#the way i’m twice as good a teacher as he was. and i quit. says a lot doesn’t it

[fingertipsmp3]

Feel like locating my secondary school PE teacher and sending him some kind of hate message tbh

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve grows up playing piano, absolutely hates it, but is so good at it. His parents aren’t around enough by the time he’s a teen to force him to his practices, so he slowly stops going.

His music teacher happens to be Robin’s mom, who studied at Juilliard, and traveled for nearly a decade with various orchestras and bands before settling down with her husband in Hawkins.

She can see what’s going on with Steve from day one, but knows better than to interfere.

Until he quits.

She can’t stand by and let someone so musically gifted give it up.

She shows up at his house with a violin, her own violin that she hadn’t used in years.

He’s hesitant at first, but decides to give it a try as long as she doesn’t tell his parents. The last thing he wants is for them to find out he picked up a new instrument.

She can’t give him official lessons, so she shows up to his house twice a week and hopes that he practices in his own time.

He’s a natural.

He takes to it like a duck to water.

She encourages him to perform in a local talent show, all kids under 18, most of them not half as talented as he is.

He only agrees when she says she’ll be front row.

And sure enough, for once in his life, someone shows up when they say they will. She’s sitting front row with her husband on one side and her daughter on the other. She smiles as he takes the stage, nervous about people who know him seeing him and reporting back to his parents.

He performs with heart, something he lacked with the piano. He performs with talent, something he may have with any instrument he picks up.

But most importantly, he plays with a smile. He’s having fun.

He sticks around to watch some of the other people performing: Tammy Thompson singing a very out of tune rendition of America The Beautiful, some kid from one of his classes playing piano miserably, and some band performing very loud, very angry music.

Steve wins, and for once, it feels better than when he wins at a swim meet or basketball game.

He spends the next three years secretly practicing, only performing in shows out of town, never saying anything to his parents.

He doesn’t want them to ruin this for him.

He applies to Juilliard, not thinking he has a chance in hell, not with his academic grades.

Luckily, they see that he’s “exceptional with the strings” and “plays with emotion that can’t be trained.”

He gets in.

He goes.

He thinks he may actually be able to do this, use a gift he has to make his life better.

His parents even find it acceptable, mostly because he got into the best school he could have. They still don’t bother showing up for his shows, but Mrs. Buckley always finds a way.

In his sophomore year, Robin gets in, and they both move into a small apartment off campus together. He promised to look out for her.

She tells him that music wasn’t really her passion, she was just good with a trumpet. She really wanted to be an engineer.

In his junior year, Robin transfers to Columbia, starts doing what she really wanted to do from the start. He’s proud of her, but misses having someone on campus during the day to have lunch with.

Until he stumbles, literally, into someone vaguely familiar.

“Sorry, man. Running late.”

Steve pats the man on the shoulder and turns to get to his class when the man stops him.

“Harrington? You’re a student here?”

He turns back and finally recognizes the man in front of him.

“Munson? When did you get here?”

“I got in this year. Kinda fucked up my first audition last year and they were kind enough to give me another shot.” Eddie smiled. “What on earth are you here for?”

“Violin. You?”

“Guitar and songwriting.”

“That’s great, man. I’m just really running late. Catch up soon?”

Soon was two weeks later, when Steve ran into Eddie again while leaving class.

“We should probably stop running into each other like this,” Eddie smirked. “The universe is trying to tell us something.”

“What’s it trying to tell us?”

“Not sure. Maybe we should go grab dinner and find out.”

“Now?”

“Why not? Got better plans?”

Steve thought about how Robin was barely at the apartment due to studying for midterms. He thought about how his only other friend from here was busy rehearsing for their senior showcase.

“Nah. Let me bring this home first,” he held up his violin case. “Actually.”

Steve was on a budget. His parents gave him money, sure, but they thought he was living on campus so the money they sent covered rent and groceries and nothing else.

“I could make dinner. If you want?”

“Steve Harrington cooks? And plays violin?” Eddie fake swooned. “Be still my beating heart. How will I not be seduced?”

Steve rolled his eyes. He remembered Eddie’s dramatics from school and knew better than to feed into them.

“I can make some spaghetti. Nothing fancy.”

“Spaghetti sounds great,” Eddie’s fake swoon turned to a soft smile. “You want some help?”

Steve didn’t need help, usually didn’t even want any.

But something about the way his stomach dipped when Eddie stepped closer, and the way he thought about having Eddie in his apartment, made him agree.

“Sure.”

They walked to Steve’s apartment in a comfortable silence, though Eddie kept tapping the back of his fingers against Steve’s hand.

Eddie fit next to Steve. They cooked together, they ate together, they even managed to clean up together. It was easy to find something to talk about. He’d never clicked with anyone like this, not even Robin.

By the time Robin came home, Steve and Eddie were both passed out on the couch, fingers laced together as if they hadn’t been brave enough to do anything more before they fell asleep.

By morning, Steve’s head was on Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s arm wrapped around him loosely.

Waking up to a soft kiss on his lips was something Steve couldn’t have imagined when he first ran into Eddie, but he was pretty glad it was how he started his day.

And almost every day after that, whether he woke up to a kiss, or met up with Eddie on campus for a kiss, he started his day with love on his lips.

[leaderwonim]

i’m just a teenage dirtbag baby ( like you. )

based on this edit !!

pairing. troublemaker!nishimura riki x goody-two-shoes!fem!reader

summary. nishimura riki was infamous for being handsome and also quite the character. he’d purposely throw papers everywhere, bump into people without a care, and ditch class like it was nothing. you were the complete opposite, but deep down, nishimura riki knew you were just like him

warnings. cursing, smoking, riki destroys someone’s private property 😭, riki is your typical teenage dirtbag, he also calls her sweets

“Hey.”

Nishimura Riki slides onto the seat right next to yours, blinking twice as much as he should be. You knew it was one of his teasing habits, meant to make you shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

“What do you want Nishimura?”

He puts his hand over his chest, pretending he’s wounded by your words. “Nishimura? We’re on last name basis sweets?”

“Shut up,” you say, pushing his face away with your index finger. “I have exams to study for.”

“Let me see.” He ignores your protests, flipping your textbook to his side as he eyes the papers. “Ew, mathematics? You’re a bigger nerd than I thought sweets.”

“Don’t call me sweets.” You say, sticking out your tongue in annoyance. “And get out of here.”

He lifts both hands in surrender, “alright, alright, I’ll leave sweets. Gotta meet Jungwon anyways.”

You thank whoever above was listening to your pleas of making Riki leave. Turning around to face the desk he was in, you realize he hadn’t pushed in his chair.

“Nishimura!” You groan out loud, pushing it in with your foot. This earns you a shush from the librarian, which only fuels your hatred towards the Japanese boy.

.♡.

“Y/N! Is that you?” There was Nishimura Riki’s annoying voice again, the one voice that you dread to hear everytime you entered school.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy other people?” You ask, face clearly unimpressed.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed.”

You glare at Jungwon’s unneeded input in the conversation, which makes him snicker and look away.

“You guys are ditching again?”

Riki and Jungwon shrug, making you roll your eyes. Of course the two were ditching, why did you even ask?

“We were gonna stop by the cigarette shop and get a pack or two.”

Jungwon elbows Riki, as if he wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.

“What? We can trust Y/N, isn’t that right sweets?”

“You still call her sweets?” Jungwon groans. “Gross dude. Let’s go.”

Jungwon starts walking, Riki closely following behind him. Just before they exit the school corridors, the boy throws you a wink, one that you roll your eyes at.

“You’ll love me one day sweets!” He shouts.

“In your dreams Nishimura!”

.♡.

It seemed like nothing was going your way. The next week had approached and even though it was barely Monday, your teachers decided it was a good idea to assign a bunch of exams on the same day.

With quivering hands, you tried not to get the tears that were currently coming out of your eyes onto your physics paper, which was marked with a 68.

How on earth did you get a 68? You were so sure you knew the formulas that were needed for the exam, but what was on the test looked completely different from what you expected.

You could barely find it in yourself to walk home, legs practically dragging across the concrete floor as you wipe your tears away with your windbreaker.

“Sweets?”

Although your normal self would snarl at the nickname and the voice it belonged to—you found yourself too tired and miserable to care at this point.

“Riki?”

You wipe your eyes again, vision clearing in enough to make out Riki leaning against one of the large trees a few meters away from the school.

“Hey, what’s wrong sweets?” He takes the cigarette that was currently dangling on his mouth out, squishing the head of it on the dirt floor beside him.

“Are you smoking again? That’s bad for you and you know it.”

“Geez sweets,” he laughs, finally standing up. “You looked like you just bawled your eyes out yet you still have enough energy to lecture me?”

“Shut up.”

“Ah, there she is again.”

Riki makes his way closer to you, head peering down to reach your level.

“Don’t cry.” He says softly, and it’s the first time you heard him in that tone. “Makes your eyes all red and scary.”

“Yah!”

He laughs when you hit him on the shoulder, sound that used to make you frown but you were weirdly enjoying it now.

“I’m kidding sweets!” He slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to him. “You’re pretty, even when you have tear stains all over you.”

The two of you continue walking, you not too sure where Riki was even taking you.

“Where are we going?” You sniffle, looking around the area.

“This new arcade, cmon, I’ll drive us.”

The two of you are in front of his beaten down Toyota, although it looks pretty clean from the inside. You thought Riki’s car would be an absolute mess, but it seemed like he was a clean freak when you opened the door to the smell of vanilla and cinnamon.

“You actually clean your car?”

“I’m offended you thought I didn’t sweets!” He says, frowning. “Thankfully, I don’t hold grudges.”

He puts the key in, hands tapping against his leather seat. “Wanna tell me why you’re so sad?”

He places a hand on the head of your seat, body twisting back with one hand on the wheel to pull out of his parking spot. He looked incredibly handsome doing such a basic task that it almost made your ability to speak go away.

“I got a 68 on my physics test.” You say, shoulders defeated.

“No way.” He continues driving, eyes glancing back and forth from the road to you. “Mr. Yuji’s class right? Fucking hate him.”

“Yeah well, I do too.”

Riki takes a road that you’re unfamiliar with, and he suddenly stops the car in front of a house.

“What are you doing Riki?” You say, watching as he opens his trunk and leaves the car.

“Doing something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

He pulls out a bat, and your eyes widen when he smashes it against a mailbox, crushing it in completely.

“Holy shit!” You shriek, eyes widening as Riki throws back the bat into the trunk, closing it with a loud bang.

He runs back to the car, slamming the door behind him.

“And that’s for Y/N motherfucker!” He yells before driving off, his boyish laughter could be heard from a distance.

“You’re crazy.” You breathe out, body still in shock from what you witnessed. “Who’s mailbox was that?”

“Mr. Yuji’s.” He smirks, eyes still on the road. “Let’s just say—this isn’t the first time I’ve been to his residence.”

“Wow.” You rest your head against Riki’s cold windows, still taking in what just happened. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome sweets.” He smiles, teeth practically shinning like the movies. “Now how about that arcade I promised you earlier?”

.♡.

After hanging out with Riki at the arcade on Monday, you realized the boy wasn’t as bad as you thought.

He had won you a gigantic brown teddy bear, a cliché that you never thought would have happened to you after failing your physics exam.

He made you name it James The Third, and made you promise that it was your child and you had to take care of it while he was away.

“I heard you hung out with Nishimura this weekend!” You swore nothing could go past Byeol, who was currently geeking at the sudden news of you and Riki being so close.

“Shh, keep your voice down!”

Byeol wiggles her eyebrows, giggling at your stressed state. “You two are so cute! Opposites attract!”

You start to walk away from her, using the excuse that class has started. Sure Riki was handsome and weirdly—nice—you weren’t sure what your feelings about him were yet.

“Hi.”

You basically flinch out of your seat when you see him right next to you. He had a can of soy milk and a slice of chocolate cake with him.

“I brought you soy milk, hopefully you like it.”

You give him a small smile, not trusting your words enough to actually speak. Thankfully for you, the teacher entered right after, starting her lesson on trigonometry.

“Nishimura Riki, do you really have to eat in my class?” The teacher stops writing, placing her chalk on the board as she stares directly into Riki’s eyes.

He looks up from the bangs poking at his eyes, giving the teacher a stupid smile.

“Yes Mrs. Park, I’m very hungry.”

“Very well.” She wants to scowl at Riki, you could tell by her furrowed eyebrows. But she doesn’t, instead, picking up her chalk again to continue the lesson.

3 minutes don’t even past when Riki’s chewing gets incredibly loud and obnoxious, making you place a hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from bursting out laughing.

“Is the chocolate cake that good, Riki?” The teacher asks, trying not to completely snap at the boy.

“It’s sooo good.” Riki says, smiling fully with his teeth.

The class blurts out in laughter and hysteria, making Mrs. Park practically crush the chalk that was in her hand.

“That’s it! Go outside Nishimura Riki!”

He rolls his eyes, standing up from his seat. “Fine, but I was just eating cake.”

He looks over to you, who was currently giggling underneath your breath. He gives you a small smile, flicking your forehead softly before leaving the room, leaving you a blushing mess.

.♡.

“Pssst.”

You turn around, already knowing who was on the other side.

Of course Nishimura Riki was there.

“I’ve got two tickets to see Arctic Monkeys, come with me Friday night?”

You shake your head softly. “Oh I don’t know Riki, I have to study.”

“Don’t say that sweets,” he groans, head slumping into your shoulder. “Have some fun!”

“Shhh!” You look around, thankful the librarian wasn’t here to scold you guys. “Okay, okay, I’ll go. Just be quiet.”

“Yay!” He cheers, and it’s the happiest you’ve ever seen of the boy. “I’ll pick you up, okay? Friday night, 8pm exactly.”

“Okay Riki,” you say. “I’ll see you.”

Friday comes by in a flash, and you weren’t sure what to wear to the concert.

Despite it being your last year of being a teenager, you still haven’t attended one. So you were in a real struggle to pick what would be perfect.

You decided to go with a plain black top and cream colored cargos that hugged your waist, one without straps so your shoulders could be out. You were sure it’d get hot in the concert with all the people that would be attending.

“You look cute.” Riki says as he rows down the window. “Get in.”

The stadium is only 20 minutes away from your house, and you’re starting to get nervous when you realize how many people were attending.

“Hey,” Riki says, taking ahold of your hand when he notices it shaking. “It’ll be the most fun night of your life. I promise.”

And he was right. Although you were sure you weren’t going to enjoy it all that much, you found yourself singing and swaying along to the music.

The stadium was dim, making the music hit even ten times harder.

When I wanna be yours started playing, your vision was focused on the band whereas Riki’s eyes were focused on you.

“Hey!” You giggle, catching him staring at you. “Focus on the music dummy! You’re the one who bought the tickets.”

“Yeah yeah,” he says, smiling ear to ear. “The concert’s great and all but you’re even better.”

You don’t get to question his words before he crashes his lips onto yours with the lyrics wanna be yours blasting in the background.

[reiderwriter]

NSFW Prompt Requests - I’m in dyer need of 127 or 150 if you’d be so kind?🥵

A/N: I feel like I say "I got a bit carried away" in every single one of these authors notes, but this one I think I really did...

Word Count: 3k

#127: "I can taste myself on you."

#150: "Stop clenching, baby, you're already tight enough as it is."

Summary: You're hot for teacher. So is every other girl on campus. Your Professor, however, is absolutely oblivious until you spell it out for him...

Warnings: Professor x Student, age gap, oral (M receiving), face-fucking, no birth control/ condoms, creampie, male whimpering and moaning mentioned a lot, PinV sex, both of them are Switches idc idc 18+ MINORS DNI

Check out my other stuff on my masterlist!

You had been in his class for around three weeks when you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. If you were going to keep up your GPA and progress in your grad programme, you were going to have to either drop the class with Professor Reid, or persuade him to put you out of your misery. 

You’d been intrigued by the course to start with, of course, which is why you’d picked up the criminology elective when it wasn’t a required class. But it was only available this semester as he was only Guest Lecturing while on leave from his job at the BAU, and getting that kind of insight from an actual industry professional rather than an academic really couldn’t hurt, right? You’d thought that until you’d seen him. 

Expecting some older man with a stuffy tone and a disdain for modern technology, you’d been roughly awoken when he walked into the lecture hall on the first day and you found yourself hanging on to his every word as he read through your syllabus. You were spot on with the technophobia, but for everything else, you were blissfully incorrect. He was, quite possibly, the hottest man you’d ever seen in your life. You weren’t secretive about your thing for older men, joking all the time about your “daddy kink,” but you’d never had a thing for one of your actual professors before, and it was driving you insane. 

It didn’t help that the word had travelled around the entirety of your campus as well, with multiple girls turning up to audit the class after the first week. You’d been green with envy since you’d seen them mooning over the man, and you’d felt disgusted with yourself almost instantly. He was your professor, he was damn good at his job, but he was so deliciously tempting that you couldn’t find it within yourself to actually pay attention in his classes. You knew it was only a matter of time until the man, who you realised was obviously blind to how attractive he was to a bunch of twenty-somethings with a penchant for danger and a willingness to try all kinds of new things, would catch on to how many of his students were openly lusting for him.

You hoped that you had learned enough in his classes on behaviour that you could accurately hide your feelings and thoughts, however sinful and objectively obvious they were. Your hopes were crushed on that fateful day three weeks into the semester. 

You’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed already. Your alarm hadn’t gone off, your clothes were all still wet inside the washing machine in your apartment meaning you had to throw on a short skirt and pray you didn't flash anyone, and your roommate hadn’t closed the fridge properly the night before, so the milk you wanted to use in your morning coffee had spoilt. After dragging yourself into class, the last thing you’d wanted to see was twice as many students auditing the class as the previous week. 

To give it to the man’s obliviousness, he hadn’t noticed until about two thirds of the way into the class, when he asked a student why they weren’t taking notes.  He’d seemed confused. You were almost furious that he didn’t know what effect he was having on you, on every girl in the vicinity, but, more importantly, you. Unable to help yourself, you let out a scoff that gained his attention. 

“Is there something wrong with the class materials Miss…” he trailed off, waiting for you to supply your name to him. 

“Oh, no, uh, Y/N. My name is Y/N, there’s nothing wrong, sir. I’m sorry.” His lips twitched as you replied, but he went on with his class, as you sunk into your chair in shame. You were going to have to drop the class now. He must hate you, or think you were stupid, or think that you hated him, and your thoughts were spiralling so out of control that you hadn’t noticed the class had ended, and he was calling up at you from the lecturing desk. 

“Miss Y/N, are you okay?” He asked, and his goddamned eyes were filled with such concern you hated that every part of your body was screaming with desire for him. Unable to respond, he tried again. 

“If you have the time, would you like to come talk to me in my office? I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.” You should’ve said no, just based on the ridiculous scenes filling your mind, but you didn’t hesitate to nod your approval. You picked up your bags and made your way down the steps to where he was waiting with all of his stuff near the front door. He opened the door for you, and you felt your heart race as you awkwardly slid by him in the doorway. He had to be a fucking gentleman, too, right? 

You followed him as he made his way to his office, staying silent the entire way. He looked like he wanted to make small talk but didn’t know how, choosing instead to just mirror your silence. When you reached his office, he apologised for the mess and showed you inside, letting you take a seat on the couch whilst he put all his things away. The room was littered with books of all sizes, and you noticed that the titles didn’t seem to have one common subject linking them all, or even, in fact, seem to be written in the same language. You spotted a beaten up copy of War and Peace on his desk next to an obviously used coffee mug, and some paper files that looked to be the reading from that morning’s class. 

“Sorry, I didn’t exactly plan on having guests, uh, make yourself comfortable?” He asked it as a question, and loosened his tie as he said it. You stared at the small patch of skin on his neck, your eyes lingering just a moment too long before you remembered you were in a room with an actual FBI Profiler, and that if your thoughts were any louder, he’d handcuff you himself. As tempting as that was, you really didn’t want your Professor knowing about all the ways you’d imagined him fucking you. 

“Professor Reid, I’m sorry, I have to leave, and- and I think I have to drop out of the class.” You stood up suddenly, and he stood up too from his place at his desk, shocked at your sudden anxious outburst. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, is there something wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable?” he asked taking a step closer to you, but you took a step back again, accidentally pressing your back against one of his many bookcases in your haste to avoid him. 

“Yes! I mean no, it’s not your fault that I’m uncomfortable. I’m not uncomfortable, really!” He had the look of a kicked puppy on his face now, and you realised this man would be the death of you. You weren’t even sure what it was about him that entranced you enough to stay and continue the conversation.

“I can’t focus in your classes, Professor,” you sighed out, letting your eyes drop with the embarrassing confession. 

“That’s perfectly fine, many people struggle to pay attention in college classes. Is there anything I can do in my lectures to accommodate to your needs?” Your eyebrows screwed up in frustration with his obvious professional kindness. 

“No, Professor, I’m sorry, unless you stop looking like that there’s nothing you can do.” You ran a stressed hand through your hair as you begged your mouth to shut and stay shut. 

