#this is not the game we waited ten years for nor the game we deserved!!! but i still had fun!!!

[wetcatspellcaster]

Veilguard Thoughts

(my sort-of review, more of a ramble, below the cut in case of spoilers)

I had particularly low expectations for this game, as it felt to me like it was rushed out to try and hit the BG3 crowd and get them to pay £70 at the point where their hyperfixation was failing them. It felt like a very commercially-motivated decision, and I tried to modify my expectations accordingly.

I then started playing... and had to modify my expectations again.

But with two lowering of expectations completed... I genuinely enjoyed this game! I had fun! Sort of! if I squint!!

Thoughts!

I am not a competent gamer, so I like combat that feels fun and engaging without being challenging or a chore (cough, BG3 Act 3, cough), but without being lazy either. I played as a mage in Veilguard and I felt like this hit a sweet spot - moments where I was stressed kind-of invested, no moments when I was bored. The graphics for mage (for spellblade particularly) were awesome and badass, and I loved to new mode of engaging with the mage class in orb and dagger.

I understand the frustration with a lot of lore being retconned, ignored, or wilfully erased or moved away from. Some parts I understood: I do think Veilguard tries to make a move away from grimdark, not out of disloyalty to the franchise and it's roots, but bc grimdark is a very different prospect now than when Origins released. it's a genre that gets a lot more criticism and bad press, and that some people feel genuinely uncomfortable perpetuating as a results. While Origins is my favourite dragon age game, there's a lot of insane things you need to just let slide to enjoy it - like the fact that multiple origins begin with some kind of rape and sexual assault if you're playing as a woman. I don't think retconning that stuff is anything other than being politically savvy, and a little more sensitive to how fantasy has changed.

(I also think this is why they've moved away from the chantry conflict to be honest. Like the optics of Christian religions in fantasy has also changed, and let's be honest, Dragon Age had already fucked THAT, multiple times.)

I did however, like everyone, find it a bit disheartening to see how little Keep decisions mattered. Why is there no Keiran with Morrigan? why can't Mythal move to an inquisitor who drank the Well of Sorrows instead? why is my Inquisitor defending Solas when she ended the game hating him? Why is Hawke being in the Fade meaningless? I know this is just echoing what people have already said, but it was sad to see the 'conclusion' to the franchise (that probably isn't the end, let's be honest, not now that people paid £70 for an underwritten game) was even less satisfying in terms of choice and agency than ME3

This game deliberately skewed itself to read as a 'better DA2', than a 'worse, rushed inquistion'. IDK, it just makes me feel a bit grossed out, and manipulated. I mean, we know DA2 can be made in crunch, lads!!!!! :)))

Criticisms!

EVERYTHING is underwritten. The game is woefully short. If I can complete all the sidequests in a game, then something is wrong. The romances, the character arcs, the main quest, the dialogues. Everything was sparse, with the bare bones of a plot, that (in the case of companions quests) was rarely seen through to a full and satisfying conclusion. And I *know* that's not the writers fault, necessarily, but that doesn't mean it couldn't be done better.

There's so much potential, but I found that most of the companions could be boiled down to one or two traits, and while I can see people headcanoning reasons for this in real time, it's just... underwriting, or bad writing. Extremely telling to me that both Emmrich and Davrin were my favourite companions... because they had their own companions. That meant that they had multiple story hooks - their professions, their relationships, and then their little guys. They got three things, when most people only got two.

This was particularly egrerious for me with Taash, because they started out amazing, and I ended up being extremely disappointed as I watched both them and their mother being reduced down to flat one-dimension caricatures and a tired queer narrative of 'my parents hate me'. Only, this time, it's 'my immigrant parents hate me'. when you couple the reductive approach to Taash with bioware's inability to write the Qunari well or without falling into Orientalism??? they're suddenly an evil repressive queer phobic religion after being supportive of trans characters in inquisition???? you're telling me Shathann, a woman who was forced into a more feminine role by circumstance but considered herself more genderless/masculine as a scholar, wouldn't be on board with non-binary identity? just galling tbh.

The romances are underwritten. And they are badly written, to me. Luckily I know we'll have fic, but in Inquisition, each romance was 90 minutes worth of content. In Veilguard, Lucanis's romance is the longest... at 18 minutes. It just seems stupid and strange to me - if this game is chasing on BG3's coat-tails, why don't they know everyone is fucking horny?

While I liked the decision to give companions more banter together and flesh out their interpersonal relationships, I felt that the balance was off... probably bc it's cheaper to have two actors share a piece of scripted dialogue, than voice a decision tree. It meant that to me Rook often felt like a bystander in their own story, or excluded from their own found family. HR Manager-core, as it were.

General uselessness of the Lords of Fortune coupled with the Orientalism of the Lords of Fortune.... big sad.

I think the choice between Lace and Davrin is highly!!!! suspect!! do you go with fantasy racism (kill off the only dwarf, thus meaning all your dwarf companions are dead in the game, including the one who represented to future for her people) or the real racism (kill off the black man). I really wish this decision was more reactive, and perhaps based in faction strength or character bond, not just a pre-set choice.

I'll never care about solas, the way trick weekes wants me to care about solas. pretty dumb decision, to make a whole game contingent on this fact.

The ending and epilogue screens were underwhelming, and left the game feeling incomplete to me.

Joys!

To end on a more positive note...

everyone is hot. I honestly think everyone is hot. No other dragon age game had a cast of characters whom i all found attractive. This is unheard of. This is why I know all the fic will be fucking stellar.

And you know who else is hot? Rook. Genuinely one of my favourite DA protagonists! Maybe bc of the faction thing, or just the chemistry of the VA I chose. I just felt like she was pretty fucking hot tbh, and that more people in-game should be taking notice of it. Everyone should stop having conversations with each other and start desiring Rook carnally.

Weisshaupt was genuinely an amazing sequence and questline. In fact, I loved that this game featured Grey Wardens more heavily, and I loved all the lore about Wardens that was introduced.

Assan!! <3 Manfred!!! <3

Bellara and Neve kissing with tongue!!! No, I will not elaborate!!!

(I think that Bellara and Neve were two characters who did have strong stories, and that they should kiss about it.)

