the jock who’d made him into an oaf of a man strutting in his direction. Charlie hid behind a tree, his breath picking up as he shivered nervously. His mind felt somewhat the same, but also felt a bit slower than usual.

“Who is this dude, and what does he want with me?” he asked himself.

He suddenly gasped as he felt a bunch of hands grab his arm, yanking him from his very obvious hiding place. Charlie’s eyes went wide when he saw who pulled him out - it was Jack and his group of bros, smirks on their faces as they looked at him.

“Yo, Chad, why’re you hiding from us dude?” Jack chuckled, patting the nerd’s back.

One of his posse, Dan, smirked. “Bruh, we got push day at six, you’ll be there, right?” he asked.

Charlie was even more confused, seeing his tormentors treat him as if he were like one of them. No, they were treating him as one of them. Panic rose inside Charlie, as it was quite the shift. Something felt really off, but before he could even speak his mind, his mouth spoke for him. “You know it, my man. Gotta get this chest so huge it’ll break a bra in half,” Charlie grinned back involuntarily, his hand cupping his pecs, which caused him to moan.

The group of jocks laughed out loud, as Jack held onto Charlie’s shoulder. “Man, you gotta control yourself, no one’s gotta know you turn yourself on,” he replied. Charlie stared at Jack, noticing that he was taller and bulkier than his bully. That was a welcome sight for him, considering he wanted revenge for the set-up, but there was something about Jack being smaller yet still muscular that Charlie was starting to find… hot. The posse sauntered off, cackling amongst themselves as the jock-nerd ogled them, feeling more confused than he did earlier. Poor Charlie, if only he knew…

The hours flew by, and before Charlie knew it, it was nearly six. He sat down on a rock by the lake, tears in his eyes as he watched the sun set, the sky filled with gold and the water crashing against the rocks below him. “What’s the matter with me?” he asked himself, rubbing his reddened eyes with his bear-like paws.

“Bro, chillax, you’re a jock now,” a voice bellowed in his head. Charlie turned around, trying to figure out where this jock-voice came from.

“Let go, man. No need for smarts anymore when you’re this jacked.”

His breath got heavier as he realized it was coming from his own head. “But… this isn’t me! I’m not a musclehead. I’m not friends with Jack. I’m not…” he paused.

“What, gay as a three dollar bill?” the voice, which he assumed must be the Chad everyone thought he was, asked. Charlie nodded.

“I’m straight, I’m into girls,” he stuttered out, feeling even more confused as his mind conjured up an image of the jock who’d started all this.

Chad chuckled dumbly. “Dude, chicks don’t really care about our muscles, but the bros? Man, do they want a piece of the action. Don’t you wanna finally enjoy life and get to fuck someone?”

Charlie gulped. This jock persona was right, even though it was hard to listen to an oaf, even if he was in his own mind. “I… I guess…”

“Then let go man, don’t be such a pussy. You’ll get everything you ever dreamed of,” Chad replied, and Charlie felt his lips curl into a jock-like smirk. One full of confidence, as if he knew he was the shit.

Charlie was now, though, now that he really, really thought about it. He had muscles now, and big ones too. He looked like he could play for the college football team as a tight end or a quarterback with his size. His face looked like it’d been carved by the ancient Greeks or Michelangelo, with how sharp his features were.`As for the python swinging between his legs? Well, I bet Jack’s couldn’t even compare.

“I just don’t wanna be—”

“What, an asshole? An arrogant douchebag?”

“Bingo,” Charlie sighed. “It all feels so surreal, but I don’t wanna betray who I am.”

Chad laughed. “Bruh, trust me, I’m just as dopey and curious as you are. I’m you, just hotter, more confident… maybe dumber, but at least I use my body and my mind for what actually matters.”

“So I’m just supposed to let go—what the fuck??”

Charlie screamed, as he suddenly found himself in the middle of the campus gym, and in the middle of a rep on the incline bench. His arms lifted the barbell with ease.

“How’d I get here?” he asked himself.

“You talked too much, little dude, had to get to the gym in time,” Chad replied as Charlie watched his body betray him, pushing and grunting through a few more reps on the bench press before setting the barbell down and sitting upright. “Trust me man, you, me, we can be happy if we choose to be.” Charlie stood up and saw his humongous body in one of the mirrors on the wall, his mouth agape in wonder while he flexed his biceps. They were the size of his former head. As he flexed, he felt… content. Strong as fuck. Happy, even.

“There we go, little dude, you and I are gonna become one sexy Chad by the end of tonight,” Chad spoke with Charlie’s mouth, and Charlie… well, he understood now. Maybe this was just what he needed.