“...What?” The confused tone in his voice let you know that he had no clue at all what you meant by your words, but he didn’t go further. You chanced a glance up at his face, and were met with a small blush rising to his cheeks, as you watched the words process in his brain. 

“Professor, every single person in that class that is attracted to men would kill to do absolutely sinful things to you. You’re like the campus’s collective wet dream right now. You had to know that, right?” You sigh out, finally putting the man out of his misery.

“Oh. No. No, no, I didn’t. Know that, I mean, I didn’t…Is that why there are so many people auditing the class? They want to…. Do that with me?” 

“Fuck you, Professor. They want to fuck you. You can say it, we’re both adults.” You resigned yourself to the fact that this conversation was probably going to haunt every waking hour for the rest of your life, and just let it happen, pushing through the cringe to help him come to certain realisations. 

“And that’s why you want to drop the class?” he asked finally, looking back up at you. 

“Yes.” 

“Because you want to…fuck me?” 

Your mouth dropped open at his words, as you desperately tried to back track, but all that came out was hot air and blubbering sounds as you felt your brain short circuit like his had just moments before. 

“I mean… I guess,” you finally stuttered out, your fight or flight instinct begging you to just run, but something deeper, something carnal planting you in position and making movement in that moment impossible. 

“Oh…. right.” He nodded at you, his lips spread in a thin smile as he nodded at you awkwardly. You stood there together in silence for a minute, but it became clear soon that the logical part of your brain was no longer in control of your mouth. 

“Can I?” you asked, almost startled at your own boldness. 

“Excuse me?” he said, his voice raising higher in tone at the incredulity of your statement. 

“Can I fuck you? If I do, maybe I’ll be able to, you know, pay more attention in class. Get it out of my system, you know.” Growing emboldened by your own words, you took another hesitant step towards him, reaching your hand up to gently touch his arm. His jaw clenched at the contact, but he didn’t move away, didn’t suggest you stop right there and forget this conversation ever happened. 

“Please, Professor Reid. Please fuck me,” you trailed the hand up his arm and back down his chest as he stood there just watching you beg for him. You discarded your bag on the chair, and keeping your eyes focused on his, trailed both of your hands down to his belt, slowly enough that he could push you away at anytime. 

“Do you know what you’re doing, Miss Y/N?” He asked quietly, and you smiled, finally happy to get a reaction from him. The smile had dropped from his lips and there was something suddenly dark in his tone that had you clenching around nothing. 

“Yes, Professor,” you said, letting your hands start working on his belt, undoing it agonisingly slowly as you watched him control his breaths. When you finally had it undone, you finally looked up at him again, and gave him a smile as innocent as you could muster. 

“You have my permission,” he whispered into your ears as he gently put a hand on your head and pushed you down to your knees, perching himself on the edge of the desk. You wasted no time then, desperate to live out each and every single one of your fantasies with him. Reaching into his pants, you found him already hard and pulsing, and you released his cock from its confines quickly. Spitting into your hand, you gave him a few quick strokes as you watched him grow even bigger under your touch. 

Letting out some sinful breathy moans, you looked up at him, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut as you finally reached your tongue out to lick at the tip of his cock. He twitched at the contact, and you felt the warmth pooling between your legs as you watched his each and every reaction. Finally wrapping your lips around him, you decided to put him out of his misery, sinking down on his dick an inch at a time until he was hitting the back of your throat. He was delightfully vocal the whole time, moaning and whimpering so much that you almost pulled off him completely and begged him to fuck you raw. But the taste of his cock was intoxicating and you wanted more and more of him. After a few minutes of your agonisingly slow pace, you felt his hips beginning to buck up to match your pace as he began to face-fuck you. He grabbed a handful of hair, and you did your best to relax your throat, stabilising yourself by placing one hand on his thigh and sinking deeper into your open hips on the floor. 

His eyes were still screwed close, but he was moaning out your name now, with a few expletives thrown in too, having done a complete 180 from the few minutes earlier when he’d hesitated to even say the F word in conversation. You felt he was getting close when he started thrusting deeper, sloppier in his movements and more breathy in his moans. He suddenly pulled out of your mouth and lifted you to your feet, bringing you face to face with him. 

“We didn’t… we didn’t say where I would, um…” he tried to say but you pushed up onto your toes and pressed a hot kiss to his mouth, your tongues quickly twinning as he returned it in kind. You stood there, lips locked and breathless in that space for quite some time, neither of you caring about the lack of oxygen you were getting. Finally, using the hand that was still fisted in your hair he pulled you away from his lips, and you whimpered pathetically at the loss of contact. 

“I can taste myself on you,” he panted into your neck as he held you close, the words sending a shiver down your spine and forcing another moan out of your mouth. The pain from his tight grip in your hair only heightened your pleasure as he moved his lips back to your exposed neck and continued his ministrations. 

“Please, professor….” you begged again, desperate for his attention. “Please fuck me.” 

Without removing his lips from your neck, he quickly moved the two of you back to the couch you’d been sitting on before, guiding you into his lap, his cock still hard and free from his pants. Your skirt spread open, and your hard landing meant you could feel all of him pressed against you. You thanked the gods for your suddenly well-timed laundry efforts as he grabbed the base of his cock and started teasing you through your panties. You were sure they were soaked through as you sat in his lap, grinding down on his perfect cock, his mouth still pressed into your neck. 

“Fuck me, please fuck me,” you moaned, and he complied, finally hooking a finger under the seam of your panties and moving them to the side as he pushed up into you with another throaty moan. 

“Yes, thank you. Thank you Professor, thank you.” You moaned out in bliss as you sank further and further down on him, pushing further than any man had been. before. 

“Stop clenching, baby, you’re already tight enough as it is,” he ground his teeth in a hiss, and you moaned at his words, the pervertedness of them shooting straight to your core. 

“Can’t…help myself. You feel so good, sir.” He started moving then, holding your waist as he started lazily thrusting upwards. After having your mouth wrapped around him, he knew that too much too soon would mean that this wouldn’t last long, and you had begged him nicely, so he wanted this to feel as good for you as it did for him. Gripping one of your hips tightly in one hand, he let the other fall under your skirt, and started pressing into your clit. You threw back your head at the contact and started riding him, matching each of his upward thrusts with a downward thrust of your own, letting his thumb gain speed as it followed you up and down. 

“Fuck, professor, thank you…I’m gonna cum, fuck, thank you so much,” you stuttered out as you could feel your orgasm rip through you, collapsing into his arms as he thrust quicker into you now. 

“Y/N, where… where should I….” His voice trailed off, and after a few seconds regaining your sanity after your climax, you finally answered the question he’d been desperately trying to answer.

“Inside… Inside me, Professor Reid, it’s okay…” he whimpered at that, at each thrust he pushed into you, his head falling to the crook in your neck and your hands stroking the hair at the base of his neck as you clenched around him again, finally pulling the desire out of him. He came noisily, even with his face buried in you, moaning so delightfully you knew the sound would be your new distraction for the next three weeks. 

When he finally regained his composure, he let his hands drop from your waist, his head rolled back on the couch, and you fell with him, wrapping yourself around him as if  you never wanted this coupling to end. You stayed there, head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and drifted to sleep. 

You awoke an hour later, but there was no sign of the Professor. He’d cleaned you up somehow, because there was no unpleasant feeling between your legs, and he’d wrapped a blanket around you as you slept, making sure you were comfortable. Collecting your things and making to leave, you almost convinced yourself that it had all been another fantasy, and that you were becoming seriously delusional about the man. As you approached the door, however, you spotted a small note taped to the handle, and quickly pulled it into your hands. 

Miss Y/N, 

Thank you for visiting me today. I hope you decide to stay in the class, I certainly could learn a thing or two from you. 

- Spencer Reid. 

P.S. You’re lucky I’m an MIT Graduate with a job in the FBI. There’s a security camera in my office. 

[toruro]

love you twice — j. wonwoo — part two

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

description: in which your extremely hot and sexy one night stand turns out to be your son’s teacher. naturally, chaos ensues, but you might just find love as your life continues to take an unexpected turn.

w/c: 7.7k

tags/warnings: sexual content (18+), first-grade-teacher!wonwoo, mother!reader, fluff, angst (light), dirty talk, car sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), dry humping, unedited

a/n: aaaand here is part 2! there's more emotions in this one, and it's more dialogue heavy—at least i hope! thank you for all the kind words on part one, i'm so glad many of you liked it! i hope you enjoy part 2 just as much c:

“Hey Mommy?” your son asks, walking into your room as you rummage through your clothes.

“What’s up Kei-Kei?” you say, looking up at him as you put one of the skirts you’re holding down.

“What time is Uncle Jun coming?”

“Huh, that’s a good question,” you murmur, pulling up your phone to go through your messages. “He’ll be here soon Kei-Kei, give him like an a few minutes. You excited to see him?”

Kei nods, skipping up to stand right next to you. “Yah-huh. I miss him,” he says honestly, and you smile at the thought telling Jun his nephew missed his presence.

“He missed you too, I’m sure,” you reply, ruffling Kei’s hair before waving him along to follow you to the kitchen. “You can watch some TV now if you want, just while we wait for Uncle Jun so I can get ready,” you tell him, sitting him down at the living room couch to turn on the TV.

Kei swings his legs back and forth over the edge of the sofa, nodding in agreement as you put on one of his favorite shows and retreat back to your bedroom, staring down at the pile of clothes

Friday night? Friday night. Fuck, it’s Friday night, and you are hit with the daunting realization that you don’t know what to wear. Huffing in exasperation as you toss your clothes from your drawer down on the ground, you silently curse yourself for not having more clothes that were actually…actually nice.

It isn’t as if you don’t enjoy dressing up—the opposite quite really—it’s just that after having Kei, there was never really the chance for you to do anything that required you to get all dolled up. Well, up until now, at least.

Wonwoo wasted no time texting you that night after your…well whatever that was, sending in the simple message of, ‘friday night?’ His shameless straight-forwardness had you biting down on your lip in your kitchen as you tried to not squeal, before quickly typing out your response of, ‘yes,’ and then thoughtfully, ‘but only if i can find someone to watch kei.’

That evening was spent with you calling Jun, figuring out when he’d be back from his trip, nearly jumping up and down when he responded with a, “yes, yes, I can watch Kei,” followed by a conversation with Kei about how he’d get to see Uncle Jun again this Friday, much to his delight.

Which brings you here—pouting to yourself in the mirror over the fact that you might just have to show up to your date in a skirt you haven’t worn in three years. Granted, it is a cute skirt and you’re flattering yourself when you realize that it still fits, but it is pretty old, and it has you thrown back into memories of when Kei was much younger.

Having Kei in your life was never anything but a blessing, but you would be a liar if you said that some times weren’t especially difficult. From managing your new corporate job, to not having any support from Kei’s father and not much more from your parents, to living in a new city where you hardly knew anyone besides Jun—it was a lot.

Yet, you’ve never regretted your decision of keeping Kei by your side, and looking at the skirt in your hands right—while does remind you of late nights of crying in your bed—makes you feel nothing but pride and happiness for getting this far and holding Kei’s hand every step of the way.

Smiling to yourself at the thought, you quickly fold all the other loose clothes and put them back in their place before slipping on the denim skirt and choosing a white sweater to layer on top. Pleased with your appearance, you walk out of your room as you text Jun about when he’s going to come, since you vaguely remember asking him to come around this time. As you’re just about to send the message of, ‘where are you?’ there’s a knock on your door.

“Is that Uncle Jun?” Kei asks excitedly, jumping up from the sofa to join you on your walk to the doorway.

“I sure hope so,” you chuckle, peeping through the little hole, opening the door when you catch a glimpse of your cousin’s blonde hair. “Hey!” you greet as Jun’s figure reveals itself in front of you, “I was just about to ask you when you were going to come.”

“I—” Jun begins to speak as you give him a little side hug, but he’s cut off by Kei’s squeal.

“Uncle Jun!” he beams, running toward the tall man next to you with his arms wide open. Jun swoops down and swings Kei up by his underarms, throwing him into the air slightly before catching him into his arms.

“What’s up Kei-Kei? I missed you!” Jun exclaims, booping Kei’s nose as they both laugh. You bite back a bright smile at the sight as you close the door behind Jun, helping him take his bag and setting it down while Jun carries Kei to the couch.

“How was your trip with Minghao?” you ask him as you both sit in the living room armchair while Jun settles on the ground with Kei in his lap.

“It was so amazing,” Jun replies, “and we took so many nice pictures. I gotta show you when you’re back from—well, wait where are you going? I just realized you never told me.” You suck in a breath and glance at Kei who’s mindlessly watching the TV while playing with one of Jun’s hands, giving your cousin a look which says, not now, not in front of Kei. Jun purses his lips after understanding your message, nodding slightly before turning his attention to Kei who’s telling him about the show.

“I made dinner for you guys,” you tell Jun as an attempt to avert the topic, at least for now. “I made your favorite, as a thanks for watching Kei—fried chicken.”

Jun lets out a happy sigh, “Oh my god, thank god. I seriously have been deprived of that stuff. It’s just in the fridge right?”

“Yeah, I can show you.” You stand up and make your way to the kitchen and Jun sets Kei down on the couch to come and follow you. As you show him which container the food is in, your voice starts to hush so you can answer the question that you know is on Jun’s mind. “Okay so I have a date,” you say, watching his eyes widen.

“No way! Really?”

You roll your eyes in a mix of annoyance and humor, “Yes! Is it that unbelievable that I’m going on a date with someone?”

“Okay, you know that’s not how I meant it. It’s just, well after Seojun…” Jun’s voice trails off as he gives you a sympathetic look—you know what he’s hinting at. “Okay like you get my point. I just wasn’t expecting this.”

“I guess you have a point,” you murmur to yourself, chewing on your lip.

“Who’s the guy, if I can know,” Jun asks curiously.

“It’s kind of…okay it sounds sort of weird when I say it,” you try to tell Jun, thinking about whether or not you should reveal who you’re going on your date with.

“Ugh, fine, you don’t have to tell me yet. Is there a reason you don’t want Kei to know about it?”

You sigh, leaning against the counter. “It’s not like that…I just—he’s so young? I don’t even know if it’ll work out with this guy—” but god fuck do you hope it will, “—and he’s only just at that age where he’s realizing that most people have two parents and I don’t want him to be confused. Do I sound crazy?”

“No, no, it makes sense,” Jun responds comfortingly. “How’d you meet this guy though?”

“That doesn’t matter,” you quip, turning your head away to walk back to Kei.

“Oh I’m so going to find out eventually,” Jun teases following behind you. “God, this guy even has you wearing that skirt! When was the last time you wore that thing?”

You look down at your legs clad in denim, smoothing down the fabric with your hands. “I dunno, honestly,” you think aloud before looking up at Jun and Kei who are looking at you from the sofa. “It’s nice though, right?” The two boys smile and nod vigorously, and you open your arms wide to pull them into a hug. “Gosh I love you two.” When you pull back you crouch down in front of Kei, holding his cheeks and squishing them. “Especially you, Kei-Kei. I have to head out now, okay? Listen to Uncle Jun.”

Kei sticks out his tongue at you as you place a kiss on his cheek. “I always listen to Uncle Jun!”

“I know, it’s because you’re such a good boy right?” you say lovingly before turning to Jun. “Remember, chicken in the fridge and Kei’s coloring set should be in his room. I’ll try to be back before nine so I don’t keep you here too long,” you instruct your cousin who seems a little preoccupied with squishing Kei’s cheeks.

“Don’t worry about that—I could spend all day with this kid,” he replies without even looking up as you scoff lightly before your lips morph into a grin.

“Whatever. I’ll catch you later, yeah? Love you!” you say one last time before picking up your purse, slipping on your shoes, grabbing your keys, and hopping out the door.

In the privacy of your car, you take a moment to just sit and take a deep breath, leaning your head against the headrest. The possibilities of how this night might run through your mind, and you find yourself biting your nails anxiously—an old habit that never quite died out.

After a few minutes of rumination, you feel there’s no point fantasizing any longer, pulling up your phone to confirm the details that Wonwoo had sent you. Butterflies flourish in your stomach when you see the little heart next to the message reading out, ‘can’t wait to see you,’ and you nearly want to smash your head into the steering by how much it makes you want to scream.

Taking a deep breath as you start the car, your two focuses while driving are 1) not crashing, and 2) not bursting into a big ball of mush at the thought that you’re going on a date—a date with Jeon Wonwoo. Fuck, this man has been doing these to you because you haven’t been on more than two dates in the past three years, and neither of them have had you this excited.

God, you don’t even know what you’re doing on this date! The only information Wonwoo gave you over text was to meet him at a restaurant early in the evening, and then he’d take you ‘someplace nice.’ Now usually, you’re more insistent on having your date actually tell you where you’re going. But you also usually don’t go on dates with your son’s teachers, so you figure that there’s always got to be a first for everything, and that you’d like to share some of your firsts with Wonwoo.

After around ten minutes you’re finally pulling up to the little dine in restaurant Wonwoo sent you, chewing on your lip as you look through your window to see if he’s already there. It takes you a few moments to see him, but soon his figure catches your line of vision and you’re giddily grabbing your purse and tucking some hair behind your ear before leaving your car.

At the moment, Wonwoo is looking down at his phone scrolling through god-knows-what, so you take it as your chance to catch him by surprise, steadily walking up to him until you’re just within arm’s length, finally tapping his shoulder. His head snaps up at you quickly, but a warm smile is making his way onto your face after immediately realizing it’s you.

“Uh, hi,” you greet, bringing your hand down and holding them behind your back. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, I had to talk to my cousin about some stuff.”

“It’s okay, I only got here a few minutes ago too,” Wonwoo says sincerely and holy crap you almost forgot how deep and velvety his voice sounded in person. “You look pretty,” and he says it so casually, as if he was commenting on the weather, that the compliment takes more than five seconds to register in your head and then your eyes are widening slightly before looking away.

“Thank you,” you mumble in response, caught by surprise, before returning, “you look really nice too.”

“We can get dinner first,” Wonwoo suggests, pointing at the door to the restaurant. “I know it’s a bit early but I have some place I’d like to take you.”

You raise a brow at him as you follow the direction of his arm, walking through the doors so you two can get seated. “Do I get to know where you’re taking me, Mr. Jeon?” you tease as you sit down at a seat at a table across from Wonwoo.

“Nope,” he replies with a sly smile. “It’s a secret.”

“I should have you know I actually despise secrets,” you tell him, leaning back in the seat.

“Well,” Wonwoo says smoothly, leaning back as well, “I should have you know that you’ll like this one.”

“And how are you so sure of that?”

“A little someone may or may not have told me his mother likes sunsets.” He takes a sip of water, watching the expression on your face turn from something teasing to something of slight embarrassment.

“You talked to Kei about me?” you ask, somewhat accusingly. Wonwoo puts his hands up, shaking his head as he laughs.

“No, no, not like that. He was drawing a picture of a sunset and he told me it was for you because you liked them,” he explains. That makes more sense. “It was a really pretty drawing, did he show you?”

“Yeah, it’s up on our fridge actually,” you say with a smile, recalling the moment when Kei brought the drawing home, all grinning and proud. It’s around now when a waitress comes and takes your orders, returning to your conversation as she leaves. “So you still haven’t really told me where you’re taking me.”

“Well it seems like you aren’t really listening but I told you it’s a secret.”

“Well maybe you’re not listening because I said I don’t like secrets!” you whine.

“I feel like I’m arguing with one of my students right now,” Wonwoo chuckles. “Surprisingly, Kei is a better listener than you.”

Scoffing, you grumble, “Well you should try to feed him vegetables.”

“That is luckily not one of my duties as his teacher.”

“Well it should be!”

Wonwoo is a good talker. And a good listener. Wonwoo is pretty much good at everything, you start to realize as the night progresses. You aren’t sure if everything’s going so natural because you two just click, or because he’s just inhumanly amazing at making you flustered and giddy, or both, but you find that time flies when you two talk.

When you’ve both finished your meal he stands up and takes your hand, the touch so gentle you think you might just faint. He leads you to his car, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. “Hey wait, I have my car here.”

“I know, but the place I want to take you is pretty close and I want to drive you there,” Wonwoo explains. “Trust me, okay? I’ll bring you back here so you can take your car home.” You give him a look and he sighs. “Please,” he says, looking down at you while tilting his head in a way that makes you want to crumble.

“Okay fine, but I have to be back home no later than ten, okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” Wonwoo cheers, opening the passenger seat for you before slipping into the driver’s seat. “Trust me, you’ll like this place.”

“You know you’ve been telling me to trust you so much that it’s making me suspicious!” you point out as he begins to drive.

“You’re awfully suspecting, I’m just trying to make sure you have a good night.”

“Well you’re being awfully suspicious! I can’t help it. What if you’re taking me to a scary place to murder me or something!”

“I teach little kids, not kill their mothers.”

“Maybe the teaching is just a cover up,” you speculate as you pretend to think with a finger on your chin. Wonwoo laughs as you look out the window and observe the scenery around you. The once residential area you were driving through has now turned into a scatter of trees and fields—you’ve driven by this place before, but never quite gone into the smaller, inner roads.