Elgarnan and Ghilanain.... never before has a dragon age game known what it's like to have a charismatic villain. This time, we got two. Ghilanain was my favourite, bc I'm fucking gay, but even interactions with Elgarnan and his boss battle felt engaging. I honestly don't think a dragon age game has ever had a good villain before, and these guys were both fucking cool.

[robertreich]

Busting the “Paid What You’re Worth” Myth 

You’ve probably heard that everyone is “paid what they’re worth.” Don’t buy it.

According to this mythology, workers at the bottom are “unskilled” and don’t deserve more than what they currently earn.

Minimum wage workers at McDonald’s are paid what they are worth in the so-called “free market.” If they were worth more, they’d earn more.

By the same logic, the CEO of McDonald’s is worth his multi-million dollar compensation package.

The notion that people are paid what they’re “worth” is by now so deeply ingrained in the public consciousness that many who earn very little assume it’s their own fault that they don’t earn more. That they simply lack the skills they need to be paid more.

But there’s no such thing as unskilled workers. Only underpaid workers. Their productivity — that is the value of what they produce — has been growing for decades. The problem is that their wages haven’t kept pace with their productivity.

The “paid what you’re worth” mythology also lures the unsuspecting into thinking nothing can be done to change what people are paid. It’s simply the way the market works.

Meanwhile, according to this same view, CEOs who rake in tens of millions and Wall Street traders who rake in hundreds of millions, are simply being paid what they’re "worth” because that’s what the market has dictated.

Rubbish. The “paid what you’re worth” fairytale ignores power and disregards policies that have made inequality skyrocket. Like the demise of antitrust enforcement, which has given big corporations the power to set prices, make record profits, and reward their CEOs unprecedented compensation. This fairytale ignores the attacks on labor unions that have reduced union membership from over a third of all private-sector workers in the 1950s to just 6 percent today. All of this resulting in a massive shift in power and wealth from workers to owners.

Those at the top justify their staggering wealth, and they’re “worth,” three ways:

The first is trickle-down economics. They claim that their wealth trickles down to everyone else as they invest it and create jobs. Just wait for it… But as we know, wealth at the top has soared for decades and nothing has trickled down.

The second is the “free market.” They talk about market forces beyond their control. But remember, markets are created by rules. These rules don’t exist in nature; they are human creations. The political power of the wealthy has let them change the rules for their own benefit — busting unions, monopolizing industries, and reaping big tax cuts.

The third is the idea that they’re superior human beings. Sure, they may be talented but this doesn’t justify the staggering amount of wealth they are now taking home. Nor does it justify the amount of wealth they will pass down to heirs. The biggest intergenerational transfer of wealth in history will occur over the next 25 years as the richest 1.5% of Americans hand down roughly some $36 trillion dollars to their children and grandchildren. That doesn’t make those heirs superior. It makes them lucky.

The reality is there’s no justification for today’s extraordinary concentration of wealth at the very top. Or for how little people are paid at the bottom.

The “paid what you’re worth” myth has proven to be a cruelly effective way to put the blame on workers for not getting ahead — while giving the rich and powerful cover to rig the game for their own benefit.

It is distorting our politics, rigging our markets, and granting unprecedented power to a handful of people while millions of Americans struggle to get by.

Don’t fall for it.

[hargrove-mayfields]

💗Happy Valentine's Day!!💗

As voted by my followers, here’s my fic to celebrate!

~~

Stick to the plan.

Everything will be fine. Everything will be just fine and dandy. Just as long as he doesn’t deviate from the plan.

Except Steve can’t find the present box. At least he still has a good half hour before Billy gets here, he just has to remember where he put it. Or find it.

As of the few times he’d already checked, it wasn’t in the bedside table, under the coffee table, in any of his jacket pockets, or in the entertainment center. Nor was it left on the floor anywhere, put through the wash, or even still in the shopping bag accidentally thrown in the garbage. He’d checked absolutely everywhere.

Everywhere! And now there’s only twenty-eight minutes until Billy’s going to arrive and Steve is getting very close to a full panic.

He’ll try the checklist one more time, really quickly. Just to be sure. It’s not in any of the bedrooms, the living space, any of the bathrooms, the kitchen, the salon, or the linen closet. The small red box with Billy’s gift inside of it is missing.

No denying it now; this is their first official, on script Valentine’s Day and Steve is going to ruin it all. Now that there’s less than ten minutes until Billy’s going to get here, he’s got to think of a backup plan. Billy’s not picky, maybe he’d accept free hug coupons or something else super tacky.

No. Nope. Absolutely not.

Billy’s been with Steve through some pretty tough shit, and somehow they’ve been in love through it all. Three years of monster fights, shitty abusers, hospital trips. That kind of dedication deserves a better way to honor it than the kind of holiday gift kindergarteners make in their classrooms.

And the gift he’d bought Billy would’ve done exactly that if he hadn’t lost it! Steve runs his fingers nervously through his hair so many times the spray has started to break down and lose its style completely.

He’s about to run back upstairs and attempt to salvage it when he hears the pounding of Billy’s speakers get closer from the street to his driveway. Zero minutes left. Too late now.

Steve spins around in place to make sure he hadn’t left the house too much of a wreck, fluffs his hair up with a quick shake of his head, and opens the door just in time to see Billy step up to his stoop.

The smile he wears only falters slightly when he sees a large gift bag in Billy’s hand.

Oh he better think of something, and fast.

“Just couldn’t wait for me to knock, could ya?” Billy quips, lighting up as he comes face to face with Steve.

This is their third February together, but their first real Valentine’s Day. ‘85 was too risky, and ‘86 impossible to celebrate with all the grief going on in their lives. 1987 is going to be their year of normalcy, starting a month ago when they celebrated the arrival of the New Year together, and carrying on today with their celebrations of Saint Valentine and the day love was invented. Or.. whatever Valentines is about.

See, Steve’s still not quite the textbook scholar, but he knows a hell of a lot about love. And he knows he loves that vibrant magic he can see in Billy’s eyes when their hearts meet. He’ll do anything to see that look all day today, or really for the rest of their lives.

Steve doesn’t let his excitement, or the flurry of warmth in his heart, distract him from playing along with Billy’s faux-sarcasm, “Please. We both know you don’t listen to your music that loud anymore. You did that to get my attention.”