———

Chad kept up the push day workout, grueling through incline bench presses, cable flys, weighted tricep dips, dumbbell skull crushers… the list went on. Grinding through each rep, Charlie felt his muscles pump up even more, sending a thrill of strength and cockiness through him, while Chad grunted, fixing his bulge every now and again. As the pair-in-one-body sauntered around each machine, they felt eyes staring at them - some girls found him hot, others found him disgusting when his B.O. wafted into their noses, while the other dudes… they thirsted over his physique, complimenting him.

“Holy shit, bro, you look huge!” one gym bro said.

Another one replied, “Dude, you’re the real alpha here.” 

Chadlie smirked when a cute twink named Jamie came up to him and asked, “Um… excuse me, how do I work out to look just like you?” The twink’s bubble butt bounced, and Chad just wanted to plow his fuckstick inside that cute boy’s hole. Charlie stammered as he tried to give some tips, but he felt his hand cup the boy’s ass, squeezing that soft flesh between his fingers.

Jamie blushed scarlet. “W-would you wanna head to the showers?”

Chadie nodded, a sly grin on his face as he picked up the cutie and strutted to the locker room, grabbing a pair of towels and carrying Jamie into one of the private shower cubicles. Charlie couldn’t believe this was actually happening, but Chad could. The jock ripped off Jamie’s gym clothes off his slender body, while the very slutty twink got to work, peeling the stud’s shorts and jockstrap to the floor and getting onto his knees. Jamie licked the tip of Chadie’s cock, the jock shuddering in pleasure as his little boy guided his ten-inch monster through his dick-sucking lips and into his oh-so-perfectly-tight mouth. 

“Fuckkkkk bro,” Chad and Charlie both moaned, their body’s hand grabbing Jamie’s soft, curly hair, letting his fingers run through each lock before gripping the twink’s head, then slamming his cock further down his throat, his lips meeting the base of his jock cock. Every inch of Charlie’s resistance to becoming Chad was wearing down with each thrust of his hips, precum dripping into Jamie’s throat as the twink cupped his baseball-sized nuts and massaged them so nicely, he almost busted one. But they kept going, and once he felt like his dick had been lubed up enough by the amazing sloppy he was getting, he pulled Jamie’s head off and lifted the twink up, turning him around and bending his sweet ass over.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, slut,” Charlie whispered seductively into Jamie’s ear. Or was it Chad? It was unclear now who was who, as the nerd began to let the jock into him, letting go as he plowed Jamie’s ass raw. The twink whined like a bitch in heat as he couldn’t hold on for much longer, as Charlie kept ramming his cock against Jamie’s prostate so hard that he could only see stars. Jamie came from his tiny nub, but Chad kept going, fucking the cutie as if he were just a plaything, grunting like a beast as he neared his own climax.

“Holy shit bro, I’m gonna CUMMMMMM!” the jock shouted, as he blew a massive load inside Jamie’s tight ass, filling it up to the brim and letting it leak a bit out of the twink’s hole as he slid out. In his mind, Charlie’s and Chad’s minds melted together in orgasmic bliss, blending together to create a cocky yet dopey, dumb yet curious, straight-passing yet gay-as-fuck jock - the Chad everyone knew him to be. He took a deep breath as he turned the shower on, washing Jamie’s lithe body, while the cutie lathered up his huge muscles, kissing a few times, before drying each other up.

Jamie grabbed Chad’s phone and blushed as he typed in his number. “Call me, Chad.” The twink’s ass bounced hypnotically as he ran to his locker, got dressed, and headed out. Chad chuckled, cupping his bulge. He left a missed call for Jamie to save his contact, then got dressed in his gym clothes again, his scent barely erased by the shower he just had.

As Chad made his way back to his room, Will bumped into him, a slight blush on his frat-bro face. He looked up into Chad’s empty eyes and dumb grin, and noted them down in his head. “So, gave in to the jock life, Chad?” he asked.

“Dude, it’s soooo chill. No thoughts, just lifting, fucking, sleeping. I mean, I still have some smarts, but like, they’re all workout and nutrition shit, you feel me?” Chad replied, chuckling like the typical himbo he now was, as his fingers ran through his hair.

Will smirked. It worked. Charlie, or Chad now, could finally be his. But not just that, he seemed taller and bigger than ever. He moved closer to the jock he made, and smiled. “I get you, bro. Though, I have a question. You still into chicks?”

Chad let out a boastful laugh. “Nah man, dudes are the only ones who can appreciate all this,” he said as he gestured to his muscular body, his right arm flexed to show off.

“Is that so?” Will asked, flexing his own pecs to show off. “Then, mind if I say, I find you fucking hot, dude,” he whispered, cupping Chad’s bulge sexily. However, shock flooded his face when the jock pushed him off.