“You can think whatever you want to think. But I take it you like the view?”

“It’s pretty,” you say, absentmindedly gazing out the window.

“I told you. We’re almost there—you can close your eyes if you want?”

“This is so suspicious,” you note, albeit closing your eyes and placing your hands over your lids.

“You seem all too willing to go along with the plans of someone you think is a murderer.”

“I don’t think you’re a murderer, I’m just speculating.”

“I’m pretty sure those are the same thing,” Wonwoo mutters as you feel the car turn to a stop, assuming you’ve parked. You shift your body a little, somewhat aimlessly, and you hear a breathy laugh come from your side causing you to frown.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you pout with your hands still over your eyes. “If you’re going to kill me, at least help me out of the car!”

“Alright, alright, just wait one moment.” You hear the seat squeak as he gets up, the sound of the door opening and closing behind him ringing in your ears as you rest back in your seat, anticipating Wonwoo’s next moves.

Sure enough, within seconds your door is being opened, and you feel warm fingers wrap around your upper arm as Wonwoo carefully pulls you out of the car. “You’re being pretty gentle with someone you’re about to kill.”

“You’re really morbid, you know that right?” Wonwoo states.

“What!? I’m only joking,” you whine, following his lead and stepping out onto the ground carefully, letting Wonwoo guide you through wherever it is he’s taken you, finally stopping when he places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes them firmly.

“Okay, you can look now,” Wonwoo instructs, and you can tell from his voice that he’s standing right next to you. As you let your hands fall to your sides, you slowly open your eyes, quickly shutting them back closed by the intrusion of light to your unadjusted pupils. Wonwoo watches as you blink your eyes back open a few times, your faces going from bothered to enamored as the scene in front of you becomes visible.

In front of you is a large field of grass, enclosed by trees around it, pockets of daffodils flowing with the wind, and small yellow flowers dotting its surface. Looking up, you catch the orange-pink sky that’s settling over you, and while your eyes are still adjusting, you can confidently name this as one of the prettiest things you’ve ever seen.

“Wow,” you breath out, turning to look at Wonwoo. “You’re telling me this place has been like 20 minutes away from my home and I’ve never known about it?”

Wonwoo snorts at your comment before leading you to the edge of the dip in the road where he parked. “The roads were closed off for a few years and I guess people forgot about it,” he says with a shrug, pointing at a bench that sits at the edge of the field. He sits down while you stay behind, still marveling at the scene in front of you.

“Do you usually enjoy taking the moms of your students to see pretty sunsets?” you ask Wonwoo, wiggling a brow as you sit next to him after a few moments.

“That depends,” Wonwoo replies, leaning back and smoothly resting an arm behind you, his hand falling on your shoulder. You scoot closer to him, and the way his arm follows your movement has your stomach doing tumbles.

“On?” you ask curiously, slightly anxious about his answer—what if this is a normal thing for him?

“On whether or not you want to make this a usual thing.” You nearly choke on your saliva, not expecting that response, eliciting a laugh from the man next to you. The fucking things he does to you. “I take that as you want this to be a regular thing?” he continues.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest indignantly in faux pettiness, but Wonwoo catches the way you rest your weight on him. “I guess it depends on how pretty the sunset is.” His arm adjusts around you, pulling you closer so you’re pressed up against his side with a hand ghosting its touch on your hip.

“Well I think it’s pretty pretty. Seems kind of hard to turn down a round two of this, don’t you think?” he reasons, and you giggle.

“I guess you’re right.” A comfortable silence settles over you as you both look at the grass and the ever-changing that sits above it. “The grass looks pretty,” you think aloud, stepping up from the bench and towards the lush green fields in front of you. You don’t say anything as you walk into the grass, crouching down to your knees before sitting in the grass, legs straight out in front of you as you rest your upper body on your arms behind you.

Wonwoo follows, and before you know it he’s sitting down next to you, his upper arm brushing next to your shoulder. It’s silent for a few moments as you look ofer the view, trying to collect the racing thoughts that zoom by in your mind.

You must look like you’re deep in thought—which, to be fair, you are—and Wonwoo speaks. “Is everything okay?”

“I, uh—sorry wait, I’m just thinking a lot of things,” you mumble, burying your face in your hands, somewhat embarrassed that you stopped this moment for nothing other than some useless thoughts. You groan quietly as you lay back, letting your head fall onto the grass, looking straight up at the sky.

Wonwoo watches you and purses his lips, grabbing your wrists and gently pulling them away from your face so he can properly look at you as he turns his body over and lays next to you. “Tell me.”

“I guess…” you huff, taking a few moments to think of the right words. Jeon Wonwoo waits. “I think I’m worried. Worried that whatever this is, it isn’t more than just like, a fun night and a nice fuck for you.”

“Do you mean—”

“That sounds bad—ugh—it’s like,” you stutter over your words as you try to come up with a way to say this. Jeon Wonwoo waits. “We hooked up and all, and then there was nothing after that, except there is something after that, you know? And I want to be on the same page with you with what that something is.”

Wonwoo stares at you with some kind of clouded message in his eyes and you take it as your sign to continue speaking.

“That night was…not something I usually do but I don’t know if it’s something that you usually do. And even this—dates—I don’t think I’ve gone on more than one or two a year since I’ve had Kei and,” now you begin to ramble, not even being able to look Wonwoo in the eyes as you pour your heart out, “but you make me want to and this is different for me but I don’t know one hundred percent what your thoughts on this are,” you conclude, shyly looking up to meet his gaze.

You catch Wonwoo chewing his lip for a moment before taking a deep breath and beginning his response, “I think…I know I really like you,” he admits. “I don’t usually hook up either, but you were so pretty. I kept thinking about you the whole next day.”

You perk up at that. “Really?”

“Really. Why do you think I offered for you to stay the night?”

“I thought you were a gentleman,” you joke.

“I am a gentleman. Just only for you,” he adds with a wink that you catch from the corner of your vision.

“So you don’t butter up all the other moms too? I doubt you don’t—there’s no other way for you to have gotten that reputation.” “I just happen to be a good teacher.”

“A good looking teacher,” you correct. Wonwoo gasps dramatically, turning over again so he can face you.

“Are you defaming my skills as a teacher?”

You scrunch up your nose at his accusation, turning over too and laughing a little at the way the grass tickles your neck. “No. I’m just saying you’re a good looking teacher. You’re a great teacher, I can tell from Kei.”

You don’t expect Wonwoo to bring a hand up to your cheek and press a firm kiss on your lips. It’s the first time you’ve felt his lips in days, and although it’s short, it’s sweet and fulfilling. “You’re a great mom,” and he pauses, “I can tell from Kei.”

You grin so widely you have to turn away from him out of embarrassment, hoping the cool evening breeze will soothe your burning cheeks. “I try.” You sit up finally, looking down at Wonwoo who’s still laying down on the grass, watching with two hands behind his head. “How’d you find this place anyways?”

“My mom used to take me here.” There’s something in his voice—it’s unidentifiable for a moment, but when you see the look on Wonwoo’s face, you place it. Pursing your lips at where you have a feeling this is going, you reach your hand out, motioning for him to hold it.

You two don’t speak as he sits up, encasing his warm hands around yours. It’s a silent message, you think, and you don’t need to say anything for Wonwoo to know that you understand. “I’m happy I’m here with you,” he finally says, squeezing your hand just a bit tighter.

“I’m happy that you took me here,” you admit.

The air is lighter now, and Wonwoo asks, “So you finally understand that I’m not trying to kill you, right?”

“Um, I think I still need to think about that…” your voice trails off as you look off into the distance with a smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe another kiss might convince me, though…” You give Wonwoo a look and doesn’t hesitate to pull you by the hand and into his hold, pressing his lips against yours.

His hold on you is so gentle yet so firm, pulling you close and sliding his tongue against yours. The innocence that laced your fingers with his is replaced with an overwhelming feeling of desire—you think you might just go insane. When he pulls away, you audibly whine. “Is that good enough for you?” Wonwoo coos.

“You can’t just kiss me like—like that and then just stop,” you complain, shifting to sit on your knees so you can face him fully. Wonwoo throws his head back when he laughs at you, but when he looks back at you, his gaze on you is—fuck—it’s definitely something.

“Car?” he asks, and your eyes only need to flicker towards his SUV that’s parked just a few meters away before he’s standing up and you’re scrambling to take his hand so you can follow him, nearly running into the back seat with him.

Wonwoo sits in the backseat and you climb in right after, situating your knees on either side of him as he closes the door behind you. The second he’s done he’s pulling you by the waist impossibly close to his body, capturing your lips in another fierce kiss.

Wonwoo kisses you the same way roses bloom in spring, the way sun shines in summer, the way leaves brown in autumn, the way snow falls in winter—he kisses you like it’s so natural, it’s imprinted into his very DNA.

The thought has you melting under his touch, and when his hot mouth leaves yours to trail its way down, sucking and nipping at the flesh of your neck, you find yourself aching for more. There’s that buzz at the depth of your core and you feel yourself grow warmer and warmer as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck.

“This skirt, fuck, you were driving me crazy all evening,” Wonwoo mutters into your ear as you grind into him, hands coming up to squeeze the flesh of your thigh, fingers inching up and under your skirt.

“Maybe,” you gasp as he pushes you down harder, your clothed core pulsing at the contact, “you’re just really horny.” Wonwoo scoffs, and although you know he’s trying to come off as composed, you watch the way his eyebrows are slightly furrowed.

“Maybe,” he retorts, “you just make me horny.” You’re about to lean in and kiss him again when a passing thought comes to mind.  “You should know I really want you and me to go somewhere, but if you want reassurance that you are more than just an amazing lay, I didn’t plan on this happening today,” he groans as you go back to rocking your hips into his, leaning down to push the seat back so he could lay further down making it easier for you to straddle him. “And to add to that fact, I didn’t even bring condoms,” he adds shamefully.

“Guess I’m just that irresistible huh,” you murmur into his mouth as you lean in for a kiss, Wonwoo’s arms making their way back to your waist.

“Mhm,” he agrees. “But seriously, no condoms,” he grunts when he brings his fingers under your skirt and over your soaked panties. You gasp at the familiar feeling of his fingers running over your clothed folds, stilling your hips so Wonwoo can continue his ministrations.

“Okay so you like skirts,” you note, voice strained as Wonwoo watches you try to keep your composure, “Anything else that turns you on? You know, so I can make sure that I totally don’t wear that next time.”

Wonwoo chuckles as his middle finger rubs over your clit, and you let out a high pitched moan. “Well I’m not sure yet…still have to see you in different outfits, you know?” Fuck, it’s really hard to pay attention to his words when his deft fingers are nearly having you humping his hands from how fucking good it feels.

“Ah—Won—fuck,” his name escapes your lips as you look down at his hand that’s buried beneath your skirt but not giving you quite what you want. “I guess that means—ah—that you’re just going to have to take me out more,” you manage to gasp out as he slides your panties to the side, the cool evening air hitting your slick core.

“Yeah?” Wonwoo looks amused when he says it, and you burn from the humiliation of falling apart on top of him, but you don’t back away. “Want more, angel?” he coos and you can’t even help the way you clench around the ghost of his fingers at the words. Yeah, angel, you want to be Wonwoo’s angel. His angel.

“Yeah, Wonwoo, want more,” you plead, placing your hands on his shoulders so you can look at him with glassy eyes. “Please? Make me feel good, please?”

Wonwoo isn’t sure how he’s holding himself back. Yes, he’s usually good with self control in all situations but the way you’re looking at him has his mind overcome with nothing but pure hunger. The thought of you being bent over the back seat, fucking you so hard that he’s the only one you can smell, see, think, feel, has his pants feeling incredibly tight.

The release of tension that he once felt when you were grinding against him is no longer there, but the only thought at the forefront of his mind right now is making you feel good. The way your eyebrows are slightly pinched together, eyes shutting tight when he runs a tentative finger through your wetness, the soft pleas of his name on the tip of your tongue—god, Wonwoo would do anything and everything for you if you just asked him, saying his name like that.

“You want me to make you feel good?” he finally gives in, circling the tip of his middle finger around your hole before finally plunging it knuckle’s deep in one go. You cry out at the welcome intrusion, letting your head instinctively fall to Wonwoo’s shoulders as you needily grind down on his finger, wanting—no, needing—more.

Wonwoo takes his time with you, using only one finger to drag in and out of you until you lift your head up and look him so fiercely in the eye, silently begging for more so intensely, that he can’t heed your requests. Easily slipping in another finger, he downright moans at the feeling of you hugging his digits so tightly.

“Wo—” you moan, “Wonwoo,” and fuck the way you say it has him nearly falling apart just as much as you are. “Feels so good,” you tell him, delirious on the feeling of him fingering you. His fingers reach so much further, so much harder than you could ever imagine doing on your own, and this moment reminds you of the many nights in the past month you’ve spent squirming on your bed, trying to recreate the same feeling from weeks ago.

“You look so pretty like this,” Wonwoo praises, and the words do wonders for you, and even moreso, for you cunt. “So wet—dripping all over me,” he whispers, and you whine at the way you feel yourself grow closer to your edge from his filthy words alone.

As his two fingers continue to rub against your hot, clenching walls, he brings his thumb up to smooth over your aching clit, and the way you gasp tells Wonwoo that whatever he’s doing, he should keep doing it. He doesn’t stop his fingers, nor does he stop his mouth, occasionally pulling your head up to kiss you and other times whispering pure filth into your ears as you begin to tremble under his hold.

“I—wanna cum,” you plead, bringing your head up from his shoulder and using your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. “Can I cum, Wonwoo, please—please?”

Your face is flushed, pupils dilated, lips swollen, and Wonwoo can’t ever imagine another universe where he can say no to you. “Yeah baby,” he urges you on, “cum all over my fingers. Make a mess.”

And who are you to deny him? Your orgasm hits you at full force as Wonwoo’s fingers speed up one last tight, thumb circling your clit simultaneously until his touch is the only thing you can feel and his eyes are the only thing you can see.

His name flows from honey off your tongue and Wonwoo loves the sound so much, he thinks he might just cum in his pants. He shakes the thought, watching you come down from your high, slipping his fingers out to readjust your panties and skirt. You watch him with hazy eyes as he does so, and Wonwoo takes his chances with your fucked out state.

Bringing his slick fingers up to your face, it doesn’t even take half a second before you’re wrapping your mouth around his digits, tasting yourself, tasting him. God, if Wonwoo didn’t think you were the one earlier, he definitely thinks you’re the one now.

He pulls his fingers out with a small ‘pop’ sound soon enough, looking at you with a grin. “Seems like you wanted this just as much as I did, huh?” Wonwoo teases, watching you as your erratic breath slowly comes to a steady pulse. “So much for calling me horny.”

“I-I told you,” you tell him shakily, “You look really nice.”

Wonwoo looks down, scanning over his outfit before replying, “So jeans and a t-shirt? I guess I’m listing those down as your turn ons. C’mon, give me something else to work with.” You roll your eyes as you slowly push yourself off of him, much to his confusion. You settle yourself in the cramped space between his legs, feeling yourself squirm at the sight of him realizing what you’re about to do.

“Uh, well,” you start off by bringing his hand that’s placed on his thigh to your cheek, the moist touch tainting your skin. “When you put your fingers in my mouth,” you say shyly, feeling yourself grow desperate again at the why Wonwoo’s eyes darken, “that was really hot.”

He doesn’t say anything as he nudges a finger against your cheek before prodding at the corner of your mouth. Without warning, he plunges two fingers back into your mouth as you open your lips up for him, pads pushing down on your tongue. You both groan at the implications of what you’re doing as you swirl your tongue around his digits, coating them with your wetness once more.

“Okay, fuck, I can’t do this anymore,” Wonwoo groans, and you open your mouth to free his fingers of yourself as you watch him unbuckle his jeans and push them down to his knees. You quickly crawl forward, sitting up higher as you reach forward and pull his boxers down along with his pants, freeing his length.

You nearly moan at the sight—it’s been so long since you’ve last seen it—long, thick, veiny, and dribbling a bead of precum down the tip. You settle yourself comfortably between his legs, but your feet are still in an awkward position behind you. Nevertheless, the only thing you can think right now is how badly you want to make Wonwoo feel as good as he made you feel.

You waste no time running your palm down the length of his cock, making sure to run your fingers over every curve, every vein, every part of him, as if you were trying to memorize him. As you bring your face closer to his tip, you hear Wonwoo’s breath hitch, lacing his fingers in your hair gently.

Carefully guiding your face closer to him, you stick out your tongue, lapping at the precum that decorates his cock’s bulbous head, and Wonwoo fucking moans at the contact. “Fuck,” he throws his head back, and you can feel your sensitive pussy already begin to heat up again. Eager to please him more, you open your mouth and then quickly close it around his whole top, drinking in the way his grip on your hair tightens. Swirling your tongue around his cock as you slowly push yourself down its length, you moan lowly when his hips jerk into yours slightly, the vibrations only adding to Wonwoo’s pleasure.

“Don’t—fuck nevermind—” Wonwoo grunts, as you pull your head back so that only his tip is brushing against your lips again. Looking up at him with those eyes, you inhale deeply again so you can hollow out your cheeks and push down on him further than before.

You do this a few times, and your jaw begins to ache—Wonwoo is big and his cock is forcing your mouth open so wide you don’t know how you’re even able to move your mouth anymore. Each time you try to push down further, his words of “you’re doing so good angel,” and “fuck, just like that,” are encouraging you to take on more and more and more, and you’re enamored by how you still can’t seem to fit all of him in your mouth.

Using your hands to rub whatever of his length your lips can’t quite reach, you begin to speed up, Wonwoo’s hips thrusting slightly into your mouth simultaneously, and you can now feel his tip kiss the back of your throat. Fighting off the urge to gag, your eyes well up with tears as you grip onto his thigh tightly with the hand you aren’t using to hold him, being egged on by the way Wonwoo repeatedly calls you his angel.As he looks down at you, mouth so fucking full, eyes glassy from the batter of his cock against the back of your throat, Wonwoo can’t think of anything that looks prettier. Not the sunset, not the fields—none of that—just you and all of you.

“Fuck,” his voice is rough and strained as he fights back to cum too early, trying to bask in this moment because holy hell do you know how to use that mouth. “I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he warns as you push down so far he can see how much you’re struggling. You pull off of him with heaving breaths, swiping away the globs of saliva that run down your mouth.

Your lips are red and cheeks are slightly shiny from tears and Wonwoo swears he feels his dick twitch at the idea that he did that to you. “Isn’t that the point?” you murmur, ignoring his words as you return your mouth back to the tip of his mouth, letting your tongue glide over the slit at the top before hollowing your cheeks and letting him use his hands to push you down.

“Fuck, fine,” he groans, being less composed with the way he’s snapping his hips into your mouth. His movements are becoming erratic while yours become sloppy, moving your head up and down so fast it’s dizzying, not pausing your hands rubbing along his length. “I’m gonna cum,” he grunts out one last time, letting go of your hair so you can pull yourself off of him.

The look in your eyes tells him you want otherwise.

Not breaking eye contact, you continue to run your mouth all over his cock, saliva and drool coating your chin in a way that’s so erotic and intimate, it has Wonwoo cumming down your throat within seconds with a heaving groan.

He thrusts into your open mouth a few last times to ride out whatever of his orgasm is left in him before you’re slipping off of him so you can swallow his cum in one large gulp, opening and closing your mouth a few times after to soothe some of the ache in your jaw. Riding down from his high, Wonwoo notices this, gently cupping your face with one hand to look at you carefully. “I’m sorry, did I go too hard?”

You grin, shaking your head. “No. Loved it,” you tell him looking up with bright eyes. Wonwoo feels his heart swell at the sight as he pulls his boxers and pants back on, pulling you up so he can kiss you firmly once before pulling away. You chase his lips for a moment, but he holds back.

“No more of that. I don’t think you’re ready to do another round,” Wonwoo tells you as you roll your eyes, sitting down on his thigh.

“Fine,” you huff, looking out the window to see that the once orange sky is being replaced with a deep purple. “I probably should get back to Kei too…” you murmur to yourself, looking around for your phone to check the time. Wonwoo watches you with his hands on your waist—he finds it so cute how you’re so…comfortable in his hold.

“You wanna drive back to the restaurant now? So you can get your car?” he suggests as you begrudgingly shuffle off of him and out of his hold.

“Yes please,” you reply, not bothering to open the door, simply crawling over the small space between the two front seats and slipping into the passenger seat. Wonwoo waits for you to get over before leaving the car himself so he can move to the driver's seat, fumbling with his keys for a moment before starting the car.

“So, how does it feel to be proven wrong?” Wonwoo asks as he starts driving. You raise a brow at him, signaling him to go on. “You know, since I didn’t kill you and all.”

“I guess you not being a murderer was a pleasant surprise,” you say dramatically. “But be careful Mr. Jeon. I’m on your tail.”

“I haven’t done anything!”