It took some time to get used to one another’s cues, and all the ins and outs of playing the Billy Hargrove game. Steve is also still good at memorizing sports charts, and a conversation with Billy isn’t too far off from one.

The end goal is just a loud, genuine laugh from the love of his life instead.

Billy gives him that satisfaction by cracking into a small bout of warm laughter, before he answers, “You got me there.”

Something else, it took a while for Billy to feel comfortable here at Steve’s house. Fair enough, given the sheer contrast between the trailer he shares with Mayfields, or even the smaller house they lived in before that, and the size of the Harrington mansion, but it was still a pretty massive hurtle towards getting their sync where it is today.

Today when Billy just gladly barges in and leans against Steve’s arms for extra support while he kicks off his shoes. He takes a second to look around, his smile growing even wider at all the festive details. Red and pink streamers above the door and in the archways. Heart-shaped tinsel around the bannister. Jelly stickers in the shapes of Cupid on the windows.

It’s all a little.. much, admittedly.

“Looks nice in here.” Billy seems to like it though, but, just in case he had missed some sarcasm there, Steve goes with it.

He plays it off, knowing full well that Billy can see through his act, “Please. It looks like the holiday aisle at a dollar store threw up in here.”

And Billy does too. He barely even acknowledges Steve’s denial and keeps staring in awe at the patchwork heart wreath on the front door, “All we have at my place is a card Max made for me and Sue when she was like, 7.”

Billy sounds so at ease talking about his family now. Just the tone of his voice makes Steve so proud. He almost forgets that he’s supposed to be cheeky, “Just invite my mom over and she’ll turn your place into a disaster too.”

“Got my own ma now, thanks.” And with that, like that sort of claim isn't groundbreaking progress for him, Billy casually steals a Hershey kiss from the candy dish, in the same movement plopping his gift bag down onto the coffee table and himself down onto the plush sofa.

Steve just watches, his turn to be the one who feels awkward in this house. Through no fault of Billy’s, Steve is back to worrying about the missing gift, and his thoughts start to spiral. He worries that Billy hates the decorations, the holiday, the house. The stupid messy house that swallowed up his perfect Valentine’s gift and ruined this special day.

“Don’t be so stiff, Stevie. Todays a day just for you and me, and these little chocolate bitches.” Billy’s relaxed, but slightly muffled by half-melted chocolate on his teeth, voice cuts through that depressing internal monologue.

Steve shakes his head to somehow physically clear away the thoughts, then blows a puff of air to move the hair that gets loose in his face. This gift thing is really making him upset and now he feels worse for making it Billy’s problem too, “Sorry, just. I was thinking…”

He takes his place next to Billy on the sofa, their combined weight pulling the white and pink heart patterned Afghan off of the back. If the way Billy drags it the rest of the way over himself and nuzzles into the warm blanket is any indication of how comfortable he feels, Steve can be at least a little relieved about the tackiness.

Billy, after he’s cozy, remembers his curiosity about Steve and his uncharacteristic lack of Steveness, “Yeah? ‘Bout what?”

“Just you and us and things.” He claims.

That certainly gets Billy’s attention. He sits up a little straighter, and bumps Steve’s knee with his as he asks, “All good things?”

“Mhm.” Steve assures him, leaning over to give him a soft kiss on his cheek, to seal the promise.

It doesn’t seem to satiate Billy’s worries completely though. He worries about a lot of things anymore, and Steve can’t blame him. He’s been through hell and some days he barely knows what’s real. Still, it doesn’t make him any less sad when Billy asks, “But you gotta have some bad thoughts about us, right?”

“No, baby. Never.” Steve answers automatically, because it’s true. All the fear and pity and doubt he’d felt before, he never wants that again. He just wants to be happy, and for as long as Billy is going to come to him with those sparkling ocean eyes, he’s going to believe in that love. And he’ll do anything to keep it, whether it’s a good idea or not.

“This isn’t exactly the most romantic date..” Billy points out as though it contrasts this, but Steve did that intentionally for Billy and his comfort. Not because of some mysterious bad thought against Billy.

Without saying that outright, because he doesn’t want to sound like he’s blaming him, Steve promises, “I told you I don’t care about that stuff. Not with you.”

Billy seems to accept it, judging from the way his face shifts away from tension, and he snuggles closer to Steve to ask, “So what’s your big plan for tonight?”

Now Steve is really glad he didn’t give in to his instincts and make some massive fancy dinner. Billy keeps fishing for the big reveal, probably fretting that Steve is going to surprise him.

He’s relieved to be able to answer, “Um, I guess I don’t really have one.”

Billy tilts his head and scrunches his nose, not buying it, “Oh, come on. Steve Harrington, king of the romantics, doesn’t have a plan this February the 14th?”

All this questioning is making Steve shy now, but he’s still sure it was the right decision to not overwhelm a recently recovered Billy. He just shrugs a little, “Not really.. I mean, this was supposed to be a casual thing, right?”

The next thing Steve knows, Billy is leaning away from him to grab the tall gift bag he brought off of the table in front of them, a noticeable shake in his hands. Steve thinks nothing of it, because he’s too curious about what’s inside, and too used to watching a more broken version of Billy.

When the bag is finally placed in Steve’s two open palms, Billy clears his throat and speaks, “Uh.. I got you this and I want you to open it.”

Steve suddenly feels a pang of nerves in his chest, remembering that he has no idea where his present for Billy is. He stalls, “What is it?”

“Like I’m gonna tell. You gotta open it.” Billy playfully, and so gently he barely feels it, shoves Steve with both hands. They both laugh softly, and then there’s no more putting it off.

Steve slowly reaches into the bag, his jaw actually dropping when he takes out its contents.

It’s three paintings on watercolor paper, all of him as the model in monochrome palettes. Steve recognizes the poses from Polaroid photos they’ve taken throughout their time together. Ones that Billy kept in his pocket or wallet for good luck.

Steve tears up right away realizing that Billy still carries them with him, a habit he thought went away during the awful summer of ‘85.

“Almost got my ass busted over those by my nosy ass PT, so you better be grateful.” Billy explains jokingly, studying Steve’s reaction carefully. His actual reaction dissolves into something even more loving and emotional, realizing that Billy went through the effort of making these during his physical therapy sessions.