“Sorry, dude. I mean, you’re hot and all, but I’m only into cute twinks,” Chad replied with a firm frown, before sauntering off.

Will was confused as fuck. The Jock Bible promised him that anyone he turned into a jock would worship him, become his boyfriend and servant. Maybe that’s because he hadn’t read the footnotes - the fine print stated that whoever the converted jock would fuck first would be his desired lover. That was Jamie the twink. Now, Chad was dumb as a pile of rocks, but clearly, Will was dumber for missing this, and the Jock Bible weaved its magic into his mind, making sure he was dumb enough to forget about its existence and its powers, leaving him powerless and too dumb for college, that he soon dropped out.

And as for Chad? Well, with Jamie as his lover, and with his dopey confidence in life, who wouldn’t want to be like him?

———

Hello, Tumblr! I'm back with a new story after a long while - this one's a commission I'd been working on for some time now, though life had thrown me a few obstacles in getting it finished. Hope y'all enjoy this one!

If you're interested in commissioning a story from me, see my post on commissions here! If you can't or don't want to commission any stories, you can also tip me over on ko-fi.

[twistedpink]

Hiya hiya it's me again! (And I hope you are having a good night/day) So where I was left off, house wardens taking care of your back because they left so many scratches after a spicy night 😳 but also maybe with different reactions and how they noticed the scratches??? I can't think of any scenarios 😭 but I would love to hear your opinion 👍

TYTY IM FREED

I just KNOW Riddle is an A+ scratcher. NOTHING is off limits. Your only saving grace is with how groomed his nails are, you’re practically mark free! Goes bright red and sighs a lot (GUILTY 🫵🤯) when the time comes to apply antiseptic, but is overall v thorough and gentle, 7/10. Usually notices if you sleep naked or he’s fixing your collar/hair!

Leona is the second worst, and not because he needs a lot of grounding, but his nails are LONG LONG for no reason,, God your poor legs,, 5/10. Prone to scraping you up during play fights, but isn’t very guilty about it unless you express a fear of infection or scarring.. Lowkey blames YOU for not cutting his nails, but only because he doesn’t want to hurt his pookie <3 (laughs at you for having thin skin. Secretly wants you to get him back x10.)

Refuses to have long nails. Being very much a “real men only have clear coats” guy, Azul doesn’t scratch, but it’s the hitting that’s bad,, He can’t help it, but that doesn’t make it BETTER!! No matter how gentle he goes about it, the little pinches and punches against your skin’ll bruise eventually, but he’s always open to massages! 6/10. V pathetic and cute about it. (Please don’t eat him)

VERY SWEET! VERY DEMURE! Kalim only scratches on purpose!! With all the oils and creams you’re slathered with it’s a challenge to get any real grip, but sometimes you’ve gotta scratch that mental itch with a physical one,, Straight up LATCHES so it’s just crescent moon after moon on your biceps and back, but he makes a point to kiss and soothe every. Single. One. So you can’t stay toooooo mad :D,, 9/10!!

Vil cares too much about the both of you to “mark you up” in that way- Of course he has moments of weakness where your hair and neck pay the price, but cat scratches just aren’t in the cards for you,, You KNOW that’ll mess up his manicure, and do you want to spend an hour getting patched up?? Okay maybe you do,, But that’s besides the point! He has things to do that don’t involve cleaning sweat and grossness from under his nails. 5/10 for cleanliness. Might as well bang in a hospital bed. There’s no advanced sloothing for how he finds them, just that your nightly back scratch turns into a horror movie pretty quick,,

One accurate word describes Idia and his gamer nails. Grooooooooooooooosssssssssssssssssss,, The ONLY way to trim them is to hold him down like a dog getting clipped, and even then he’s still whining about how they’ll break on their own time- He knows they’ll get all snaggy, but doesn’t he look cool? (Don’t encourage his delusion) Very much cultivating claws rather than human nails, but is emotionally attached to your mangled back. 4/10. Doesn’t have to “discover” them, knows EXACTLY what he’s doing.

The one true exfoliater to trump them all,, Malleus may not have experience or sex appeal on his side, but he has HOOKS in you, and that’s a sure way to keep you loyal!! He gasps like a murder witness whenever you get naked because “my word however could this happen??” while crying a little and trying to stop his lip from quivering :( Basically wraps you in bubble wrap and puts himself in a chastity belt, but not before having the worst phone call of your life and getting his dad to patch you up!! Lilia KNOWS what you’ve been up to and couldn’t be prouder! Just learn how to use a nail file for next time, alright? 8/10!! <3

@bju3c0re @kyokills

[hecateisalesbian]

this posts tags reads like a school shooter 😭

guess who was outed to their entire homeroom class today