“Not yet.”

You two bicker back and forth and before you know it, the sun has fully set and he’s pulling up to your car parked in front of the restaurant from before. He’s about to get out of the car with you as you reach down to pick up your purse, but you quickly stop him.

“You should probably stay,” you tell him. When he looks at you with confusion, you point at the dark spot on his jeans shyly, giggling at the way your eyes widen. “Yeah, sorry about that,” you murmur. Wonwoo chuckles, looking back at you.

“No it’s okay. It’s hot. But you’re right…I think I’ll just stay in here,” he agrees before letting his gaze fall on you as you place your hand on the door. “Wait,” he says gruffly, and as you turn around you’re met with a soft kiss as he cups your face with one hand. It lasts hardly a second, and when he pulls away his lips pull into a genuine smile. “Text me when you get home, okay?”You nod, butterflies erupting at his care, pulling the door and slowly stepping out. “I’ll see you later, Wonwoo,” you tell him one last time through the open window as you close the door. As you turn around and retreat to your car, all you can think about is how this evening has gone just how you wanted it to, and more. As you begin your drive home, a funny thought pops up in your head among the multitude of memories that make you go giddy.

Jeon Wonwoo may not be a murderer, but he just might be the death of you.

a/n: hope you enjoyed! ngl the past few days have been so shitty for me and my only escape is writing this story bc it makes so happy so ummmmm yeah! i'm not super happy with the ending but i hope it will suffice. please like, reply/comment, and reblog! you can also send me an ask or add a comment if you'd like to be tagged in pt.3 or if you want to be removed from the series tag list c:

tags: @etherealyoungkngk @noonareads @mingycr @everyw0nu @hananibooboo @gaebestie @rhaenyras-raven @spookyauthorspopmusictrash @wonw00t @galursi @horny4hosh @everyw0nu

[payasita]

Good job getting ADHD medication! I’m so proud of you :D

thanks so so much im very happy and so hopeful for the first time maybe ever but also it TOOK ME LIKE. A YEAR. A YEAR.

like yall for real?? for real. for real i have been diagnosed since i was like six. (funny story my teacher thought i was on the spectrum so my parents get me tested with the nodes and shit and according to mom, who loves this story, my neurologist did all that and talked to me and then just turned to my mom and went "she's not autistic. she just hates the other kids" but they DID find an adhd diagnosis in there so net win for all of us)

diagnosed since i was SIX. on stimulants until i turned 8, and you know why i got off em? my pediatrician retired. we could not find another who would take our low-income insurance. so i just had to rawdog The Rest Of My Fucking Life. diagnosed when i was six. legally neurodivergent for 20 slutty slutty angry years.

and it still took me like. a few months to get a psych appointment. a few weeks to reaffirm my diagnosis as an adult. a few more weeks for another appointment for meds. he doesnt Want to do meds first, because i must have been doing fine without them if its been two decades, right? i got a job and a car and everything. well gee fuckin shittickers Dr. Brain Guy, just WHAT was my alternative? would you prefer i be maladapted to the point of incapacitation; is that what it takes for someone to be considered? i cheated my way through school. every day after work i sit for an hour in my car because i dont have the executive function to stand up and walk the ten steps to my house. garbage just appears around me. i have three empty bags of hot chip and two cans of sprite on my desk as we speak, neither from today. at that point i hadnt had a debit card for six months because that would have required me to Drive To The Bank, a location that was new to me in this area, so i just did everything on credit. is this all normal? is this fine? am i GOOD, actually, Dr. WeirdBrain?

so we cordially agree that yes i should probably be medicated. i want to do a stimulant. he does not want to put me on a stimulant. "stimulants can mess with your heart," he says, "and you're young, you don't want heart problems." i say ok because i dont want to make him think im just looking for narcotics. even though i am. because they WORK. i agree to try some kind of antidepressant.

the antidepressant gives me tachycardia. i go to the emergency room after reading a heartbeat of, oh, 140 bpm, which is about like double what it normally is and juuuust below the You Are Having A Heart Attack threshold. i get to the ER and the doctor there is very obviously convinced i'm a local addict having some sort of episode. it is the most ironic experience i've had all year and i feel an abrupt and all consuming kinship with those birds in australia that will swoop you and peck at your face for seemingly no good reason.

so yeah, we narrow it down to the antidepressant. as it turns out, these particular meds are known to, semi-commonly, Mess With Your Heart. i have my next appointment with my psych and somehow refrain from pecking his eyes out. he puts me on a noreprinephrine inhibitor(iirc) that isnt actually FDA approved to treat ADHD specifically(i DEFINITELY rc) but it IS given to smokers to help them quit. i dont smoke. i may very well fucking start before this whole ordeal is at the point where someone listens to me

it obviously does a combined total of jack and shit, and the man waffles with this one because he has "had success" using it as treatment for other ADHD patients. he ups the dose. twice. three months on the smoker meds, which are also apparently notorious for destroying your appetite, but they didnt even do THAT. no change to the average amount of hot chip on my desk.

he wants to try quelbree after that. i finally tell him i'm tired of this shit and would like to have more than two hours of usable daylight to function before it all falls to uncontrollable youtube shorts binges and a daily experience i like to call The Weighted Nothings and i would very much like to PLEASE. TRY A STIMULANT.

he's been friendly enough with me over these past four or five or whatever months but at this he gets suddenly very very business-baseline. gives me the whole spiel about the north american shortage. gives me a spiel about how i absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, lose or sell this medication, because they will not refill it if i do. i am sitting here wondering if he he's telling the truth about having other ADHD patients at all like ever in his career, and also, am i nuts or should the "don't sell your prescription drugs" bit apply to EVERYTHING? i dont fuckin know man i just live here

he says he wants a urine test first. its scheduled for two weeks out. i take it.

"hey uh, your piss came back with cannabis in it" "well it'd be weirder if it didn't, we are in california and i am a kitchen manager" "you can't have weed if you want adderall" "fine i'll stop" "we'll schedule you another test in a month" "aight bet" it didnt go exactly like that but this is kind of what the vibe between us has devolved into by this point.

anyway i wait a month and get a good grade in piss. i get the meds prescribed. i go to fill out the prescription

all i really need to say to you are the words "prior authorization error" for most of you to get what happened next.

the psych isnt even aware. i wait another month for our next meeting, which was yesterday. i do not yell at him. he tells me to take it up with the pharmacy, and yell at them. i am going to yell at them.

so i go, and guess what, it actually went through a while ago! NO ONE TOLD ME OR DR. FEEL-BAD OVER HERE. but we can't fill it right now because its a controlled substance so come back in a few hours. hey it's ready where the hell are you? TAKE YOUR METH AND GET OUT

anyway i started it today, reorganized my pantry, and fixed the fire alarm in my hallway that's been chirping at me for a week. i no longer have to wear earplugs to bed.

and with my newfound executive function superpowers, i will be spraying my weed-free piss all over Reagan's grave.

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ on my mind since the flood ❞ ─ a darling, in any life blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader. summary: the red thread between two people destined to be together may stretch and tangle, but those ties will never break. or: a 45min train ride makes two 43 year olds feel like teenagers. content warnings: divorce babes, divorce. kinda spoiler-ish. watch the 3rd season before. the reader has a backstory and a job, if that bothers you grow up don't read. word count: 960+

Your hair was different, that was the first thing he noticed.

Much like himself, you had soft wrinkles beginning to show up on your forehead and around your eyes, a gift from your late thirties that kept on giving. Your eyes were the same though, he could recognize those anywhere at anytime, even if it had been decades since the last time they stared back at his. Your nose, your lips. Your smile. The way his name sounded coming from your tongue. It was all extremely familiar, as if he was fifteen again.

"You're staring, like a creep, airhead." The old nickname rolls out like you had spent merely seconds apart and it makes him laugh, it has been weeks, maybe months since he last laughed genuinely like that, with his whole face.

"I just got lost—" In your eyes. "In my memories for a bit. You look so much the same."

"Well, my pay check won't allow me any plastic surgeries so—"

"Wise ass." And there it was, like a reflex, his own nickname to you leaving his lips before he even thought about it, if he did think about it he probably would've held it in, a 43 year old FBI agent using childish nicknames not being the best look, but it didn't feel like that with you, at all, it felt natural. You both laugh at it for a second and a comfortable silence follows it, but Aaron couldn't keep it like that, he needed to know more, where have you been, what were you doing... Have you been in Virginia for long? He kept it as casual as he could considering his curiosity, "How have you been?"

"Alright, good, yeah. I’m teaching at Scalia, started this year, I want to keep practicing though, but I’m gonna settle down in Virginia first." You shrug, taking a sip of your coffee. You were purposefully leaving details out, you had seen him on TV a lot since coming back to the states, FBI, profiler. You wanted to see how much could he get from you without words. "What about you, mister FBI hotshot?"

If you two were still teens the way your teasing came out would've made him blush, and quite frankly if he wasn't so self controlled maybe he would've blushed right now, he did feel warm, but instead he just let a chuckle out of his throat, "Well, FBI hotshot just had his divorce finalized, not that glamorous being in these shoes." You already knew what he was doing with his life, it made sense to give the only actual news he had, "Scalia? Law degree too, then." Aaron clicks his tongue, not holding back the instant smirk the realization brought. "Your mother used to say we were so similar we shared the same brain, remember?"

"Welcome to the club, then! Meeting every Friday, membership perks only after the second one, though." His eyes went straight to your fingers, seeing the lack of any rings he nods to himself. Twice divorced. Dark heavy coat, makeup accentuating your features, red lips, hair pulled back. You care about being seen, and desired, but don't want to be approached, a teacher-lawyer, no time, a lot of perfectionism. "Yeah, I stay far away from criminal. Civil and International Law cases mostly. Families, divorces, cross-board custodies." A child of divorce trying to save other children of divorce. Very typical behavior.

Aaron felt like he could stay like this for hours on end, sitting by your side uncomfortably on the train after fate pulled you two to one another again, hearing you tell him about your life in London, your divorces, your time in college. You made him feel young, like you were still his childhood best friend who he fell for. Like if he were to kiss you like he did when you were both thirteen you would still blush and grip tightly on his shirt. Nostalgia was indeed a bittersweet thing.

"I think when you moved away was the last time I openly sobbed." He shakes his head, the thought leaving his brain in a quiet, hushed voice tone, like a secret he wasn't supposed to be telling. It had been years, you were both fifteen when your parents got divorced and you were taken to England with your father. 28 years since the last time he saw you, and he still can feel the same pain if he thinks too hard about it, the way his heart felt like was being sliced apart, getting smaller by the minute as your father's car got further and further away. His mood soured in a way his feelings were only able to function normally again after meeting Haley.

Your hand softly touched his with the confession, your thumb going to his palm and drawing small comforting circles, "I cried myself to sleep a lot that year." Aaron glued his eyes on the way your hands touched, and you thought he might reject it, find it weird after so many years, but instead he just closed his around yours tightly, a silent thankful prayer to the universe, mixed with the warning that he had no intention to let go.

You both stay like that as you talk the rest of the ride, cellphone numbers and e-mails are exchanged, along with longing glances beginning to make you shy like the school girl you once were, when you fell for him the first time. You often wondered what would've happened if you stayed in Washington. Before Jack, Aaron wondered it too from time to time, but truly, he wouldn't do anything different now, he wouldn't choose any alternative ending that would take Jack from him.

But at least now he had a second chance, right?

[lulublack90]

Prompt 23 - Teacher AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 23, word count 966

Sirius had been a teacher for quite a few years, and while he loved teaching the children, his true passion lay in his evening classes. Once a week, he gave up his time to teach adults who wanted to learn and, for some reason, and Sirius was only too willing to help them. 

The class was just beginning. This week, they’d be going over the short story he’d asked them all to read as homework and make a start on one of their own. He’d been told there would be a new student joining them that evening. It was very irregular. Normally, there was a start date that you had to begin at and not come halfway through the course. He’d been assured that the young man had been keeping up at home, but his ongoing health condition had made it impossible to attend the previous classes. 

Sirius sighed when he read the email from the course manager but vowed to help the chap catch up.

He cleared his throat, and his class went quiet. 

“Good evening, everyone. I hope you’re all doing well. Let’s begin with a show of hands. Who’s read the homework?” A sea of hands rose in front of him, and he couldn’t keep the beaming smile off his face. “Excellent! Now, who can tell me why Nellie did what she did?” He pointed at a woman in the back row. “Alice, you’re up.” The short woman checked her notes and began to speak. 

“She was tired of her life and wanted to be free of the chains that kept her there.” 

“Exactly.” He turned and wrote on the whiteboard. “She was a prisoner, and she longed to be free. So when the chance came, she took it. Now, when Nellie escapes, she rushes into the jungle in the dead of night with nothing but a small trunk filled with her few possessions. Was this a good idea or not?” He waited for a hand to go up. He could almost see their brains whirring. The classroom door opened, and a mousy-haired man popped his head around the door. Sirius stared at him, his eyes greedily taking in the slightly flustered handsome man. 

“Are you Mr Black?” He asked politely. 

“Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?” Sirius’s professional brain snapped back on. The man grinned, looking relieved. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I’ve ended up in the wrong room twice, and no one seemed to be able to point me in the right direction.” He pushed the door open and hobbled in. He was leaning heavily on a walking stick and took the only empty seat at the front of the class. 

“Right, where were we?” He asked, having completely forgotten. The new man raised his hand. “Yes—er?” Sirius nodded for him to talk. 

“Remus. Remus Lupin.” Remus helpfully supplied. 

“Thank you, Remus.”

“I think the risk of staying captive was far greater than whatever awaited her in the jungle. However, taking anything other than food and water was risky, but as we know, it worked out for her.” He answered Sirius’s question. 

“Yes, well done. I dare say even if she’d met a tiger while she fled, it would still be preferable to that iron chain, don’t you agree, even weighed down as she was.” His class all nodded at him. “So now free and on the run, no forced to perform, no matter how good she was at the tasks they set her, what do you think made her go the way she did?”

Remus raised his hand again, and Sirius signalled for him to continue. 

“She went home. There could have been something familiar about the surroundings, which is why she escaped when she did. But the inner child in me wants to say it was magic.” Remus grinned shyly at him, and Sirius had to chant to himself that he couldn’t date students no matter how ruggedly handsome they were or how intelligent they seemed to be. He had to swallow before he continued. 

“Yes, I think we all want to believe it was magic, as though she heard her mother calling out to her across the many miles she travelled.” He cleared the whiteboard now they were done with that and wrote up the next part of the lesson. “Okay, I want each of you to write your own short story. It can be about literally anything you want. Make a start now. Plan it out. I want them finished for next week, and I’ll go through them.” 

He gave them a few minutes to start their work and made his way around the class, answering any questions they had. Eventually, he had to talk to Remus. He couldn’t put it off any longer. “How’s it going?” He asked, making Remus jump. He’d been so focused on his work that he hadn’t noticed Sirius approach. 

“Oh-er, it’s going good. I think.” Remus rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Sirius peered down at the paper. 

“A werewolf and a man who can magically turn into a dog and an enchanted forest? Sounds thrilling. I can’t wait to read it.” Remus blushed hard. 

“It just popped into my head.” He admitted. 

“All the best ones do,” Sirius reassured him. “Oh, here, before I forget. Take this. It’s got all my information on it in case you can’t make it for whatever reason or need help throughout the week. I’ll do my best to accommodate you.” He handed Remus the little white card. Their fingers brushed as Remus took it, and Sirius felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him, stemming from where Remus’s fingers had been. They looked at each other wide-eyed and stunned. Well, crap, this was going to be harder than he thought.  

[zvdvdlvr]

— Give Me A Reason

synopsis. You want to be an Auror. As one of his favorite and brightest students, Aesop tries to convince you to not put your life on the line for a job. warnings. Making out. Age gap. Student/teacher. Self deprecation. Reader is the hero of hogwarts. R is in seventh year (aged 18). Mutual pining. Idiots. “In all seven years of my student-ing,” you said abruptly, drawing Professor Sharp’s attention from the essays he graded. “I’ve only heard you bring up your Auror days twice. May I go as far as to ask why?”

The man leaned back in his chair, watching the student he had grown to care for as… Professor Sharp watched you keep a careful eye on your Vertiserum as you organized potion ingredients on his shelves. “There isn’t much to speak about anymore. It was dangerous, and even when it wasn’t… there was never a moment in my life I wouldn’t look over my shoulder at every snap of a twig.”

“But…?” You prompted, knowing the potion’s master had more to tell you: he just liked to torture you.

“But the job has it’s… rewards. The pay is good. I hated the paperwork though.”

“Ew,” you agreed, moving onto the next shelf after adjusting the temperature of the fire below the cauldron.

A seed of fear suddenly bloomed in Aesop’s mind. “Is there a reason you’re asking about Aurors?”

You nodded. “It’s one of the only jobs I’m interested in. I have the grades for it, the experience,” you bit your lip, a rush of memories crossing your brain as you thought about all the escapades you pulled off in your first (fifth) year at Hogwarts. “It’s… the only job I see myself doing.”

Professor Sharp felt his stomach drop. No. There was no way he was sending in one of the brightest students he’d ever taught into a system that would likely kill her. “The paperwork is what you’d be stuck doing most of the time,” the man lied.

You looked surprised. “Oh.”

Aesop felt a flush of hope in his chest, hoping desperately to persuade you away from the career of an Auror. Anything but that.

“I’d still do it,” you said finally, a determined tone in your voice.

The hope died. “I see,” Aesop murmured disapprovingly.

“Why do I get a feeling you aren’t thrilled about my career choice?” You asked, finishing the second shelf.

“I was wondering when you’d catch on. Points to (your house),” Aesop wittly replied. His small smile disappeared. “Miss y/l/n, to be quite frank with you, the job will take a toll on you- mentally and physically. Not only will you undergo numerous field injuries, there is always the chance you would… die. This job is dangerous, isolating, and overall not a very enviable job.”

You just nodded. “I understand that risk, Professor. But I have a reason for wanting the job. I have a reason to put my life on the line for others. A reason for… for my own life to be sacrificed for others to live peacefully, should the time come. I’ve already thought this through.”

“Then tell me your reason. Give me a reason why your life is not as important as others’s?” Professor asked, sharp eyes watching your rigid form slowly turn to him.

“I’ve nothing keeping me here. I have the talent, and you cannot deny it. This- This is the only thing I’ll have after graduation! I- Professor, please don’t talk me out of this,” you pleaded, eyes glinting in the dim light of the classroom.

Now you’ve done it, old man. But he pressed on. “‘Nothing keeping you here’?!” The man stood up, furious, disappointed, and… surprisingly sad. “This isn’t a joke, y/l/n. You have plenty of things ‘keeping you here’! Your little Sallow friend, that Sweeting girl, the blind boy you sit by,” Aesop listed angrily, unconsciously stalking towards you. “Merlin, you have-“ he cut himself off abruptly, realizing the word he was going to say after. Me. Me, y/n, you have me. A part of Aesop scoffed: idiot, you are; only a fool would want an old cripple like you and everyone knows y/n isn’t a fool- besides, she’s a student. Date a student and people are going to wonder if you were given special treatment.

”Who else, Professor?” You asked, tilting your head to look at the man you had been crushing on for the last few years. Please, you thought, say it.

You took the smallest step forward, making Aesop realize how close he was to you. Your intense gaze held him there, refusing to move. He knew what you wanted, and he knew it would be disastrous if he gave in. But, truly, he was only a man. Standing in fromt of an intelligent, talented, beautiful, and witty woman. “Me,” the man whispered, tearing his gaze away from you.

“Give me a reason not to, Aesop. Give me a reason to st-“ you hadn’t finished your sentance before Aesop’s shaking hands grasped your side and pulled, forcing your body against his. He kept one hand on your nack, lightly holding onto him in case you suddenly fled for the door and moved one callused hand to your face. He brushed away a stray hair and his eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” Aesop whispered. His voice, low and gravely, made you shudder against his body.

Your eyelashed fluttered as you struggled to stay calm in his overwhelming presence. “Kiss me.”

Aesop’s lips locked onto yours, a low groan bubbling out of his mouth and being swallowed by yours as you kissed back with the same passion as he. Aesop cursed himself, knowing you could easily realize who you were making out with and run off, taking Aesop’s heart with you.

But maybe you needed this as much as he did. Your small gasps and whimpers surely fanned the flames of Aesop’s hope that you wanted him. Your hand slid up Aesop’s wide back and threaded into his hair, tangling. He groaned at your actions.

You pulled away abruptly, resting your forhead on Aesop’s shoulder. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“Was that good enough of a reason?” Aesop asked, knowing full well you were still probably imagining yourself as an Auror.

“Kiss me again and I’ll see if it was truly satisfactory,” you joked, looking up at the man who’s heart was currently in your unknowing hands.

“Y/n,” Aesop finally murmured, hand still on the small of your back. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

”What?”

“Promise me when you’re on the field… promise me that you’ll be safe.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I promise. Sir, what-“

“I can’t damage your reputation by being in public with you like this. As much as I wish, it cannot be. At least, not in the near future,” he whispered, resting his chin on your head.