He’s graduated the program since, but the idea of his partner, when he could barely move his fingers, learning to hold a paintbrush again and sit upright to make this for Steve. It’s beautiful. Almost as fascinating as the quality of the paintings themselves.

“Billy, these are amazing..” Steve proclaims breathlessly, so touched he struggles to gather his words, “I’m going to frame them.”

Billy blushes, flattered by the genuine reaction, but he’s got to play it cool, because this is Billy Hargrove, “And display ‘em above your bed?”

“Mhm! That way you can watch over me, my protector.” Steve gently puts the paintings back down, so he can kiss Billy on the lips. A quick press, nothing special, but a wordless way to thank him.

When they pull away, Billy is flushed even pinker, and the lop-sided smile on his face shows he’s all flustered still. Steve isn’t expecting him to change the subject so quickly though, and it takes him by surprise when Billy, to get the attention off of himself, turns it around to ask about Steve’s gift, “Alright, alright. What’cha got, Stevie, babe?”

“It’s upstairs. Be back in a sec?” Steve lies, instantly feeling super guilty about it. Billy gave him such a nice gift and he’s supposed to just admit he lost his? No. No, no, no. Not gonna happen.

Then Billy will think he doesn’t care or know anything about him, and he’ll be heartbroken, and Steve just has to find that stupid goddamn-

“Take your time, gazelle. I got all night.” Billy yawns and stretches out casually all over the entire couch with Steve’s spot open now, smiling contentedly to himself. As much as Steve wants to stay and appreciate the view, in the way his cotton sweatshirt rides up his scarred stomach just a little, and his longer curls fan out all over the couch’s armrest. Beautiful.

But Steve has to run upstairs and freak the fuck out right now.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

Steve whisper-curses to himself, rummaging through piles of upturned shit from his search earlier. Dirty clothes, bedsheets, old shoes, all tossed aside carelessly in his frantic attempts at finding this damned gift box.

“Where are you, you stupid present?!”

Every room, top to bottom. But it’s nowhere. He’s ruined everything. Billy’s going to hate him for not getting him anything, and then he’s going to leave him, and on Valentines day of all days, and Steve’s going to spend the rest of his life all alone and-

“Steve?” Billy’s voice cuts through the cloud of angry thoughts to reach him upstairs.

It’s over. He’s got nothing, no excuse even. Steve calls back, a little out of breath and shaky, “Yeah, bubs?”

No response. Steve’s heart sinks then, his thoughts of Billy’s hatred switched out with concern for his safety. Without a second thought about some superficial gift, Steve bolts down the steps, stopping in a dead skid when Billy is right there instead of in the living room.

Billy, with a small red box in his hands. He found the gift! Steve is saved!

Until- “You could’ve just broken up with me.”

Billy tosses the box at him harshly, the precious item only caught by Steve, despite almost falling on the floor, because of the muscle weakness behind Billy’s throw. He wears a cold scowl on his face, though it’s unable to mask the tears in his eyes. Now Steve is just confused.

He reaches out to him, “Billy no.. Why.. Why would I do something like that?”

“Jesus, cut the bullshit, Steve! If I’m not good enough for you, just say it! We’ve all been thinking it already! Just open your fucking mouth and say it!” Billy rambles, from the sound of it trying to raise his voice, but failing against grief. He just sounds broken and it makes Steve feel broken.

Steve guesses what he’s talking about, because he genuinely has no clue, and he just wants to fix it, “But I love the paintings! Just because they’re homemade doesn’t mean they’re worth any less..”

A flash of something angry takes over the heartbreak in Billy’s face, as he storms back to the living room and grabs one of those very paintings. When he picks it up, it looks like he’s about to tear it in half. Steve gasps, rushing to him, but nothing happens. Defeated by something within himself, Billy drops the painting on its face instead of destroying it, and breaks down in tears.

“I’ll take the gift back if you don’t like them.. I’ll make you something special this time, I promise!” Steve pleads, assuming Billy doesn’t like the present he got because it’s too fancy, too much of a reminder of the gap between them that used to keep them separated, before their hearts reached out.

Wrong move.

“What, So you can give ‘em back to your other bitch? I’m not gonna be an accessory Steve!” Billy bites, too sad to sound mean.

“What?” Steve’s eyes get wide. Billy thinks he’s cheating now?

“What part don’t you get? I spend fucking- months on your shit, and you don’t even get me fucking anything.” Billy’s voice is hoarse and painful. He probably needs his inhaler, his medication. Steve desperately wants to take care of him in the moment, but there’s some wedge in his way. Something he can’t even grasp, let alone begin to move it.

“Could've at least tried to hide the evidence ‘stead of just shoving it in the couch cushions..”

Oh. Oh.

Billy had only found the present because Steve had lost it out of his pocket and straight into the void that is his ima’s too soft taste in furniture. But he thought he hid it there. Oh Steve has to fix this, now.

“No, no, Billy. Sweetie. Those are for you. I bought them for you.”

Billy only eyes him skeptically. The twitch of the corner of his mouth tells Steve he wants to believe him, but he’s just not there yet. Steve’s going to try to fix it as carefully as he can, collecting all the information before he tries anything, since so much ignorance had clouded their mutual understanding before.

“Is that what you thought? That I really wouldn’t get you anything?”

Billy shrugs harshly, obviously self-conscious about it now, maybe even guilty, just for feeling his feelings. Fuck everybody who ever made Billy feel like he wasn’t entitled to his own thoughts and gut feelings and emotions. It’s part of what makes getting him to accept love so hard.

“Well it wouldn’t have even crossed my mind if you weren’t acting so weird. All this “casual” shit.. Like I’m.. Like we don’t matter.” Billy grumbles, short and barely audible.

“I just didn’t want to overwhelm you. I'm kind of.. a lot, when it comes to this stuff.” Steve explains it all as carefully as he can, as much as he wants to go hug Billy, staying stock still so the other knows just how genuine he is in his respect for his boundaries, “I’ll be honest, I decorated this room, and I wrote you a love note, and I bought extra wood for the fireplace to burn all night. I even baked a heart shaped cake. It’s in the freezer. But I panicked and I thought.. I thought I’d scare you off.”

Steve pauses only to catch his breath from talking too fast , “And then I couldn’t find the present I bought, and I thought I’d ruined everything. You gave me those beautiful paintings and I totally lost my cool. I should've just explained but I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Billy looks at him, a leftover tear staining his cheek, and Steve looks at Billy. They apologize at the exact same time, “I’m sorry..”

Again, they speak at once, each hearing the other’s voice more than their own declarations. This is exactly what they needed, to talk instead of getting in their heads.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, baby.”

Steve moves first, and Billy lets him. He opens his arms to say that the hug Steve wants is okay to take. They embrace, Billy melting into the taller boy's arms, drying his tears on the brunet's soft pink sweater.

He mumbles, his voice still thick with tears, “Do you forgive me?”

Steve doesn’t even have to consider his response, automatically promising, “Of course, baby. Always.”

“But I-“ Billy tries to argue, looking up and showing off those expansive, hurting eyes.

Steve doesn’t even let him finish his worries before he’s assuring, “It’s okay. We both assumed things. Next time, let’s not do surprises.”

Billy nods, and his silver, dangling earring brushes against Steve’s collar bone. Oh yeah, the present! After all of that fretting, he’d forgotten to give Billy the present back!

“Wanna try your present on?”

Billy doesn’t even try to hide his excitement or force it to the back of his expression this time, wearing a full, glowing smile to go with his bashful giggle. He’s clearly excited, something Billy doesn’t let himself show as often, a lasting fear of his own joy from his childhood.

Now they have nothing to worry about, except Steve does worry, he worries Billy won’t like the earrings, irrationally, based on his reaction when Steve opens the box.

He gasps and then just stares. Like he doesn’t know what to do.

Billy gently takes it from him, and picks up one of the two pearl earrings inside. They’re thin golden hoops, with perfect round, blue-ish pearls delicately hanging from the bottom. The sparkle is back in his gaze, wonder aimed at the pair he’d been so fixated on when he first saw them last month at the shopping mall.

He hadn’t said he wanted them, and would never admit to it in public thanks to the scars of his past, but the look on his face is identical to the one he wore when he saw Steve again for the first time after a few months in the hospital. That’s gotta be a good sign.

Though when he speaks, he masks his excitement with doubt, “They’re too pretty for me.”

Steve won’t entertain that at all, because it’s so thoroughly untrue. In his eyes, Billy deserves the world. Nothing at all compares to him. Hell, that’s probably why Steve was so scared to mess up today.

“Oh, shush. They were made for you.”

To prove it, Steve takes one of the earrings and, after delicately moving a strand of Billy’s wild curls out of the way, puts it through his ear. It shines opalescence perfectly onto his lightly tanned, freckled skin. Steve quickly puts the other in to match, placing a hand on each of Billy’s shoulders and leaning back to see.

The sight of him like this takes Steve's breath away. “Holy shit.”

His smile of adoration must reach his ears, because Billy questions the way Steve looks at him, after looking down bashfully, but still peeking back up at Steve through his eyelashes, “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.. You’re gorgeous.” Steve can’t help himself. He kisses Billy softly, and then again, and again. Peppering Billy's face with gentle pecks, from his rosy lips to his freckled cheeks, to that cute little crinkle in his forehead when he’s flustered.

Billy eventually wiggles free from the loose hold of Steve’s arms around him to go look at himself in the entryway mirror, titling his head from side to side as he examines every last detail of his own reflection adorned with his new earrings.

He rocks on his heels, getting closer to the mirror then pulling back, one of the ways he’s started to burn off the happy energy. A stim, so Steve’s been taught. He has them too, but he never knew what they were called. The quiet, happy chuckle that accompanies the motion is one too.

Finally Steve feels like he’s done something right.

Billy turns back around and gushes, “Wanna know something cool about pearls?”

“Shoot.” Steve nods, genuinely interested though he’s only watching the gentle swing of the small jewelry with every movement of Billy’s. Beautifully enchanting.

“One, they’re fireproof. I think that’s badass. Two, none of them are the same, like snowflakes! Also badass. Three, they’re a symbol for loyalty.” Billy holds up a finger with each item he counts, shaking his hand out a little between to burn off a little excitement. It’s his way of saying, though he does translate it for Steve as well, “Basically, they’re perfect, Stevie. Thank you.”

Steve hums in his throat, a content little noise, and gives Billy a bunny kiss. Just to be sure everything is truly as back to normal as it feels, he asks, “Are we okay?”

Billy tilts his face up to kiss Steve’s nose, “Yeah. I think we’re better than okay.”

“In that case..” Steve smiles, relieved, and decides it’s finally time to move this date along, “Want a slice of cake?”

Billy raises an eyebrow like he isn’t sure, but his pearly grin gives his true feelings away, “Is it strawberry?”

“Obviously. I made it just for you!” Steve finally admits to his true romantic plan, and the gestures he went through for today. He doesn’t need to hide himself. That only makes things more complicated.

The flattered laugh that earns from Billy is just proof that this is the easier way, “You know me so well.”

Reflecting on it now, he really does know him. They’re going to mess up, and things won’t always be super perfect, but deep down he knows Billy’s heart. They’d fought hard to savor the love that makes that possible, and to have each other and just be safe.

This wasn’t enough to break them. Nothing is. And February 14th, 1987, is the day Steve Harrington promises out loud to love Billy for the rest of their lives, and to never, ever let something as stupid as his own worries get in the way of that again.

Three years later, on that very day, they got ‘married’ on a beach in California.

In ‘98, they took their four year old twins, a boy and a girl, out on the holiday to see Billboard Dad in the theaters.