“I know.”

Silence fell over the pair: you not wanting to move from Aesop’s comforting arms and Aesop not wanting you to go.

“I think your Veritaserum is done,” Aesop said.

You laughed, still clinging to Aesop.

[voxofthevoid]

We're at Shibuya Swap Wednesday #9, and I still can't predict an end. Part 3 was largely unplotted when I started writing it, and I think I can see the end—and it's miraculously shorter than I anticipated—but let's see how the path there looks.

I didn't write a lot this week, so the fic is at 85k and halfway through Chapter 16. There's a fuckton of conversations in this part because I'm still reaping what I sowed in Part 1. Several bits were like pulling teeth, but I'm happy with the final shape. The following section is a goyuu reunion of sorts:

Yuuji opens the door and steps into the dark.

His eyes don’t need an adjustment period; he’s always had good night vision. The tall figure standing stock-still, silhouetted by the sparse moonlight outside an open window, still makes him startle. A second later, two pools of radiant blue cut through the dark—Gojou’s open eyes, fixed right on Yuuji.

“Gojou-sensei,” Yuuji breathes.

“Hello, Yuuji,” comes the soft reply.

The door gently clicks shut behind Yuuji, almost making him jump. His heart is in his throat, and it stays right there as the seconds stretch on, held in place by reasons better and worse than a door closing on its own. On the opposite end, Gojou is still and unmoving. His features are blank, the shadows on his face made strange by the glow of his own eyes. Yuuji’s known for a while that Gojou’s eyes have their own fire, but he’s never seen them like this.

He’s never seen Gojou like this.

“Sensei,” Yuuji says, speaking in hushed tones on instinct, “I’m gonna turn the light on.”

“Go on,” is all Gojou says.

Yuuji gropes around the walls beside the door, and it’d be easier if he just looked, but he finds that he can’t take his eyes off Gojou. A part of him is afraid, not that Gojou will do anything but that he’ll melt into the shadows if Yuuji takes his eyes off him, vanishing like he was never here.

He finds the switchboard and promptly blinds himself.

“Shit,” he swears, slapping his hands over his eyes. He rubs the tears away, peering out from between his fingers and getting smarting eyes for his trouble. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Gojou says, sounding amused; the familiarity of it makes something in Yuuji unclench.

He blinks and squints until the light don’t feel like it’s stabbing his eyes anymore, and then Gojou’s there in full color, eyes bared and hair down and smiling at Yuuji, as solid as a dream can ever get.

“Gojou-sensei,” Yuuji says helplessly, “you’re back.”

“I am. Miss me?”

“I—yes, I was—”

“Worried?”

“…Yeah.”

Gojou’s smile widens. It’s not really a nice expression, too sharp around the edges, but Gojou means these smiles. They’re real, even if they’re poised to cut.

“I’m not the kind of man,” Gojou murmurs, “you should worry about, Yuuji.”

“Yeah, well…” Yuuji shrugs. “Can’t help it, I guess. And it’s different this time.”

“Oh?”

“You were walking into a trap, weren’t you?”

“Oh?” Gojou repeats with an unholy amount of relish. “You really have been thinking about me.”

Yuuji fights down the urge to throw up his arms. “I just told you that!”

“So you did,” Gojou admits. “No need to worry about your dear teacher—I won’t be outmaneuvered twice by the same person. Once was enough. My pride won’t survive a repeat, and we’d hate that, wouldn’t we?”

“Uh, sure,” Yuuji says, not sure how to say Gojou’s pride isn’t what he’s worried about.

Gojou chuckles like he can tell anyway. “Your mother’s a wily bastard, by the way. I hope you haven’t inherited any of that. I quite like how straightforward you are. You’re not hiding some Machiavellian cunning under all that cute pink fluff, are you?”

“What?” Yuuji asks, his brain stuck on cute pink fluff.

“No.” Gojou tilts his head, humming. “No, you’re a different breed.”

“Okay?” Yuuji wrenches his attention back to the point. “How’d it go? Did you find them, did you—”

“I found the body,” Gojou answers. “Booby-trapped to hell, with the most innovative mix of barriers and seals I’ve ever seen. Maybe I should start teaching you those. See if you’ve got a knack for it. Genetics isn’t everything, but for sorcerers, it means something more often than not.”

Any other time, Yuuji would have leaped at the chance to learn more and get stronger, but right now, all he can focus on is—

“The body?” he asks.

Gojou blinks once; his eyes are glowing even in the bright light. “The brain was absent. The residuals led me on a wild goose chase for a while, but they didn’t lead to anything. I knew it wouldn’t. I was tracking that body’s cursed energy, you see. And I found it. It’s all I found. We should have killed them at Shibuya. But every version of you will be a sentimental fool, won’t you, Yuuji?”

Yuuji takes half a step back before forcing himself to stop. Gojou’s stare is a piercing thing, like twin lasers—hotter than the sun, with none of its warmth. Yuuji feels like it’ll sear off his flesh, chunk of cooked meat falling to the ground at his feet.

He can’t feel Gojou’s cursed energy at all.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuji says very gently, “about your friend.”

Gojou stills, somehow without moving a single muscle. Something seems to suck the air out of the room.

Yuuji smothers the urge to yank the door open and throw himself out of this room. It’s not real anyway. Yuuji doesn’t actually want to run away from Gojou. He’s not scared. It’s just that, sometimes, Gojou gets like this, all silent and still, and every animal instinct Yuuji has starts screaming. It happened with Sukuna too, the one time they met face to face, but Yuuji was too angry then to feel anything else, and it was only later, when the way his spine writhed as Gojou bore down on that volcanic curse felt oddly familiar, that Yuuji even realized that a part of him had responded the same way to that blood-and-bone domain and its vicious master.

With Gojou, there’s no anger to swallow everything else, and Yuuji’s left to grapple uncomfortably with the disconnect between his instincts and his feelings. It makes him feel guilty too. Gojou’s on a whole other level as a sorcerer, as a living being, but he’s still just a person. And he’s Yuuji’s teacher. Yuuji likes him; he worries about him. There’s something profane about any part of Yuuji reacting to Gojou the way it did to Sukuna, and Yuuji has a hundred reasons to want to get stronger, but one of them, close to the top of the list, is that he wants to bear the brunt of Gojou’s power without even a sliver of his soul squirming.

He takes a step closer to Gojou, not once looking away from the violent supernova of his eyes.

Something shifts in Gojou’s expression. It doesn’t soften, but it’s less blank, less alien.

“I’d ask who’s been telling tales,” Gojou murmurs, “but it doesn’t matter, hm? You should save your pity for the ones who matter, Yuuji. My old friend lost that right years ago.”

Yuuji…has no idea what to do make of that.

But he knows one thing. “It’s not pity, sensei. I just wish none of it happened to you.”

“And what would you know of what happened to me?”

Yuuji shrugs, trying and failing to shake off the discomfort layering his skin. “Not much. Just that your friend became a curse user and, uh, died. And then Kenjaku took his body.”

“That’s not all you know,” Gojou says with damning certainty. “Tell me how he died, Yuuji.”

Yuuji looks down at his feet for a moment, breathing in deep. Getting air into him still feel like a fight, and his heartbeat is echoed all over his body, from the skull to the soles of his feet. There’s something unnatural happening.

But he trusts Gojou.

Yuuji looks him in the eyes and says, “You killed him.”

“I did. Are you sorry about that too?”

“Yes, sensei.”

“What if I told you I didn’t even hesitate? He was my best friend, you know. The only one I ever had.”

Yuuji’s eyes smart again, his chest squeezing tight. “That must have felt terrible.”

Gojou blinks.

The air lightens.

There’s a long, heavy sigh, followed by Gojou slumping back against the open window, his entire torso supported by empty space. His eyes haven’t wavered from Yuuji or lessened any in intensity, but there’s a pout on his mouth that doesn’t suit the situation at all.

“Are you for real?” he complains.

“Uh, yes?”

“I don’t believe it. Come here, I need to pinch you.”

“What? I’m not doing that!”

“I’ll come there then.”

“No—eck.”

Yuuji didn’t even see Gojou move, but there are fingers pinching his cheek and a toothy grin filling his vision, and his instinctive struggling does down as he processes the new proximity, the rest of the world fading to make room for the warmth and size of Gojou’s body. He’s so close to Yuuji, their chests almost touching, and more and more of his features burn themselves into Yuuji’s vision. His jaw is a sharp curve, the kind you could cut yourself on, and the rest of his face isn’t any better, painfully pretty. Yuuji can’t help noticing that his lips are cracked, without a hint of their usual glossy sheen. It only becomes more obvious when Gojou’s impish grin eases up, settling into a quiet, crooked smile.

Yuuji stares at them for a very long moment, his mouth drying out to match Gojou’s lips.

He looks up. Radioactive eyes gleam a hot blue, threatening to swallow him whole.

[antimonyandthyme]

sewis batman au

Seb is Not Happy about it.

Mark says, “You like cars,” like that’s any consolation.

“It’d be fine if you were sending me there to watch cars, I do like that,” Seb says. “But you’re sending me there to babysit.”

“You’re talking about the world champion,” Mark says, as if Seb doesn’t know. “World champion seven times.”

“Yes, I’m quite aware of who Lewis Hamilton is, Mark.”

“So we’re all on the same page.” Mark claps his hands together, the way Seb’s science teacher used to do when she’d go Pencils down! at the end of a test. Seb’s pencil was usually already down, the lead broken into two then four then eight pieces because he’d grown bored waiting for the time to run up. Even now it feels like he’s waiting for the world to catch up. “I’m counting on you. Don’t fuck it up.”

Seb opens his mouth to argue, then slams it back shut. Guilt gnaws at him when he sees the stack of reports languishing on Mark’s desk. He’d heard the Chief bellowing at Mark yesterday; everyone had. Gotham Gazette had gotten some very incriminating pictures of Seb letting the Batman into the Royal Hotel.

Police seek help from MASKED VIGILANTE on mayor’s abduction

Jenson slid the paper silently across the desk, only after Seb had his morning coffee in his hands. One look, and Seb knew the damage control would be severe. He hadn’t thought it would involve Gotham’s about-as-interesting-as-a-rock billionaire. The guy’s good at driving fast. Great. That’s about all the personality Seb’s partial to.

“I’d actually take a suspension over this,” Seb says wearily.

“How much does it speak about our sad state of affairs if I tell you I can’t afford that?” Mark sounds equally as tired. The Force is wearing thin with the spate of crime ratcheting at an all-time high. Sometimes Seb steps foot out of his front door and half-expects the pavement to cave away from under him. The city’s running on its own fumes. “You know I can’t afford that.”

“I know,” Seb says. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

“No you’re not.”

No, he’s not. Not twenty minutes in and the Batman had pointed out evidence under the carpet and behind the safe and within the mayor’s pet dog that they would have taken two weeks to find, if they had adhered to proper protocol. Proper protocol! the Chief yelled, and everyone in the bullpen had turned to glare at Seb.

Seb offers his most apologetic smile. Mark rolls his eyes.

“If you’re done complaining, kindly fuck off now.” Mark scrubs a hand through his hair. The grey glinting off his temples makes Seb want to toss a match to the powder keg hiding under the foundations. Just be done with it. If they lose Mark, they lose Seb. If they lose Seb, they lose the Batman. If they lose the Batman, the city is as good as gone. “I’ve got twenty-one complaints to field because of the stunt you pulled yesterday.”

“Yessir,” Seb says. With a little bit of heart injected into it.

--

“Commissioner Vettel,” Hamilton purrs. Seb fights to keep his expression neutral. Hamilton’s arm is heavy around him. He’s dressed in a sleeveless mesh garb for the driver’s parade, even though the weather’s crisp at best. It looks… irritatingly good on him. “I see the Force sent their brightest.”

“Only the best for the city’s elite,” Seb says through a smile pulled so comically across his face it feels like stitches.

“And for the city’s masked avengers, as well.”

The smile drops from Seb’s face. The one on Hamilton’s merely grows. “Hanging out with him when you could be in so much better company, Commissioner,” Hamilton says easily. He pushes close into Seb’s space, and Seb, who prides himself in reading people well, blinks twice at the gates shuttered behind Hamilton’s eyes. “I’d advise you to pick your partners more wisely.”

There’s a split second where Seb hears Mark’s voice—Don’t fuck it up—before all that precaution washes away like rain down a drainpipe. A week ago the Batman had pulled Seb into the protective circle of his arm and chest plate as Alonso’s guards opened fire on them. There was nothing Seb’s Glock could do against three assault rifles. The Batman had taken every single bullet. Then, visibly injured, he’d proceeded to step in front of Seb, and knock the assailants out with their own weapons.

Alonso had escaped. Seb couldn’t have cared less at the moment. “You’re hurt,” he’d cried out, dismayed. The Batman was swaying on his feet. “Let me see, let me see—”

And for the wildest moment, the Batman had almost moved to remove his armour, leaning into Seb, before he stumbled away as if burned. He grappled up a building and disappeared into the night, with Seb calling helplessly after him.

No care allocated for himself. Seb could have hardly picked a better partner. One who's constantly putting himself in the line of fire.

His lips are moving before he can stop himself. “I’m hardly billionaire circle-jerk material, Mr. Hamilton.”

Hamilton’s mouth drops open.

The grin’s back on, stretched out like a Glasgow smile. “Look at this jacket I’m wearing! It’s ten years old, can you believe that? Look at this watch. Complete with blood splatter on its strap, from when I tried but failed to stop a colleague from bleeding out. Why do I keep this still? Maybe I’ve been too lazy to get it changed.”

“Commissioner—”

“And look at these shoes! You won’t believe the shit I’ve waded through in them. Can’t even afford to buy new ones. Do you know what a public servant makes a year?”

Hamilton opens his mouth, almost as if to say yes.

Seb scoffs. “So you see, I’m far more suited to the lowly creatures of society. They've done more for this hellhole than people like you." The urge to defend is so great. "And I dare say the bats in the alleys might even enjoy my company.”

“I dare say they would,” Hamilton says quietly. Seb flicks his gaze up at Hamilton to glare, but Hamilton’s looking at him with the most open expression he’s seen since they were within three feet of each other. They glance away, like chastised children at the principal’s office told to get along.

“So,” Hamilton clears his throat. “If you hate my guts this much, why are you here?”

Seb can recognize an olive branch, even when dangled from the bejeweled fingers of a billionaire. He shrugs. “I like cars.”

“Alright man,” Hamilton says, bumping their shoulders together. He keeps a respectful distance this time. “I buy that.”

--

The five lights go on. Seb doesn’t want to admit he’s standing on his tip toes, trying to peer over a tall mechanic’s shoulder. Hamilton had insisted he be in the Mercedes garage, even after Seb had gone flapping his mouth like a loose carton box. He’d made Seb tea—made it himself, no personal assistant involved. Mixed in sugar and oat milk like he knew exactly what he was doing, which Seb didn’t want to question why he could guess at. Billionaires are weird.

Seb waits for the final beep like the sound of a safety clicking off.

Hamilton gets the best start. Of course he does. Seb unclenches his pumped fist hastily. No one spares him a second glance. Hamilton takes the first corner with Leclerc right on his tail, and then—

Not everyone notices the shots at first. There’s too much noise from the track, and most of them are wearing headphones. But Seb flinches, having come to recognize the sound from daily acquaintance.

“Get down,” he yells. Around him, the crew just looks at him weird. “Get down, someone’s firing—”

Pop pop pop

Now they get the memo. The screams start. Seb grabs at one confused mechanic and pulls him to the ground, points at the entrance, shouts Go, go! They’re sitting ducks here.

Pop pop pop

Seb’s ears are ringing. Two assailants, three? Fuck, four. Seb chances a glance at the monitors, anything to give him a hint as to what’s going on. The race is still going, amid bewildered radios from the drivers. The shots must have been audible in their comms. Seb squints. You notice the silliest things when your life’s in danger. Hamilton’s car is no longer in the lead. He must have been overtaken in the chaos.

He swallows down the oddest sense of disappointment and pulls his eyes away from the screen. Pop, and something bursts into pieces barely two feet from him. Seb scrambles behind some machinery, drawing his Glock from his hip. He’s got no idea where they’re firing from, though he’s never pulled out of a game of chicken.

Deep breath. He peeks out from behind the dented equipment. Pop, it glances close enough for Seb to count that as one of his nine lives gone. He aims in the direction the shot came from, fires one off.

A muffled yell. One down. Seb’s back behind the life-saving machinery. He spots one of the pit crew frozen on his knees in the middle of the floor, stranded like an unprotected island. Seb allows himself a moment of hesitation, and then he’s barrelling for the quaking man, while more shots go off around him, and hauling him behind some tires.

“Stay back—”

He’ll never get used to bullets hitting his vest. They hurt like a motherfucker, tactical lining be damned. Three successive shots to his chest, and the wind gets knocked out of him. He drops to the ground, the debris left over from a hurricane. Alive, he clocks himself. Alive, so get up. Get up, get up—

They never did invent proper bulletproofing for legs. When he gets out of here—if, he gets out of here, Seb is going to make Mark dedicate an entire R&D faction to bulletproofing legs. The pain punches through him, and he collapses on his wounded leg.

Blood’s pouring out. Hold on. Blood’s pouring out at a speed reminiscent of that time when Seb couldn’t stop the bleeding.

More yelling, and the rain of bullets stops. That's good, because Seb can't hope to do a blessed thing at the moment.

“Your femoral artery’s been hit,” someone says. “Hang on, Sebastian. I need to tie this off.”

Seb must be dreaming, because Lewis Hamilton is looming above him. Wasn't he just in a car? When did he get here? When did he get so tall? Oh. Seb’s on the ground, that’s why. Seb’s on the ground bleeding out, and his leg is on fucking fire.

“Hurts,” he gasps. “Hurts like hell.”

“I know, you’re alright,” Hamilton says. “You’re alright, Seb.” He sounds like—like he’s on the brink. Like Seb is standing on the thinnest ice surface, and Hamilton is right there, ready to break through. Seb’s not sure he understands. Hamilton can’t possibly care about him this much; he can’t possibly care at all.

Hamilton’s found some wire in the garage, and he pulls it around the highest part of Seb’s thigh, right up against his groin.

“Ask a man out first, Jesus,” Seb mumbles. He’s not sure he likes the look on Hamilton’s face. Devastation doesn’t suit a billionaire, and maybe some part of Seb still wants to preserve the sanctity of the institutions that run the city. Is it wrong to desire a life where he doesn’t tread from one landmine to the next every other week? Is it wrong? God, what kind of man does that make him?

“I would’ve,” Hamilton says. He’s yanking the wire tight, causing Seb to jerk and scream. Hamilton’s fingers are feather light on Seb’s face. His eyes are raw earth, freshly torn apart by a rake. “I would’ve, baby.”

“Can’t afford dinner with you,” Seb manages. “My yearly salary is—”

“Sixty-eight grand,” Hamilton finishes for him, hauling Seb up. Fuck, the guy’s strong. If he wasn’t about to die this would be such a turn on.

As it stands, dying sucks. The pain is close to unbearable.  

“How—” Seb’s eyelids are flickering shut. Trying to keep them open is not working. The ground is moving beneath him. Ah. The ground is moving very quickly beneath him. Seb’s going to throw up. Or pass out. He hopes it’s the latter.

Hamilton’s chest feels familiar. Seb’s cheek is smushed up against it, and he swears he can hear the thudding of Hamilton’s heart. Don’t Formula 1 drivers have some of the lowest resting heart rates?

With the last of his consciousness, “How do you know how I take my tea?”

“Stay alive,” Hamilton says, far and getting further away from him, “and I’ll tell you when you wake.”

--

Seb throws up on the pillow covers twice before he can force his eyes open. He half expects to see a sleeveless meshed figure by his bed.

He doesn’t know what to feel when it’s the Batman’s situated at the hospital window, watching him. Seb’s sleep hasn’t been the smoothest, and in his most lucid moments he remembers a shadow in the room. Not a bad one. A safe one, a guardian angel. The Batman’s been there for awhile. Standing still as a statue like he’ll stay until the pillars of the city come crumbling down.

“Alonso’s taken care of,” the Batman says. His voice doesn’t have its usual gravelly bite. He just sounds exhausted. “And I saw to it that the guns they were trafficking—”

“You have the worst bedside manners,” Seb says.

The Batman falls silent. He’s cradling something reverently in his gloves. Ah, it’s Seb’s watch. It looks so delicate in his hands. Infuriating, how he never allows himself to touch. How he could have walked two steps to the side of Seb’s bed but instead positions himself far away, stealing one of Seb’s belongings for makeshift comfort.

If he wasn’t so high on meds Seb supposes he would be angry. All he has is the strength to stare at the Batman’s gloved hands.

The reason why Seb’s pencils were always down in science class before the teacher could even announce it: he loves evidence. It’s the cornerstone of everything he does. It’s truth, it’s judgement for those who deserve it, it’s justice. It’s the utter satisfaction when an experiment succeeds, when Phenolphthalein changes colour as an indicator that the acid and base have cancelled each other out.