They have a lot of special Valentine's Days, but none as much as the first, when Steve gifted Billy a pair of earrings he wore one or both of every single day from there on out, and when everything actually worked out just fine.

~~~

Now that I’m not spoiling anything, here’s the results for the polls!! The final prompt ended up being:

PRESENT: the earrings he was eyeing at the mall

LOCATION: Steve’s house

ANGST: two sided miscommunication

Thank you all for voting by the way!! Much love from EJ!! <3

[coachtfd]

I recall telling you the season would’ve been gone by October and I was damn right about that. Now it’s just the waiting game to see the rest of my predictions come true. Ten Hag is so getting that boot and it will be very much deserved. I don’t like him neither as a manager nor as a person so I will be elated when he finally fucks right off. 700 million spent and we don’t have 11 players who would apply whatever he wants to do on the pitch… please don’t even try to defend that incompetence. And don’t tell me he had no influence over who he was getting cause I gotta holler at that. Half of his old Ajax was brought to Manchester yet he can’t make them play decent football. Fraud.

My reply to a YouTube comment I received this weekend:

“ They (City and Liverpool) have the luxury of benching players who don’t perform well because they have quality players to replace them. If Amad isn’t at it or hurt, all we have is Antony. All we have after Bruno is Eriksen. He’s needed in deep midfield most of the time, he’s streaky good at best, and doesn’t have the legs to play box-to-box every week. I totally hear you and agree, but this is why we have to continue turning over the squad. City basically turned their squad over twice before they won the league, before they got the composition right. They wasted so much money on the likes of Robinho, Stephen Ireland and others, but they did move the needle. A good number of those players weren’t there when they won the league, it happens. But are their fans complaining now when they see how dominant they are? Don’t think so. That’s what we have to be willing to endure until we get it right, and we will.”

We can sack him tomorrow, it won’t change anything. We’ll get someone new, get a new manager bounce that lasts until the end of the season, just like Ole. We’ll qualify for the Europa League, stop our turnover because suddenly Rashford, Casemiro and Lindelof look like a million bucks again. And a year from now when Adama Traore is blowing past all of them to set up a goal for a 3-1 loss at Old Trafford and our “proper” manager is wondering why we’ve dropped points in 5 of our last 7 games, I’ll be sitting here with nothing to say because I’m busy snacking on Reese’s and enjoying the debacle. 😂 I’ll especially love it if they make good on those Southgate rumors and bring him in. Careful what you wish for people. They’re not doing a deep dive, they’re shiny object shopping.

[truck-fump]

Busting the “Paid What You’re Worth” Myth You’ve probably heard...

New Post has been published on https://robertreich.org/post/719479979886379008

Busting the “Paid What You’re Worth” Myth You’ve probably heard...

Busting the “Paid What You’re Worth” Myth 

You’ve probably heard that everyone is “paid what they’re worth.” Don’t buy it.

According to this mythology, workers at the bottom are “unskilled” and don’t deserve more than what they currently earn.

Minimum wage workers at McDonald’s are paid what they are worth in the so-called “free market.” If they were worth more, they’d earn more.

By the same logic, the CEO of McDonald’s is worth his multi-million dollar compensation package.

The notion that people are paid what they’re “worth” is by now so deeply ingrained in the public consciousness that many who earn very little assume it’s their own fault that they don’t earn more. That they simply lack the skills they need to be paid more.

But there’s no such thing as unskilled workers. Only underpaid workers. Their productivity — that is the value of what they produce — has been growing for decades. The problem is that their wages haven’t kept pace with their productivity.

The “paid what you’re worth” mythology also lures the unsuspecting into thinking nothing can be done to change what people are paid. It’s simply the way the market works.

Meanwhile, according to this same view, CEOs who rake in tens of millions and Wall Street traders who rake in hundreds of millions, are simply being paid what they’re “worth” because that’s what the market has dictated.

Rubbish. The “paid what you’re worth” fairytale ignores power and disregards policies that have made inequality skyrocket. Like the demise of antitrust enforcement, which has given big corporations the power to set prices, make record profits, and reward their CEOs unprecedented compensation. This fairytale ignores the attacks on labor unions that have reduced union membership from over a third of all private-sector workers in the 1950s to just 6 percent today. All of this resulting in a massive shift in power and wealth from workers to owners.

Those at the top justify their staggering wealth, and they’re “worth,” three ways:

The first is trickle-down economics. They claim that their wealth trickles down to everyone else as they invest it and create jobs. Just wait for it… But as we know, wealth at the top has soared for decades and nothing has trickled down.

The second is the “free market.” They talk about market forces beyond their control. But remember, markets are created by rules. These rules don’t exist in nature; they are human creations. The political power of the wealthy has let them change the rules for their own benefit — busting unions, monopolizing industries, and reaping big tax cuts.

The third is the idea that they’re superior human beings. Sure, they may be talented but this doesn’t justify the staggering amount of wealth they are now taking home. Nor does it justify the amount of wealth they will pass down to heirs. The biggest intergenerational transfer of wealth in history will occur over the next 25 years as the richest 1.5% of Americans hand down roughly some $36 trillion dollars to their children and grandchildren. That doesn’t make those heirs superior. It makes them lucky.

The reality is there’s no justification for today’s extraordinary concentration of wealth at the very top. Or for how little people are paid at the bottom.

The “paid what you’re worth” myth has proven to be a cruelly effective way to put the blame on workers for not getting ahead — while giving the rich and powerful cover to rig the game for their own benefit.

It is distorting our politics, rigging our markets, and granting unprecedented power to a handful of people while millions of Americans struggle to get by.

Don’t fall for it.

[hanmasghost]

I dashed here as soon as I saw the notification 😅 can I get wakasa with little brother :))no rush!CONGRATS YOUR WORK IS AMAZING AND YOU ABSOLUTELY DESERVE IT AND SO MUCH MORE!Hooe life is treating you well and happy pride!

“Wakasa’s Lil’ Bro”

400 Special

Authors Note:

As soon as you could?! A a a a I’m honored💙 and thank you sm! I appreciate it! And happy pride😁✨

Pronouns: He/Him

Warning(s): ooc(?pretty sure it is), I’m Not the best as Wakasa so there may be poor representation(first time writing him)

HCs

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

❥ You never cease to amaze him

- You were around 7-9 and you somehow had become a mini version of him

- Sure you got hyper and showed more emotion, but you definitely acted a lot like him otherwise, facial expressions and all

❥ He taught you how to curse