The Batman’s fingering a spot on the strap of his watch. Not many people would notice that spot. It’s just the tiniest drop of blood.

“Lewis,” Seb says.

The watch slips from the Batman’s fingers. He catches it with lightning-quick reflexes. And then he stands rooted to the ground, every muscle pulled painfully taut. Seb can see right through the mask now, Lewis’ face dissolving in a riot of emotion.

“Come here,” Seb says, and Lewis comes. Silent and obedient like Seb could ask anything of him. The most terrifying entity of Gotham, the only thing the dark’s afraid of, and he’s hunched by the side of Seb’s bed like a sinner in a confession booth. “I’m bang on the money, aren’t I?”

“I said you were the Force’s brightest,” the Batman—no, Lewis, says.

“The most begrudging of compliments,” Seb says.

“I meant it, but you didn’t like it the first time I said it.”

“I didn’t like you then.”

“But,” Lewis swallows. “You do now?”

“You saved my life.” Many, many times. “Kinda hard not to.”

The gloves are brushing against Seb’s hair, with the lightest hint of pressure. Lewis doesn't say, Don't tell anyone. Seb adores him for it.

“Take those off,” Seb complains. He’s bedridden; he’s allowed to be petulant.

A beat, and Lewis strips the gauntlets off. The hand’s back on Seb’s head, stroking, petting. Lewis is looking at him like he’s something the Batman could never be allowed to have. Lewis is touching him like he’s something more precious than the heart of this rotting city. Seb’s eyes are slipping shut. He reminds himself to have a chat with Lewis about this. Mark is going to have to field twenty-one times twenty-one complaints. This will be exceedling complicated. But he doesn’t think the Commissioner of Gotham, or the Bat of Gotham, ever got off with easy.

“About dinner.”

“Might be some time,” Seb slurs.

“I can wait,” Lewis says. “Have done, for awhile now. But I’ve got an open table at the Ocelot.”

“Prick.”

“You like it.”

The hand stays on his head. Seb closes his eyes to the shadows.

[kylobith]

Little Town Tails

Chapter 4: A Fish Out of Water

Summary: Halsin meets the potential new member of his team and tests his craft.

Ship/Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav

Trope: Modern AU, Meet-cute, Little countryside town, Cosy

Word count: 6,034

Read it on Ao3 here

Listen to the dedicated playlist on Spotify here

Pushing his sunglasses further up his nose, Astarion grunts for the hundredth time since he hopped into the car ten minutes ago. With his arms folded against his chest and a straw tucked between his lips as he sips from his cup, he blasts Hungry Like The Wolf through the speakers.

After receiving Karlach’s text message the previous afternoon, he has thought of various ways to care about this new mission that could earn his license back. But not a single reason came to his mind. Sure, he likes cats, but that is about it. Ironically, he does not care enough to spend his life around them, while he gladly welcomed his husband’s tressym when they moved in together a few years back.

But after all, as many of his friends and his husband can testify, Astarion is a man of contradictions.

The car stops in front of a typical old house, whose ground floor has been refitted to welcome a shop or, in this case, a veterinary practice. What a peculiar location for such a thing, he finds himself thinking. It differs greatly from other surgeries he has walked by in the city. Most blend in with neighbouring shops and few notice it unless they peek in or especially look for it. Emerald Grove, on the other hand, stands out by occupying the lower floor of a historic home on the forest’s edge. Most curious choice.

Gale presses the handbrake button and smiles at Astarion, giving him a soft caress on the cheek.

‘Time to go, Starry,’ he murmurs tenderly. ‘You have a good day, mh?’

‘Don’t call me that,’ Astarion replies curtly.

His husband sighs and drops his hand onto his lap. Astarion eyes him from behind his sunglasses and grimaces. No matter how often he has advised Gale against it, he finds it obnoxious how his partner insists on dressing like he is an old-timey esteemed professor at one of the best universities of the land when in reality, he is merely a history teacher at a senior school. On weekdays, Gale is much too reluctant to part from his tweed suits and his antique pocket watch he merely carries around because he believes it makes him look cool. The watch itself has long been unusable. But, as he always says, at least it gets the time right twice a day.

What a dork, Astarion scoffs internally. Yet he cannot help but ogle how the tweed embraces his husband’s curves.

‘Astarion? Are you listening to me?’

‘Huh?’

Astarion snaps back to reality and looks up into Gale’s eyes, elegantly surrounded by browline glasses. Years of being hunched over books even in poor lighting does that to a man.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles, taking another sip from his cup, ‘I was thinking about something else.’

‘Mh,’ Gale responds, knowing quite well where his partner’s eyes have wandered. Not that he minds. ‘I was saying that too many places have refused you for your community service. Without your salary combined with mine, we can’t pay for the house, and you know quite well that it will take us even further away from the city, and that’ll make you miserable.’

His finger strokes the paler man’s jawline.

‘Can you promise me to make an effort this time? I’m worried about you, you know?’

‘Well don’t be,’ Astarion snaps. ‘I just couldn’t care less about these missions they want me to take. I don’t care about the community, I just want my godsdamn job back.’

‘And it will happen, but first, you need to make these hours and redeem yourself. It’s merely three months, Astarion, it will be alright. Plus, see the bright side of things, you’re going to work with Karlach!’

‘That’s the only reason why I came.’

‘No, not really, the other one is that I drove you here.’

Astarion glares at Gale, and the latter laughs as he presses a kiss to his partner’s cheek.

‘Come on now, mister, time to go. Call me when you need me to pick you up, or if Karlach is bringing you home, alright?’

‘Alright,’ Astarion grumbles.

‘Have a nice day, my love. And say hello to Karlach from me.’

‘Mh.’

The pair shares a fleeting kiss and Astarion drags himself out of the car. He waves his husband off, and before he can even make a step, he hears the door of the practice fly open, followed by a squeal.

‘Fangs!’

Karlach leaps out of the practice and enfolds him into a back-snapping embrace as she lifts him off the ground, squealing again. Astarion kicks his legs and grunts.

‘Ow, ow, ow, Karlach! Down!’

‘Whoops, sorry, soldier.’

She puts him back on the ground with an embarrassed chuckle as she looks at his friend.

‘Looking dapper for an interview to work at a vet’s office,’ she notes, eyeing his pristine white shirt and straight brown trousers whose hem stops about two inches above his waxed brogues. On his hip rests his brand-new brown satchel.

‘Well, this outfit certainly looks better than your blue sapphire scrubs, Karlach.’

‘Aw, damn! Halsin said they were teal!’

Astarion rolls his eyes and drinks from his cup again.

‘Anyway. Tell me of this… Halsin. What should I know about him?’

‘Oh, you’re going to love him! He’s great! Super nice, good with animals and all.’

‘I hope so, he’s a vet.’

His friend cackles and nudges him towards the door so they can enter together. As the two stand by the reception and Karlach shows him her desk and the waiting room, Halsin comes in, alerted by her enthusiastic talking. He beholds the tall and slender man with sunglasses on his nose and silky, curly white hair combed back, except for one lock grazing his eyebrow.

‘Good morning,’ he chimes, holding out his hand, ‘I am Halsin, the owner of Emerald Grove. You must be Astarion Ancúnin?’

‘Actually, it’s Astarion Dekarios-Ancúnin,’ the man corrects him while shaking his hand.

‘My apologies. Karlach told me much about you yesterday, but I believe I still have much to learn about you. Would you mind coming with me to my office so we can have a proper introduction?’

‘Sure.’

Halsin grins and shows him to his office, pulling up a chair for him and sitting at his desk himself. He turns around to face his guest, examining his every gesture. Although he is now indoors, Astarion seems to have a mind to keep his sunglasses on.

‘Would you like some tea, Mister Dekarios-Ancúnin?’

‘No, thank you. And uh, Astarion is fine.’

‘Very well.’

The veterinarian leans back against his chair, remembering what Karlach told him about her friend at the end of their shift.

‘So, let us go straight to the point, shall we?’ Halsin suggests, noting the reluctant demeanour of his interlocutor. ‘Karlach told me that you were in a bit of a pickle, as she phrased it. She said you need to do community service so you do not lose your job?’

‘Indeed.’

‘May I ask what this pickle is?’

Astarion sighs and sets his cup down on a small file cabinet next to him, before reaching into his satchel. He takes out a thin binder with all the documents relating to his current situation, forms that must be filled in should Halsin decide to take him in, and other decisions made by his firm’s board and the judge. He hands it over to his host, who skims through the carefully sorted file.

‘I work as a lawyer in the city for the Szarr Associates,’ Astarion begins to explain nonchalantly, having explained the whole story countless times already to the point where it has become almost mechanical. ‘And I messed up. I was on thin ice already because some of my colleagues suspected that I breached my clients’ confidentiality on multiple occasions and used that to win their cases. Plus, a few of my recent clients fired me from their cases. That was a new development in my career, truth be told.’

He runs a hand through his hair and drinks. Halsin continues to peruse the document with a crease on his brow.

‘But one night I was caught drunk driving, speeding, and shouting obscenities to the police. My driving license has been taken away, and my firm has decided to temporarily suspend my license. I got away easy only because the judge knew me well and felt pity for me, or something of the kind. He said that if I could do three months of community service, I could ask for a hearing and I could potentially get my license back and work again.'

Halsin closes the binder and hands it back to Astarion. A pang of worry tugs at him. Even though the younger man is Karlach’s friend, so far he does not strike him as somebody who can be trusted. Thankfully, it is not another veterinarian he is seeking, but merely someone who can complete sewing projects for him so the animals under his care can receive the best care he can offer. Yet, he finds it quite important to trust everyone working at his practice. He has not saved up for years to have one element throw his life project away.

‘That does not look too good on you, I am afraid,’ he confesses to the younger man. ‘Have you already done some hours for your community service?’

‘Of course,’ Astarion replies, his voice dripping with quite misplaced sarcasm, ‘I have done my hours, that is why I came here!’

‘How good are you at sewing?’

His sudden, off-topic question seems to throw Astarion off guard. He stutters for a moment, wondering whether all of this is a joke, a bad prank organised by Karlach. No. She would not do this to him in such trying times, especially if Gale is already breathing down his neck instead of nibbling lovingly at it. Ugh.

‘Sewing is my favourite hobby,’ he answers, a bit more quietly and seriously this time. ‘Would you like me to show you some pieces?’

‘By all means!’

Astarion reaches into his pockets and stands up for a moment to give Halsin a single twirl.

‘I made this outfit, to begin with,’ he says, slowly gaining in confidence. ‘Just not the shoes, of course.’

He sits back and begins to scroll through his social media to find photos of clothes and accessories he has created over the years. Halsin rolls his office chair to come next to him and look at his screen. Astarion shows him a variety of projects, some that the veterinarian believes to be worthy of the greatest designer brands.

In one photo, Astarion poses in a burgundy blazer with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Three thin chains hang from one hem to the other, resting against his torso, clad in a black, skin-tight turtleneck. The second picture of the post displays the back of the blazer and its magnificent floral design, embroidered with silver and gold thread.

Another post shows him again, modelling a striped shirt, unbuttoned at the top and tucked into elegant corduroy trousers. On his head rests a broad felt hat, which he customised with a different ribbon and feathers for a vintage and extravagant look.

The next one shows Gale shyly exhibiting a purple jacquard waistcoat, accessorised with his pocket watch, of course. Astarion tells Halsin that, while he did not make the jacquard pattern himself on the fabric, he did embroider the hems with golden thread and used antique buttons because he knew that his husband would be crazy about them. And he had been right, it seems, since Gale nearly wept with joy at their sight when he first saw the result.

Halsin nods all along, impressed by his skill and his obvious sense of aesthetics. Astarion seems to have quite an eye for it and he does not hesitate to flaunt it even just in the way that he photographed each outfit to post them to his social media.

‘When Karlach said that you were good with a needle, I certainly did not expect this,’ Halsin confesses with a soft chuckle. ‘If anything, she has undersold you.’

‘Karlach does not know how to dose her praise,’ Astarion sniggers, slipping his mobile phone back into his pocket. ‘Either she exaggerates one’s greatness, or she does not do it enough.’

‘The first option is the most common, isn’t it?’

‘Quite right.’

They share a laugh and Astarion drinks the last of his beverage, his suction noises filling the room. He gives Halsin an apologetic look, but the latter shrugs it off, allowing him to catch every last drop before resuming the conversation. 

‘Has Karlach told you what the idea of your work here would be?’

‘Not really. I figured you needed somebody to cuddle with the recovering pets, or to hold them down when they’re reluctant. But now that you mention sewing, I am praying that you’re not asking me to stitch them up during surgery.’

‘Hah, not at all. Let me show you.’

Halsin rolls back to his desk and unlocks his computer. He clicks on the tabs he left open for this interview of sorts and displays the broad pillows he wishes to acquire for his practice.

‘These pillows are quite affordable for me when they are in standard sizes,’ he begins, ‘but I need them much larger. We opened two days ago only, and we had a surprise with our first patient.’

‘A very big shepherd dog?’

‘An owlbear cub.’

If Astarion still had something to drink between his hands, he would have spat it all out in shock.

‘A what now?’

His host laughs warmly and shows him his notebook, where he has scribbled down the approximate measurements he would need the pillows to be.

‘Do you think that you could make, say, three of those to be safe? Perhaps two even larger ones if the need arises?’

‘Are you planning to heal all the animals of the forest? Perhaps an actual bear next?’

‘Hah, I would in a heartbeat,’ Halsin admits with a smile. I did think of a wide table for consultations and surgery, but nothing for the recovery. The owlbear was a harsh reminder that any situation can occur and I should be prepared for it.‘

‘I see. Well, that should be doable. I can see how the smaller ones are built and I can make the larger ones from there. That shouldn’t be too much of a challenge.’

Halsin nods in approval and proceeds to open the tab for surgery recovery suits for cats and dogs. Astarion only needs to catch a glimpse of what they are before shrugging.

‘Oh, easy. I have one of these at home from when my husband’s tressym needed to have a cyst removed. I can make some for tressyms, too. They’re built a bit differently because of the wings.’

‘Good thinking,’ Halsin reacts. Another thing he has not considered. ‘If you could make several of these, perhaps enough for a small stock, I would be beyond grateful. These will be given out for certain recoveries only, others will just require the cone.’

‘I can even make these pets look quite fashionable post-surgery.’

The veterinarian laughs, clapping his massive hands once.

‘That will not be needed, that might be a tad much. Practicality and comfort need to be prioritised over beauty here. However, I can compromise and let you choose different fabrics, so long as they are suitable for the animals’ recovery and within budget. I am not strict when it comes to prints, although they must remain presentable, of course.’

‘How about I go home and fetch the tressym’s shirt to study the pattern and I make you one by the end of the day? Then you can judge the quality yourself and base your decision on it.’

Halsin considers Astarion’s offer for a second, then nods in approval.

‘Very well. I will ask Karlach to drive you home so you can fetch your material and equipment and then you can work in the recovery room, there will be plenty of space for you to work. Would that be suitable for you?’

‘Perfect,’ Astarion smiles, internally cursing Halsin for not letting him work from home instead. He has no wish whatsoever to bring all his equipment from his house, but what choice does he have?

‘That settles it, then.’

The two of them stand up and Halsin tosses Astarion’s empty cup into the bin, before showing him back to the reception. Karlach instantly looks up, eager to know how it went. Before she can even ask, her boss hands her a set of keys.

‘Could you drive Astarion to his home so he can bring his equipment here? You can take my car, it is parked on the side of the house. I also would like you to use the company card and let him buy some suitable fabric for his tryout from the haberdashery.’

‘Ugh,’ Astarion groans with a roll of his eyes, ‘from the fabric shop, grandpa!’

‘Sorry?’

‘Nothing!’

Without wasting time, Karlach links arms with Astarion and guides him out to Halsin’s car, already chatting away happily. Left alone at the practice, Halsin sighs and stretches his back, before sitting behind the reception and browsing the latest wildlife photography posts on his favourite blogs and forums.

While his assistant and her friend are away, he answers a few phone calls and makes some appointments for new furry patients. Some of the owners, much to his delight, already tell him that they wish to transfer their pets’ files over to his practice out of practicality, but in some cases, because they only heard praise about his work. He already creates some of the files and sends the right requests to have the medical records passed over to him, then re-organises his agenda.

Four appointments occupy the first half of his morning, all going smoothly. One of his patients, a tiny puppy whose expression when panting always makes it look like it is smiling, came for his very first visit to the vet. Remembering Karlach’s advice, Halsin asks his owner if he can take a picture of the puppy so he can update Emerald Grove’s social media page and build a small community around it. He gives the dog two treats and waves it off as the satisfied owner leaves, eager to find his puppy’s photo online.

Halsin sits back on his chair and writes the post with the puppy’s picture, praising the little dog’s bravery during his first consultation, using its name with the owner’s consent. But as he is about to post it, the door opens and the little bell rings. Before he can look up, he hears a roaring but friendly voice.

‘Halsin, my good friend!’

‘Good morning, Minsc!’ he greets back, locking his phone and putting it away in one of the drawers. ‘How have you been?’

The forest ranger wipes his feet on the mat and steps forward with a beaming grin. Minsc is as tall as he is, making them stand out in town, and probably as broad as him as well. However, unlike the long and plaited locks on Halsin’s head, Minsc’s scalp is bare, only decorated with a purple tattoo that also covers his eye.

Minsc was one of the first people that Halsin met when he came to Heawick, back when he hesitated between settling down here or in Riverway, about thirty miles north. It was, partially, the ranger’s depiction of life in this town that tipped the scales in its favour. The eternal optimist, Minsc described it as a haven of peace, perfect for writers and those who have grown weary of the bustling city. He was quite right, from what Halsin has experienced so far. Everybody knows everybody, even between the neighbouring villages, and it seems that anyone is willing to go out of their way to give friends and acquaintances a helping hand.

Ever since he made his decision to make Heawick his home, Minsc regularly invites him over to his home for the occasional drink in his garden. There could not have been a more friendly face for one’s drastic life change.

‘Minsc has been good, my friend,’ the ranger replies in his thick accent, clapping him in the back. ‘He was wondering if you had some time to see Boo today?’

‘Anything wrong with your hamster, Minsc?’

‘Miniature giant space hamster,’ his friend corrects him with a finger pointing up. ‘The distinction is quite important. As vet, you should know.’

Halsin chuckles and notices Boo peeking out of Minsc’s breast pocket, rubbing its head with its tiny paws.

‘Boo is strong and well, only his claws are too long. Minsc told him to wear them down more often on wood, but Boo has mind of his own. A bit stubborn, at times.’

‘That is not a problem at all, follow me.’

He takes the wireless phone from reception and drops it in his pocket while guiding Minsc to the consultation room. Without being asked, Boo hops onto the table, continuing to take his bath. Halsin puts on his gloves and grabs the pet nail clipper. Minsc gently holds Boo in the palm of his hand.

‘Minsc holds Boo. He wouldn’t want him to think that you are foe, my friend! Oh, heard about Mr Bongle from Combury?’

Halsin smiles to himself and nods.

‘I have,’ he speaks quietly while starting to trim the hamster’s claws. As Minsc said, they have not been worn down in a while, considering how curved they are. ‘He confessed to setting up the bear trap in Combury, I heard?’

‘Yes! Minsc thought that Tav would gouge his eyes out on the spot! And honestly, he would not have intervened, no. Minsc doesn’t understand people’s cruelty with animals. Why do it? Animals are friends, unless they try to maul you.’

The concentrating veterinarian chuckles at these words. Tav has not struck him as a woman who would resort to violence, but he has witnessed firsthand how attached she is to her owlbear. Unless relocated, Beaky will never know a neglecting or abusive home, and he is sure of it.

‘Quite right. I do not understand it myself either.’

‘Do you know if Beaky is recovering well?’

‘No, I do not. He went home yesterday morning and I have not heard anything from Miss Ashguard since.’

‘Oh.’

Finishing up the hamster’s hind paws, Halsin moves on to the front pair.

‘She told me that you referred her to an animal protection lawyer. I am glad that you did.’

‘Ah, Minsc only does his job.’

‘Still. With Mr Bongle agreeing to cover the veterinary costs, it was easy for you or even her to drop the matter altogether. But I am happy to hear that you decided against it. Besides, if you or she needs Beaky’s medical report following the incident, I will be happy to make one. You can refer the lawyer to me if they get in touch with you.’

‘How nice of you, my friend! Perhaps it will be handy. Tav will tell,’ Minsc declares, before looking down at his hamster and smiling. ‘Boo will make sure that nobody hurts Beaky anymore!’

‘That is an honourable goal,’ Halsin laughs, cutting the last of the animal’s nails. ‘And here you go.’

‘Thank you, friend!’

Halsin quickly writes down the impromptu consultation in his log and removes his gloves, tossing them in his bin.

‘If Boo is unwilling to walk on wood to trim his nails, I recommend that you use cork wherever it is that he spends the night. If he has a food bowl, coat the path around it with cork so he will walk on it. You can also put some on his wheel, but I do recommend buying one that already has that. I can send you a link for it.’

‘Great advice, Minsc will look for that. Do you hear that, Boo? You need to walk on cork!’

He lifts his hamster and tucks it in his pocket again. After a brief conversation, Minsc pays for the consultation and leaves in even higher spirits than when he arrived. Soon after, Karlach and Astarion return, carrying his sewing machine and a bag of supplies, some that he already owns and others they acquired at the fabric shop.

Karlach takes Astarion to the recovery room and brings him a chair for him to work in a comfortable environment. She closes the door behind her as she returns to the lobby, finding Halsin standing there.

‘Hiya there, Doc! Astarion’s about to start making the shirt.’

‘Perfect.’

‘Anything happened while we were gone?’

‘All four patients were received, and Minsc came to have Boo’s nails trimmed.’

‘Aw, dang! I’m gutted that I missed him, I love this guy.’

She sits behind the desk at reception and checks the agenda for the other appointments of the day. Halsin has a look as well, then proceeds to show her the post he wants to post with the puppy he examined earlier in the morning. Karlach takes his work phone and tweaks the text, explaining as gently as she can — which means not subtly — that his manner of writing makes him sound antiquated.

Halsin takes no offense, however. He is much aware of how little experience he has got when it comes to social media. He used to have his own profile, but besides using it for the occasional farming game, he found little use to it. In truth, he struggled to even comprehend how it worked. There was never any profile picture set, since he did not know how to upload one. It was Karlach who taught him how for the practice’s official page, and even then, he still struggles with it all. Not that it occupies his thoughts much, of course.

Once Karlach has posted the photo online, Halsin leans towards her and whispers.

‘Karlach, this friend of yours, do you trust him when it comes to working? He told me what caused him to lose his license and I must say that this worries me.’

The tiefling smiles, although taken aback by the sudden question.

‘I would trust him with my life, and you know that I don’t give my trust to just anyone,’ she declares with a solemn tone that strangely does little to ease Halsin’s worries.

‘His work… problems, do you know if they are commonplace with him? Do you think I should call his manager at Szarr for a reference?’

‘No need, Doc!’ Karlach responds while waving a dismissive hand. ‘He’s just going through a rough time. Actually he’s one of the best lawyers in his firm! If there’s a dire case, they usually refer to him.’

He nods slowly. He is struggling to figure Astarion out. He is a man who obviously possesses a lot of talent, especially when it comes to sewing. If anything, Halsin cannot wrap his head around the fact that he is a lawyer and not a designer or tailor. Perhaps this sort of career would suit him better.

But what could have driven such a successful lawyer, if he is to trust Karlach’s word, to throw it all away so recklessly? Surely if he has so little consideration for his career, there must be something at hand. If he is experiencing a burn-out, there are other ways for him to cope, and surely Karlach, as his good friend, would have advised him to seek medical help. And if the matter is one of the heart, then that is quite a different problem. She could do her best to help him, but ultimately he has to be the one to cope with the issue. However, it seems that he is married, and the waistcoat that he designed for his husband is quite recent. Merely a month old.

What to do?

‘Well. I will not call his firm,’ Halsin sighs. ‘I will trust you on this.’

‘You will not regret it, Doc, I promise you.’

He smiles at her and pats her shoulder, which instantly illuminates her eyes.

‘After all, it is just for three months and it is merely sewing. Nothing so dire as pet surgery.’

‘Exactly! Plus, he loves sewing and working on his own. He hates it when people are in his space when he’s focused, so that’s a win-win situation if you ask me.’

‘We shall see. The pet shirt will decide.’

Halsin grins and paces towards his office. He sits behind his desk with a sigh and grabs the salad he has been keeping for his lunch break, but since he is already hungry, he prefers to indulge himself already. While chewing his seasoned lettuce, he opens his browser and pauses, thinking about something to search for. He eyes his tasklist but sees that he is up to date already.

Without thinking, he types in the words ‘Szarr Associates’ and reads about the law firm. When skimming an article in an opinionated online newspaper, he grimaces when he reads that the firm has a tendency to save the hinds of big corporation leaders when sued for environmental damage or violation of workers’ rights. Decidedly, that is not improving his image of Astarion.

Putting his fork down, he adds ‘Ancúnin’ to his research and finds a few articles from several sources. He clicks on the first one, a news site supposedly neutral. Under the title is a photograph, and he quickly recognises Astarion in his robes, raising his hand at prying journalists while accompanying a man with a sombre expression on his face.

‘Big win for Arledrian Group, sued by a worker’s union for an alleged case of salary withdrawal. Wilril Mistflow, 28, joined the union after his employers supposedly refused to pay out overtime hours after several months. When Mistflow demanded to receive his payment, he claims that the company repeatedly withheld his salary, causing him to fail to pay his rent on multiple occasions. “This whole debacle has almost cost me my home,” Mistflow declared to the press. “I can only hope that they will see reason and finally give me what they owe me. I worked extra so I didn’t have to worry at the end of the month, but it’s done just the opposite.” Ruthos Sine, the regional manager of the branch where Mistflow is employed, appeared at court under the counsel of Astarion Dekarios-Ancúnin, a top lawyer from Szarr Associates. The court ruled that Arledrian Group was not at fault and a contract termination has already been issued against Mistflow.’

Halsin shudders at the thought that Astarion has defended such people and managed to save them from trouble for what seems to him like sheer injustice. He sighs and plants his fork in his salad, trying to put things into perspective. Defending such scum is merely Astarion’s job. Justice cannot be carried out fairly unless all parties are represented, and that only means that Karlach’s friend is a link in this chain. Hopefully that is not telling of his character.

Putting his morals aside for the time being, Halsin finishes his food and spends the day doing his work. About two hours after Karlach and Astarion returned from the fabric shop, they hear the faint clicking sounds of the sewing machine inside the recovery room. Halsin’s worries are somewhat quelled; at least it seems that the deprived lawyer does take his task seriously.

When the last patient leaves and it is closing time, Astarion comes out with a bunch of folded fabrics under his arm. Karlach locks the door and turns the sign on it, while Halsin wraps up his call to a supplier to order more dog kibble for the practice. Upon seeing the pale man, still with his sunglasses on, he rushes the conversation and eventually hangs up.

‘Ah, Astarion, there you are! You did not even take a break, are you not hungry?’

‘Oh, no, I’m fine,’ he mumbles. ‘Big dinner at home tonight anyway.’

‘I see. Did everything go well?’

Astarion walks over to the counter and unfolds all three shirts that he has created. He made them in different sizes, all befitting several types of animals. The first one, cut from an elastic fabric with floral patterns is perfect for a kitten around sterilisation age. Its hems are decorated with pleated green fabric, giving the impression that it has sleeves. The second one, adorned with blue feathers on a white background, stands out with adjustable holes cut out in the back. The third, suitable for a dog, was sewn from a burgundy fabric with paw prints and adorned at the collar with a fake lace ruffle.

Halsin chuckles at the sight of the frills and picks them up to examine the handiwork.

‘We will not need all these fashion details,’ he says, ‘since they are supposed to remain medical garments. But I must admit that the diversity in patterns is something we can offer. I suppose it can help the owners with dealing with the surgery as well. It makes the whole thing seem less dramatic.’

Karlach gasps as she admires the garments over his shoulder. Maintaining a serious and professional demeanour, Astarion steps forward and picks up the second suit to show its structure.

‘This one is modelled after the tressym shirt that I brought as reference. Technically it was just a cat shirt that the vet adjusted for our Tara. Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough push buttons for this one, but I marked where I’d position them on the flaps. They can be adjusted according to the tressym’s wing size.’

‘Quite clever.’

Halsin takes a deep breath and looks the younger man in the eyes.

‘Listen, Astarion, I have done a superficial background check on you. I read that you are quite the prolific lawyer, but your recent… blunders do worry me. If I take you in for your community service, can I trust you?’

The man, put on the spot, is about to grace the veterinarian with one of his usual snarky remarks. But when he sees Karlach giving him a reproving look while Halsin is not looking, he stops the words from flowing out. He merely clears his throat, although visibly bugged by the question.

‘You can.’

‘Uh, Fangs?’ Karlach calls him in a soft tone, which earns her a glare from Astarion. ‘Perhaps you should let him know about your condition?’

Halsin frowns and looks back at the younger man, who sighs and finally removes his sunglasses. Under them, ruby-coloured irises seem to have been the object of this attempted dissimulation.

‘Oh,’the veterinarian says in a surprisingly calm tone. ‘I see.’

‘Yes, I’m a vampire,’ Astarion scoffs and clicks his tongue. ‘I suppose that it’s the moment you kick me out?’

The older man chuckles and shakes his head.

‘Not at all. If you can promise that the animals and owners here are safe around you, then I see no issue with your condition.’

Astarion appears genuinely surprised to hear that he is not about to be thrown out the door for his nature. His fingers fidget with the tressym shirt as he thinks over a way to thank him. But thanks are not often part of his vocabulary.

‘I promise,’ he declares, biting his tongue.

Halsin considers him for a second, before holding out his hand.

‘If you think I can trust you and if you think you could survive working here for as long as you need to have your license back, then do you think you could come back tomorrow?’

The vampire stares at the hand for a moment and finally allows a smile to grace his cheeks. He shakes his hand firmly.

‘Now that is done, I will discuss some details with you. Since you are a vampire, you are allowed to bring blood into the office as long as you don’t scare the patients and owners off. I can allow several breaks for your back’s sake and you can fetch blood from the butcher’s while on the clock, as long as you do not abuse the opportunity.’

‘Sounds good.’

Halsin nods and pats his back.

‘Welcome to the team, Astarion.’

Taglist: @emmanuellececchi @reignydeys @cakenpiewhyohmy

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence" Pt 6

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, predatory behavior, teacher/student, bathroom use control, humiliation, omarashi

Summary: Steve is called to help out with Bucky, who is throwing a bit of a tantrum over the embarrassing bathroom protocol.

(Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter! Masterlist)

Part 6 - An Egregiously-Long Bathroom Break

Bucky tenses when Headmaster Rogers’ imposing form rounds the corner into the bathroom. The alpha looks vaguely amused as he walks over to the stall where Sharon’s been holding Bucky hostage. “ ‘Morning, Ms. Carter,” he says. “I’ll handle this from here.”

“Great.” Sharon sounds bored of the whole affair, and she isn’t looking at Bucky to catch the dirty look he sends her. She’s got her phone out. She’s scrolling. Bucky scowls. “I’ll wait in the hall?” Sharon asks.

“No.” Steve’s eyes stay glued to Bucky. “Why don’t you return to Mr. Barnes’ French class. That way you can help him catch up on whatever part of the lesson he’ll have missed from taking such an egregiously long bathroom break.” 

“Sure thing.” She glances briefly to Bucky on her way out, making a dubious ‘good luck with that’ face. 

Bucky huffs. Sharon leaving is somehow both a relief and a disappointment, because he’s glad to be rid of her, but now he’s left to square off with his new Headmaster. Alone. He tries to act unaffected, but that’s not exactly easy to do when he’s already cornered with a full bladder. Steve is standing several paces away from the stall, and Bucky eyes up the distance between the two of them, and then the distance between himself and the restroom entrance. He considers making a break for it, thinks: fuck it, why not? And gives it his best shot. 

He’s fast, but he’s not that fast. Steve, the long-legged bastard, just glides to the side with his arms outstretched, blocking the already slim window Bucky had to get by him. He tuts mockingly. “Ah ah, don’t go running off, now. I thought you had to go to the bathroom.” 

“I can hold it,” Bucky grits, feigning left and then jerking right, but Steve anticipates it and moves with him. 

“Stop,” Steve says, a hint of sterness to his voice this time. “Bucky, this is already embarrassing for you. How much worse do you want to make it?” He tilts his head warningly. “It’s entirely up to you.”

Bucky grinds his teeth and takes a step back, and Steve steps in; once, twice, backing him right back into the same stall he just bolted out from. Steve gives him a look, and Bucky tries not to act cowed. He’s not stupid: he can tell he’s about to be in trouble,he just doesn’t know to what extent, yet. He stands tall and juts his chin out, making sure that nothing in his posture speaks to submission. “Hi Steve,” he says, impudent, enjoying the flash of annoyance he sees in the alpha’s eyes.

“Sweetheart,” Steve purrs. “You can feel free to call me Mr. Rogers, Headmaster, Alpha; even Steve, if I give you permission. But the next time I hear you addressing me like I’m your buddy, you’re taking a trip over my knee.”

Bucky’s pulse quickens at the threat, though he fights not to let it show. He continues to look down his nose as Steve (quite the feat, given that the man’s taller than him). “Sure, whatever,” he says. “Look, let’s get something straight: I’ll wear your stupid uniforms and follow all your antiquated rules, but I am not gonna sit here and take a piss while some chick watches. That’s fucked up.”

Steve raises an eyebrow and takes another step closer. Bucky takes an automatic step back, his calves bumping into the toilet bowl as Steve corners him. The alpha crosses his arms over his chest, his huge body filling up the doorway of the stall. “Well it sounds like we’re at an impasse, then,” he says.

Bucky gulps, regretting not having tried harder in his escape attempt. Now he’s trapped, and he starts to lose his composure as Steve stares him down and the urge to bear his neck (and pee) grows more intense. “Why does she have to watch?!” he finally breaks. “Huh? What’s the fucking point?!”

“Because, Mr. Barnes, it’s protocol.”

Bucky growls. “That’s dumb. You guys really get your rocks off like this?”

“It has nothing to do with us and everything to do with you,” Steve corrects him, his calm tone only serving to infuriate Bucky further. 

“Sounds like a piss kink to me,” he sneers. “Sorry, Headmaster, but I’m not into watersports. Though if it’s important to you, golden showers can be negotiated for a fee. Me showering you, of course.” Steve looks thoroughly unimpressed, and Bucky purses his lips at having failed to get a reaction out of him. “I’m not sitting down so you can watch me pee.”

Steve sighs, the deep inhale lifting his shoulders and actually making them touch the stall dividers at either side. “It’s not about peeing, Sweetheart. Okay? It’s about surrender. You don’t need to fight me over this. This is how it is for all the students, it’s why there aren’t doors on the stalls. It’s meant to be a very basic exercise in submission.”

Bucky sneers. “Pissing in front of Sharon is an exercise in submission?”

“Yes. Using the bathroom in front of your Alpha after getting their permission to relieve yourself is submission. Not being allowed to hide any part of your body or its functions is submission. It’s about giving up that autonomy.” He meets Bucky’s gaze head on, brow quirked. “You’re a smart girl, I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you how intimately bladder control is tied into dominance and submission—for omegas and alphas.”

“First of all, I’m not a girl,” Bucky growls. “And I’m not gonna squat over this toilet like one so that you can feel all superior or whatever.” He crosses his own arms, mirroring Steve’s dominant posture. “You must have a tragically small dick or something, huh? Is that why you’re so obsessed with this stuff? Just trying to prove what an Alpha you are?”

To Bucky’s dismay, Steve laughs. It’s just a short bark of a laugh, and he contains himself fairly quickly, but the smile that flashes over his face is genuine, and still striking enough to make Bucky’s stomach swoop. “Sure, Sweetie,” he says, voice dripping with condescension. “If that’s what makes you feel better to imagine.” He takes a step forward, and with the toilet already directly behind Bucky’s legs, there’s nowhere left for him to go as Steve moves in and grabs him. 

“Hey!”

“Hush up.” Steve unceremoniously hikes the dress up and shoves Bucky’s underwear down, and before Bucky can try to grab at his clothes to put them back in place, Steve is pushing on his shoulders to force him down, bare-assed and startled. “Sit.”

Bucky lands with a clack of the toilet seat and a surprised yelp. He watches with wide eyes as Steve crouches in front of him. “What are you doing?” he squeaks.

“Helping you.” Steve holds him down when he tries to get up from the toilet.

“Hey!” 

“Shh. Don’t fight me, Bucky. You’re just going to exhaust yourself.”

Bucky thrashes, realizes the strength of Steve’s grip, then thrashes again. “Stoppit!”

“Calm down.”

“I’ll go, okay?” He huffs, trying to bargain even as he keeps pulling. “I said I’ll go! Just—ugh!—just let me up!” But Steve’s hands grip him solidly, and it’s distressing how strong he is, how useless Bucky’s struggles clearly are, even with the alpha kneeling down at his level with little to no leverage. Steve’s not even out of breath. “Let. me. up,” Bucky grits. “I’ll pee, if you just let me stand.” He jerks his shoulders again, trying to get free.

“Ah ah ah, Little one,” Steve tuts. “That’s not what’s happening. Good omegas urinate sitting down, okay?”

“No!” The more upset Bucky gets, the more obnoxious Steve’s unwavering composure becomes. “Let me go.”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ in an eerily similar way to Bucky’s dick of a stepfather, still calmly controlling him and catching his hands each time he tries to hit. “Use your words, baby.”

“I tried that, you prick. You’re not fucking listening.” He brings his fist up, but Steve catches it and pulls his hand back down like it’s nothing. 

“Neither are you, Little one.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“This is very simple. You’re making it way harder than it has to be.” Steve gives his shoulders a stern squeeze. “You’re not getting out of this, Bucky. We’re going to stay right here until you use the toilet the way I’m telling you to.”

Bucky’s entire face is boiling hot, he’s so mad and embarrassed. “Lemme go!” he rages. “I don’t have to go anymore!”

“Oh, I think you do, Sweetheart.” The deep rumble of Steve’s voice sends Bucky’s belly fluttering (and that does not help with the urge to pee). He leans in closer, keeping an iron grip on Bucky’s shoulder and grabbing at his naked hip with his other hand. It slides under the bunched-up fabric of the dress, fingers digging into the soft give of Bucky’s waist as he comforts, “Shh sh sh, it’s okay. Calm down, Baby. This is happening, you need to accept that.”

Bucky’s growls devolve into pleading cries at the feeling of being held down, at being on the receiving end of all Steve’s forceful and steady refusal. “Nnn!” His thrashing gets him nowhere, except out of breath and hot-faced. Overwhelmed tears build up behind his eyes as he starts to realize that he can’t get away, and that Steve’s not going to stop until he’s dominated him into pissing himself. Just the thought of that sends Bucky’s belly fluttering. “Unh, noo,” he moans, jerking miserably. “No, no, lemme go. You can’t make me, you can’t …”

“Shhh. Yes I can, Honey. That’s the whole point. You have to learn to trust your Alpha.”

“You’re not, nngh, you’re not my Alpha,” he pants, squeezing his eyes shut as his bladder spasms hard. He hears Steve tut pityingly at him.

“Just relax. It’s gonna feel much better once you let go, okay? Come on now, Buck. Let me take care of you. You can do it.” 

“Noo,” he whines, breathing harshly through his nose and looking down between his legs in a panic. His knees clench together as he tries so hard to hold it in, because with only a few words from Steve this has somehow become about so much more than taking a piss, and he can’t let go, he can’t …

But he has to go worse than ever, and Steve isn’t stopping! 

He keeps rumbling low in his chest, telling Bucky to give in, to let go, to be good, and that: “you’re making this so much harder than it has to be, Sweetheart.”

It was already headed for disaster, but Bucky knows he’s done for, once the alpha slides his hand over his belly and starts applying steady pressure. “Oh!” He gasps as he feels his body give out for a split second, a tiny spurt of urine escaping despite all his efforts. He clenches down hard, straining, trying not to, but Steve tuts and rubs his belly harder, not letting him escape it.

“Come on, Gorgeous,” he encourages, humming in satisfaction when the endearment clearly makes Bucky piss a little again. “That’s it. Good. Good.” He chuckles softly, rubbing circles below Bucky’s belly button that make him want to explode. “You like being told you’re pretty, Buck?”

“Nnngh …” 

“Shh. Come on now. You’re so close, aren'tcha? You just gotta let go, pretty baby. It’s so easy.”

“Nonono.” Bucky sobs and shakes his head, eyes clamping shut and knees squeezing tightly together. It hurts, it hurts! And Steve’s hands and his voice … they feel so … they make him wanna …

“You can do it, Bucky. I promise it’ll be okay. I’ve got you.” Steve presses his whole palm in hard against Bucky’s stomach, and Bucky yelps as his bladder spasms and finally gives way.

“Ah!” He loses control—completely. And once it starts there’s nothing he can do, his body locking down on it, desperate for the release. It’s the literal floodgates opening, and he can’t stop it, can’t even try to stop. All he can do is moan as it bowls over him. “Ohh!” 

Steve’s hand slips down from his belly to press his cock down, holding it in place for him as Bucky pisses himself uncontrollably, gasping and mewling. “Shhh,” Steve soothes. “Good. Good girl.”

Steve’s words don’t hit quite as hard when Bucky’s this lost to the physical sensations of pissing himself. At first it’s almost painful in its intensity, the piss coming out hard and fast and his bladder cramping anyway because it’s still not fast enough. It takes a few seconds before that feeling wanes and the pleasure of it really hits him. Bucky sobs and goes limp from the sheer relief of not having to hold it anymore, of finally being able to stop fighting. 