- He may have called someone a bitch after they stole his parking spot once

- Forgot you were in the backseat before four year old you shouted “bitch!” giddily from your booster seat

- Was never able to get you to stop

❥ He keeps baby pictures of you in his wallet

❥ Constantly keeps Not of what you’re wearing everyday, sometimes he takes pictures if it’s too complicated

- Has a major fear of you being kidnapped due to his affiliations

❥ Enjoys giving you piggy back rides

- Doesn’t matter how old you are, just know that if you ask he will

- Just don’t wiggle, it makes you heavier and it’s just a hassle by than

⌦ .｡.:*♡

After not being answered Senju walked into her dear friends house, getting ready to shout at him for not answering her calls or the door but once she walked in she was instantly met with the sounds of grunting and rushed button pressing.

“I kicked that guys ass!” Someone shouted.

“Language.” A familiar voice said from another room.

“I did tho?”

“… yes you did.”

Confused, Senju walked into the apartment a bit more. Turning her head around the corner she sees Wakasa sitting on a couch with another boy, seemingly younger than her.

“Uhh… who is this?” Senju pointed down at the boy, only getting a “wait” finger in response.

Huffing and crossing her arms, Senju watched as the poorly made street fighters on screen continued to punch and kick at each other.

After almost ten minutes of watching the two boys play, they both finally turned their head to face the light pink haired teen with blank faces.

“What?” They said in sync, creeping Senju out a bit.

“Who’s the kid?”

“My brother, {Reader}” Wakasa replied as he turned his face back towards the screen along with his brother.

“New round?”

“Yeah.”

Senju furrowed her brows in annoyance. “Wakasa. We have a meeting today.”

“Can’t. Sorry.”

“What do you mean “cAnT. SOrRy”?!” Senju mocked the older dual haired male.

Wakasa sighed as the game paused. Both males turning their heads to face the teen girl with the blank expressions they wore once before.

“It’s brotherbondingdaysaturday so he/I can’t go to any meetings today.” Both boys said, somehow still creepily in sync with one another.

Senju paused.

“You’re brothers?” She was never told Wakasa had a brother, nor had the man ever said anything about having a teen brother either. Tho she couldn’t really not believe it. They both looked and acted the same. It’s not like Wakasa just said they were brothers.

“Yeah, I/he just said that.” The boys said in sync again.

“Can you guys stop that? It’s creeping me out.” Senju asked somewhat nervous.

“Whatever” the boys turned to each other an back at Senju.

“That was unintentional.” Whipping their heads towards the other, they continued in sync, “Stop that, I’m talking.” They both squinted their eyes and leaned towards the other.

“Banana bread.” Gasping after a few seconds of silence, the boys set down their controllers and ran past Senju into the kitchen.

“The banana bread!” Wakasa shouted as he put on some mits and opened the oven.

“Big bro! How’d you forget about it?!” {Reader} shouted at his older brother.

“I told you to remind me!”

“And I told you I’d forget!”

Nope.

Senju out. Seeing the cold, tired, and always bored Wakasa showing so much facial expressions was waaaay too weird for her. She could just cancel the meeting, she was the leader so it didn’t matter. They could always have a meeting tomorrow, atleast… that’s what she thought. Little did she know tomorrow was ‘fun day Sunday’ where the two boys sat in their pajamas and did nothing productive for a whole day.

But that was tomorrow! For now she’s gonna go cancel a meeting and go home and wipe this little “experience” from her memory as the two boys continued to play video games and argue about whose fault it was the banana bread almost burnt.

[solarwonux]

10. I still remember the way you taste.

yoongi x f!reader

w.c: 3.8k (YES I GOT CARRIED AWAY SUE ME)

warnings: smut, semi unprotected sex, make up sex, some angst. Briefly edited.

note: lol i think I forgot how to write smut but anyway, hi, um, yes I got carried away lmao. But yeah let me know your thoughts. Send me a drabble prompt hehe. Thank you for reading I hope you enjoy.

drabble game

“I still remember the way you taste.”  Yoongi’s  knee is wedged in between your thighs as he attacks your neck in desperate open-mouthed kisses. “Yoongi, f-fuck, s-stop.” You say in between pants, placing your hands against his chest in an attempt to create some sort of space between the two of you. 

Yoongi smirks against your skin and lifts his head, eyeing you down, pushing his hips further into yours, showing you how much he needed you. “I’ve been holding back from you all weekend. The guys even have a bet going on to see how long I can keep my distance from you.” His hand travels down the side of your body, bunching your silk dress up to your thighs. “Safe to say Jungkook, Hoseok, and Seokjin have lost.” 

You roll your eyes. “God, don’t talk about them right now.” You run a finger down his clothed chest, stopping above the first button of his vest. “At least not when you’re about to fuck me in the bathroom of your best friend’s wedding reception” You pop the first button, earning an enticing low groan from your ex-boyfriend. 

“Hey!” He exclaims flicking your forehead lightly, “he’s your best friend too.” 

“Yoongi, I’m serious I hear their names come out of your lips one more time and I’ll leave you to take care of yourself.” You say as he apologizes with a nod of his head. You unbutton the next two buttons of his vest, stopping before pushing it off his body finally taking in the situation and your surroundings. The bathroom wasn’t dirty, nor was it clean. It had a musty smell making you wonder if someone had already done the deed before the two of you walked in.  “Maybe we shouldn’t do this here.” You quirk a questioning eyebrow. 

He shakes his head in disbelief, “I’m not walking through the reception and the hotel lobby with a boner.” He grinds his hips against yours, proving his point. You let out a moan throwing your head back, hitting the wall behind you lightly. He felt so good, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the hand dryer was painfully digging into your back. You would’ve agreed with his statement. 

“Just stay behind me, I’ll cover you. Who’s room is closer?” You push him away, finally creating the distance you needed. You turn to face the mirror, fixing your smudged lipstick. Yoongi was shocked, staring at you. God, you were so sexy, the product of his late-night escapades by himself. Especially after the two of you had mutually called it quits. 

All throughout the weekend you were driving him crazy, reeling him in to then push him away. He suspects that was your revenge for breaking up with you. One you only agreed to because you knew that once his mind was set on something, there was no way to talk him out of it. 

He had almost survived. Almost. That small buzzword was thrown out the window the second you entered the green room where he and all the rest of the groomsmen were waiting in to let them know the ceremony was going to start in five minutes. The long silk lilac dress you were wearing left little to his imagination, one he didn’t have to use much because he had spent years memorizing every single part of your body. 

You giggle at his dazed look, sending him a wink through the mirror before turning to face him again, planting a slow sensual kiss against his lips, pulling away before he could respond. “Hurry up or I might change my mind.” You pat his chest and walk past him. “I’ll wait outside.” You say in a sing-song voice and Yoongi was now fully convinced you were messing with him. Exuding your revenge and he had foolishly fallen into your trap. 