The stream coming out of him slows gradually, down to a trickle, and then to nothing, his body emptied of everything it has to give. Steve lets go of his cock and Bucky whimpers, instantly wanting that warm touch back between his legs, instantly wanting to hide. He falls forward and tries to hide his face against Steve’s shoulder as the alpha chuckles and comforts him. “You see? That’s all you had to do. Felt good, didn’t it?”

Bucky groans and shakes his head weakly. “No.”

Steve just chuckles and rubs his back. “You’re fine. Here, sit back. Let’s get you sorted.” 

Bucky watches, wrung-out and flustered as Steve takes hold of his limp penis again, shakes it for him, then starts gently maneuvering his underwear back up his legs. “I can do it,” Bucky grunts, but he’s weak from what just happened and Steve is easily able to bat his hands away and do it for him. 

“Hush,” he chides. “Let me take care of it. I know that was hard for you.” 

Bucky sits there and watches the alpha fix his clothes, lets him dab a piece of toilet paper over his tear-stained cheeks, then stands up when he’s directed. 

Steve smoothes his uniform back out. “All right. Feel better?” he asks kindly, not waiting for Bucky to give a real answer before he’s steering him out to the sinks to wash his hands. 

Bucky uses soap under Steve’s direction, though he doesn’t really see why it’s necessary; he’s not the one who touched his dick. “... That was really dumb,” he mumbles to Steve, as the alpha guides him down the hallway towards his classroom.

“No, it wasn’t.” Steve gives him a fond scruff that feels better than it has any right to, given what just transpired between them. “You’re learning,” he says. “That takes time.”

“Learning what?” 

Steve smiles gently at him and pats his shoulder. “How to trust someone else to take care of you.”

This story is an ongoing commission for an amazing supporter who wishes to remain anonymous. If you have a story that you'd like to see custom written, send me a message on Tumblr or reach out on my Kofi.

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This has been a fill for:

Event: @ultimatechrisbingo

Card: sarahowritesostucky

Square G4: Enemies w/ sexual tension

Event: @sebastianstanbingo

Card: sarahowritesostucky

Square B2: Voyeurism

Event: @anyfandomdarkbingo

Card: sarahyellow/sarah-writes-stucky

Square B2: Pushing Limits

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

eleven weeks down, four to go… i am Really Feeling It ngl… but we are in fact in the home stretch and i will in fact make it through and then i will take twelve days allll the way off and it will rule. december historically has involved a pretty rapid winnowing of my schedule but this year i have a bunch of lil perfectionists who have pushed their test dates to right before winter break, including one who is switching to twice a week for this month -__- also not sure what’s going to be happening with my two high schoolers, one of whom will nearly definitely be retesting and the other of whom may or may not be…. but on the bright side the kid who truly nailed it is in fact no longer retaking (or pooooossibly retaking with minimal additional prep) because of other advice they’ve received. lol. (the mom asked me about my experience with retakes for kids in his position and i was like “tbh i’ve literally never had a kid do this well and choose to retake” and she thanked me for my “unimpeachable integrity” which was very sweet lol.)

this week i came in at just under 37 hours, which was more than i planned largely because today i was between locations for a while and just chilled and hung out with a practice test. i’m not sure how i feel about 35 hours as a more long term goal (it feels like it shouldn’t be an amount that makes it feel hard to do anything else, but that is how i felt this week…), which is a thing i’m contemplating because of various goals i have relating to continuing to digitize everything and making more short drill sets because i have a pathology about feeling like if i can imagine that something would be helpful to students i feel bad not doing it, but i feel like it feels doable for these four weeks where i don’t have a ton of mental energy anyway, and where also i’m now close enough to the end that i can actually wrap my brain around, like, ok, 3 more upper level tests, 3 more lower level, 3.5 more ACTs, such and such number of workbook pages/chapters…. etc. but i’m gonna try again not to stress out about it in general but especially this week because (1) i don’t have big thanksgiving plans but i do have family plans and i do want to at least spend the day relaxing and (2) i do in fact have another cold i am hoping to rest off in the next day or so. the last one retreated to just some post nasal drip very quickly!!!

i got four workouts in this week (+ my Steps) largely because i was so sore i needed an extra rest day and after actually SLEEPING OKAY last night i woke up the day after a pretty tough full body workout with minimal soreness! further data points re cottage cheese snooze helper. very upset that i likely need to wait on gathering more data because i am prooobably not going to be up to HIIT day tomorrow (although thus far this cold, like its predecessor, is Quite Mild, knock wood…). i am downing zinc and emergen-c as permitted and in accordance with my cold rituals which i think are scientifically valid because even if the concoctions are fake science the placebo effect is very well attested to in the literature. (do you know about zinc in the early stages of a cold to make it less bad? i got this tip from a first grade teacher i associate taught for and i swear it works. if you know science explaining it doesn’t please do NOT tell me and let my immune system continue reaping the benefits of my delusion this is the one thing on which i do NOT wish to be fact checked 🙏🏼)

today i woke up, did work, tutored, did more work chilling in a salad place, got dinner at a french restaurant with v. good salmon (i say like i know anything about fine dining beyond “i like salmon”), agreed to a reschedule of the sunday night zoom session, & watched the first half of gladiator because i’ve seen approximately 700 people on the internet this week say something to the effect of “gladiator ii really makes you appreciate russell crowe” (he is so far great as promised playing a guy literally named Best Guy). one month left! technically less! i will in fact have a day off this week although i will also need to spend some of it working a bit! onwards! (to bed)

[alisdump]

ok now let me do a quick and >personal< review since we reached this point which was crucial for me

differently for everyone i had such a negative reaction per knowing we had gained a remake for gmm2024 but my stand is because i truly disliked the original version back then. like it was that serious for me at that time

i didn’t like the execution of idas character at all but kept pushing (mind you i was watching it weekly like everyone else, cm had just finished airing and i had hope for what japan was giving) then that teacher plot came up and it left me so disgusted, i literally had to drop because it made me angry, year was 2021 things were changing a lot everywhere else, so getting a plot like that was very much a regress but everyone was so ok with everything (and still is somehow ????) i didn’t like how every little thing ida did was a major reason for aoki to drop him and discard everything they had been building (manga and series) is like they don’t even try and the get together wasn’t even believable anymore, i eventually came back when last ep dropped just to see the outcome, left even more displeased, i have such a hard time believing they liked each other (in series) or at least aoki truly liked ida (in manga) at all in the end

so that’s where i was coming from, took my time (one hour that day hehe) and told myself to trust them because Every Time gemini and fourth makes me bite my tongue (not different this time i’m so happy) and i love the way gemini portraits kongthap, he took good look in the original material and said Well not for me, and did his own way, kongthap truly feels so fresh and real, he’s just your average quiet nerd boy that knows very little about life, is easy to see him fall in love, and those things felt more heartwarming, atom’s way for falling in love is so real and quite pure too, they’re confused about a lot but never about each other, love they have more time to talk and open their hearts to each other, they’ve so much more understanding of what it means, this very little thing they insert themselves into, a daring step, but so beautiful nevertheless, kongthap never belittling atom or making fun of his attraction for him, understanding his quirks and finding it cute the way he express himself, atom seeing the serious side of kongthap that he says that everyone finds it as a flaw and then atom is here embracing it fully, the very thing that makes him enchanted for him in the first place, they love in different ways but on the same frequency! no one is left behind, everyone should have a place to love.

[kongthap’s ‘isn’t what we are facing right now already a problem?’ fills with so much joy!! he’s my little boy who wants to solve things, find a common ground so they can have a healthy relationship!! he failed once in letting atom slip away, but now he knows, they both know!! “i will discuss things with you before i do anything” i was about to get the fireworks and lit them myself]

if you truly take a minute to the minutiae of it, on kongthapatom’s reality they’re very much alone, atom didn’t have to fight his affection for kongthap growing inside him but acknowledged them very early and pursued it, but there’s no one else like him there, no one he can look up to, he had mudmee of course, and after much internal fighting, half, but they can only do this much about this path he’s walking now. it looks like his fears is his alone but he fears so much more about kongthap, he’s desperately trying to shield him (like kongthap did for him in episode 2) he doesn’t want people to think bad about thap, that’s why things inside the school are harder for him, he would take the blame, says he’s the one at fault, that he’s the one who tarnished kongthap’s pristine image, we have seen it twice, with mudmee, with kongthap, he would choose his loved one happiness before his own in a heartbeat always

striping a homophobic teacher plot that would only make everything more violent for atom and instead giving him (and us) intergenerational queer couples!! everything that atom needed, to see he’s not alone! he’s not the odd one, somebody to look up to, the fact that one is his teacher, that he valued so much, the fact his partner is the one that makes atom find his career path is so important to me (and to him) like this little chance is so much bigger i’m so happy for this adaptation choices, always so on point!!

[princesslachimolala]

The 8th Member of Bangtan💜

•••

Chapter 5 - The Argument 📱👀🗣

Synopsis: you (yn 🦊) are the 8th member of bangtan and get to work on your music and side projects for army with the boys with some bumps along the way

Pairings: platonic! ot7 x gn! reader, brief! TWICE members x reader

Warnings: angst, arguments, conversations about self doubt and anxiety

A/n: continuation from chapter 4 (I recommend to read that first so it makes more sense) there’s more angst here I’m sorry! but bangtan is a family and families fight sometimes🫣 also reader is gender neutral so read the honorific’s as they apply to you

•••

When the boys got in the night after their post-dance practice dinner they made quite the rabble.

It was 11pm so you knew they must’ve gone somewhere afterwards… maybe they treated the staff to a drink.

Your suspicions were confirmed when there was slow knock at your door and a man entering it before you could say anything.

“Yn-ie!” Yoongi proclaimed.

The closer he came the better you could smell the alcohol off of him.

“Have a nice time?” you asked with a small voice.

“Ah it was amazing, the food was delicious, the drinks were… well…” he laughed off his sentence.

“That’s good Yoongi” was all you said, not looking up from playing your Nintendo switch.

“We missed you, you should’ve came” you looked up at him to find the sincerity behind is eyes and found some.

“Ah maybe next time” you gave a small smile.

“Just because today didn’t go that well sweetheart, doesn’t mean we can’t work at it more as a team okay?” he patted you on the knee in an attempt to be reassuring.

“Thanks oppa/hyung”

With your short replies, even his alcohol clouded brain took the cue to leave.

Then, as you were just resuming rearranging your animal crossing island, in came Hoseok.

“Yn-ie, we should chat before we call it a night” he stated, not really meeting your eyes.

“Yes Hobah?”

“I’m sorry for being so intense today, it’s just that-“ he paused thinking.

“Just that?” you pressed him.

“Hobi hyung! Did you tell yn noona/hyung what Hwa-young noona got us?” Jungkook popped his head into the room, startling the quiet.

“Hwa-young noona? Since when did you get so close in one night?” you couldn’t help but question.

“Hobi hyung knows her from Gwangju. Plus she’s nice, she bought us dinner and we drank with her and the other assistants”

So that’s why her and Hobi looked so comfortable together at dance practice, you thought.

Jungkook looked buzzed from the alcohol but didn’t seem to look guilty at all. How could he be comforting you earlier today and now be so close with a woman they, besides Hobi, all just met?

“And… she gave each of us one of these” he said presenting his wrist, now adorned with a skinny silver bracelet.

You looked down at Jungkook’s wrist then over to Hobi’s, adorned with a matching bracelet. You could feel the tears prick at your eyes, and the boys clearly noticed.

“Don’t worry, noona/hyung, she got you one as well… she just never got the chance to give you it because-“

“Because she told me not to come out with you all” you quietly seethed but loud enough that they both heard you.

“You said you weren’t feeling well yn” Hobi stated, confused.

“Yeah well, I lied” your voice was gradually raising.

Jungkook looked taken aback, a mix of guilt and annoyance.

“Why?”

“Because-“ you choked, it was the last thing you wanted to do - come off as dramatic, cause rifts between the members and the staff, be rude to an elder.

“Noona/hyung?” Jungkook questioned meekly.

“I just overheard her saying some stuff about me to the other staff. They were laughing about me and my dancing. They said I was stressing you out and slowing the team down and then I realised they were right” you gave a sob.

“I don’t think Hwa-young noona would laugh at you yn-ie” Hobi crossed his arms.

“So you don’t believe me?”

“I know noona and she wouldn’t do that. She was my old dance teachers assistant and she’s very well respected and trusted. Otherwise BangPD-nim wouldn’t have hired her” he was defensive now.

“But you know me too, oppa/hyung… I wouldn’t lie or make a big deal out of nothing”

Now your stern, raised voices had attracted the ears of the others. You looked and saw them all gathered at your door, Jungkook now looking spooked standing behind Namjoon.

“She knows all about dance yn, I’m sure if she said anything it would be to help you out. Besides… once I found out it was her joining the team as an assistant, I was going to get her transferred to our choreo team”

“Gossiping to staff members about how I shouldn’t even be part of danceline isn’t helpful Hoseok! And if you do that she’ll never stop berating and belittling me!”

His jaw tightened at your shout and formal use of his name.

No one had a comforting word to say to try and diffuse the argument. Even Jin who usually always jumped to your rescue was standing with his mouth popped open, like he was trying to find a word but couldn’t.

“She made me question myself, should I even be an idol at all if I can’t do what I’m supposed to do without being laughed at….” you tried keeping your voice even and tears held in your eyes.

“Yn-ie…” Jimin came forward and reached for your arm but you pulled back, needing space.

“I can’t sleep here tonight. I’m going to see my friends”

•••

“And your members just let you walk out the dorm like that?” Dahyun asked with wide eyes.

You were sat in your friends dorm, piled with blankets on the sofa and surrounded by comfort snacks and drinks. The TWICE girls were always hospitable no matter when you arrived, expected or not.

You nodded in response to Dahyun’s question.

“You don’t think I’m overreacting?” you asked.

“I think I’d cry too if a staff laughed at my dancing” Tzuyu said, knees pulled to her chest.

Everyone else hummed in agreement.

“Reminds me of that time we had that rude staff member the company hired for the Cheer Up comeback” Nayeon shivered, prompting a collective shiver from the members.

“She was fired after the comeback was over but my god she made that time hellish” Jihyo commented popping pieces of popcorn into her mouth.

“Hobi said he was thinking about making her part of the choreo team, probably even to keep her on after the Dynamite comeback is over” you said with a pout.

“But then she’d be permanent!” Dahyun said with another shock.

“I know” your pout deepened.

“Ah yn-ie, don’t worry too much okay? Besides why not you just become a member of TWICE, I’m sure ONCE’s would love you” Sana suggested with a smile.

You laughed at that, as if you could just transfer from one hit kpop group to the other with no problem.

“Okay let’s settle down and watch the rest of this kdrama before bed and help yn take their mind of things”

So that’s what you did for the rest of night. Except that half of the girls didn’t last long before falling asleep, and the other half got so frustrated that when the protagonists of the kdrama refused their feelings for each other for the 7th time, they had to call it a night.

Dahyun and Sana gathered all the pillows and blankets on their dorms L-shaped sofa for you to sleep over in a make shift bed.

They said goodnight and you proceeded with your nightly scroll. But what you had forgot during your chat with the girls was that you’d turned your notifications off for the night. It was now 3am. Your stomach did a guilty flip once you saw your Home Screen:

2:46am: 50 unread messages

2:14am: Missed call from Minie moo💛

1:58am: 2 missed calls from SunshineHope☀️

1:32am: Missed call from Joonie🪴

1:11am: Missed call from TaeTae🎷

12:47am: Missed call from Yoongles🎶

12:28am: Missed call from Jinnie🎣

12:12am: Missed call from BunKook💪🏽

Bangtan💜:

🐥: let us know when you get there safe please🙏🏻

🐨: cmon dongsaengie don’t make us worry

🐰: what if they’re not okay hyungs?😪

🐱: don’t worry guys they’re probably just busy with their friends

Yoongles🎶:

🐱: okay so I’m going insane with you not replying…

🐱: cmon yn-ie just say the car didn’t upturn on your way over

🐱: what’s the address???

🐱: ugh fine I know you want to be left alone right now…

BunKook💪🏽:

🐰: NOONA/HYUNG!!!!!

🐰: please tell us you got there okay!!!!

🐰: I’m going to stay awake till you do!!!!

Minie Moo💛:

🐥: don’t hate us dongsaengie, we’re sorry you’ve been hurting all day and we didn’t notice

🐥: come home to the dorm🥺

🐥: kook fell asleep on the couch with his phone in his hand, we’re waiting for you🫶🏻

TaeTae🎷:

🐻: 😵‍���

🐻: ^^ me because your not replying

🐻: 🥴< that’s Jimin’s face right now

🐻: 🤒< literally Jin hyung

🐻: 🙃< Joon hyung

🐻: 😪< Yoongi hyung

🐻: 😴< that’s Jungkook but only because he’s exhausted from being sad

🐻: Hobi hyung went into his room

Joonie🪴:

🐨: I know your mad at us dongsaengie, we just want to know you’re safe

🐨: I’m cycling to the dorm

🐨: okay so Jin hyungs banned me from cycling in the dark and also because I’ve drank alcohol but just know I would have

Jinnie🎣:

🐹: reply to your oppa/hyung, this is a command

🐹: okay fine that was harsh but your not replying to anyone baby petal I’m freaking out

🐹: Yoongi and Joon are pacing and it’s driving me nuts so if you could reply that would be super

🐹: if you reply now I’ll let you be the first member to hear my solo debut song

🐹: and I’ll buy all your meals for a month

🐹: these offers expire in 10 mins so reply to us baby petal

SunshineHope☀️:

🐿: yn-ie I don’t know what to say

🐿: I didn’t mean to get so annoyed

🐿: I can’t do this over text I have to phone you

🐿: okay… I’m leaving a voicemail please listen petal

2:01am: 1 new voicemail from SunshineHope☀️

Before replying to the other guys and putting them out of their misery, you decided to listen to Hobi’s voicemail:

“Yn-ie, I’m sorry for how I acted… for not believing you… members have to stick together, I know that. I don’t know what came over me? Seeing Hwa-young just made me nostalgic for being a dance student. I never believed she would act so unprofessionally towards one of my members like that. If anyone knows what it’s like to be criticised it should be me… remember when Jungkookie cried because i wanted to leave bangtan? I was so sure they would be fine without me, that my skills weren’t anything special… but I was wrong and I know how your feel about your abilities right now is wrong too. Bangtan needs our little baby petal. Please come home tomorrow, we have dance practise at 12pm but I’ll make sure it’s a closed session. Just the members dongsaengie, okay? And we can all talk and work it out then… goodnight yn-ie… I’m sorry”

You could feel your eyes welling up. With him being cold towards you all day, your really had missed your sunshine.

Bangtan💜:

🦊: I’m sorry guys! I turned my phone notifications off, I’m okay, I’m just going to sleep now, I got all of your messages and I’ll be at practise tomorrow at 12. Goodnight

🐹: ah baby petal!! Now we can sleep soundly

🐿: see you tomorrow yn-ie🙏🏻

•••

As promised, you arrived at hybe headquarters. Jungkook had posted in the group chat what dance studio it was they were in, and just as Hobi had said, it was devoid of any staff members. Just the 7 of them were waiting around - stretching, talking, drinking their coffee and scrolling on their phones.

There was a bit of awkward silence as you entered the door and placed you bag on the floor with a thud, grabbing their attention.

Then they all rushed to you at once.

“I’m sorry noona/hyung!”

“Please don’t leave us again dongsaengie!”

“We’re so glad you came!”

You had some tears in your eyes but couldn’t help but giggle at their confessions and crowding. Even some of the boys had wet eyes.

“It’s not funny noona/hyung” Jungkook sniffled, “I thought you weren’t gonna come back”

“Of course I was coming back kook, I just needed some space” you explained, trying to reassure your dongsaeng.

“But we don’t want space!” he replied, looking like an frustrated rabbit.

“We’re glad you came back, yn-ie, we’ll never let anyone come between the members again okay?”

“I’ll try to be polite to Hwa-young-ssi but if she starts laughing at me again…”

“Don’t worry yn-ie, your oppas/hyungs will handle it” Jin said assuredly.

“And me!” Jungkook said puffing his chest out, causing giggles in you and the other members.

“I’m being serious! No one hurts my noona/hyungs and gets away with it!”

“You’ll be polite to her too kook-ah… we all will… but we’re onto her, so if she starts anything again…” namjoon instructed.

“I’ll be the first one to call her out” Hobi said firmly pulling you into his embrace.

Rehearsals went smoother with Hobi taking it easy on the critiques and you all going in hard with the effort. You knew then it would be all just fine… it was nice to have your sunshine back and a privilege to have such protective members. You really were bangtan for life, you thought.

•••

A/n: I hope that was a satisfying resolution to yn and Hobi’s argument… we are Hobi lovers in this house after all☀️ however I feel like Hwa-young may pop up in future fics? so watch out for her again! Thank you for reading and liking!