The walk through the reception was a nightmare. 

Yoongi felt like he couldn’t breathe, his hand sweating in between yours. He sent glares into your back and they only got worse every time you stopped to talk about your new start-up business, with someone he barely recognized. He was proud of you for finally leaving your job. He had witnessed many of your angry breakdowns, his heart shattering every time you cried into his chest because of how unhappy you were working for your dream company. That when he finally got word that you had left and started your own company, boldly rivaling your old one. The sigh of relief he let out was monumental. He was proud of you and would’ve told you, praised you, as you happily explained your ideas. That’s if he was thinking with his head and heart not his dick, which was straining painfully against the waistband of his slacks. If it wasn’t for his suit jacket doing most of the work in hiding it he would’ve died out of pure agony and embarrassment.  

“We finally found an office and we’re moving in when Jimin gets back from his honeymoon. Sadly, he says I’m not allowed to start decorating without him, scared I’ll put an outside fountain in the middle of the whole place.” You say, prompting a booming laugh from Jimin’s dad. 

Jimin’s mom shakes her head, “he gets his perfectionism from my side of the family, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry, honestly, I don’t have an ounce of interior design in my body, so I’d rather he be there to supervise before he yells at me saying that I’ve ruined everything.” 

Yoongi could feel the sweat start to pool above his brow, tuning you and Jimin’s parents out. He had never felt this needy in his entire life. He supposes it's the adrenaline rush of seeing you in such a revealing dress or the fact that he missed you. The last year and a half without you had been awful. Everything reminded him of you and he had to fight the urge to just call you. He never did. Afraid you had found it in yourself to finally hate him for breaking your heart. 

“Yoongi, sweetheart, are you okay?” Jimin’s mom asked, placing the back of her hand against his forehead, making him flinch. “Oh dear, you’re burning up, maybe you should go lay down.” The worry in her voice was evident, melting his heart. Jimin’s parents always treated him like he was one of their own, welcoming him with open arms when Jimin had first invited him and the guys over for lunch after school almost ten years ago. When Yoongi’s parents had kicked him out for choosing to study music production instead of something ‘meaningful’ they had taken him and even offered to pay for his school expenses. He owed them a lot, and if circumstances were different he would’ve thanked them profusely, just like he always did.  

“I think he has a fever so I’m going to walk him back to his room.” You nod your head, letting go of his hand and looping your arm with his. “It must’ve been the shrimp appetizer, he’s never been good with seafood, right baby?” The evil glint in your eye was too much. You’re teasing was getting too much for him to handle. He’s never seen this side of you. It excited him. 

“Right!” 

“Oh please, hurry, we’ll let Jimin know you had to leave early I’m sure he’ll understand.” Jimin’s mom said, pushing the two of you towards the exit. 

Once the two of you were away, closer to the double doors of the reception hall you leaned in, “How are you holding up?” 

“Get me out of here before I drag you to the nearest bathroom again.” 

“Wait, wait, wait.” You hold your hand out before Yoongi can step any closer to your body. A sound of annoyance erupting from his chest. Once upon a time, Yoongi had prided himself in being patient. Tonight was not one of those times. 

The second the two of you were alone in the elevator, his hands and mouth were all over you. Painting beautiful flowers with his mouth against your skin. The noises he had elicited from you made his chest swell with pride and his cock throb painfully against his pants. Every ounce of self control he once harbored was long gone. He didn’t want to miss another second where he wasn’t touching you. 

Yoongi had almost lost his mind while you were fumbling to get the door to your hotel room open. Though, that was mainly his fault, he literally couldn’t keep his hands off of you. 

Yet, now that you were finally in the safety of your hotel room, Yoongi didn’t understand why you were still resisting him and it made him even more frustrated both sexually and emotionally. “What, what do I have to wait for now, I’m so close to coming in my pants please just let me fuck you.” He all but begged, even considered getting down on his knees and kissing the ground you walked on. Though, when he saw you smirk, he knew he had done exactly what you had hoped he would do. 

“Fuck you.” He closed the distance, sighing when you innocently took a step back. 

“I’m trying to but I need to take my shoes off.” You pouted, pointing to your heel cladded feet in front of you, arms behind your back as you swayed from side to side. Yoongi shook his head before taking you into your arms and walking you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed. You fell back sitting down as Yoongi got down on his knees in front of you. 

“Are you punishing me?” He asked with a pout on his lips. 

You giggled placing both of your hands against his cheeks and squishing them. “Yes.” You affirmed kissing his lips, “I think you deserve it for leaving me.” You gave his cheeks a light tap. “Now get to work or I’ll kick you out.” 

Yoongi scoffed, placing your left foot on top of his knees. His fingers unbuckling the buckle around your ankle slowly, his eyes burning holes into your soul. You swallowed nervously as he slipped it off, his lips connecting with the skin of your ankle, kissing the tiny stick n poke tattoo he had given you after a particularly stressful week of finals, almost three years ago.

 It was crooked. The points of the star weren’t as perfect as he would’ve liked them to be. But it had been entirely your fault. You kept moving, yelping out in dramatized agony every time he poked the needle into your skin, tears welling up in the corner of your eyes. He knew you were just doing it to scare him. Your pain tolerance was higher than any normal human being, which is why he continued his masterpiece, ignoring your pleas to stop. Nevertheless, with a childish pout you had expressed your love for it in more ways than one and vowed to never cover it up no matter what. 

You had kept true to your word. 

“I didn’t mean to.” He sighed, kissing your inner thigh, then moving to the other one. He had long removed your other heel and was now showering you with all the kisses he hadn’t been able to give you in the last year and a half.  “I didn’t want to break up with you.”

His hands traveled up the side of your legs, pushing your dress up further until the white lace of your panties were visible to his soft eyes. He bit his lip, taking in how much of an effect he still had on you. In all honesty, it made him feel on top of the world that your body was still so responsive to his touch. 

“Why did you?” Your voice wavered and you blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. Though, you had agreed with his decision to break things off. It had hurt more than you had intended it to hurt. You were left dazed and confused wondering how he could just wake up one day and decide that you weren’t enough for him anymore. 

“You stopped chasing your dreams because of me.” The guilt he had felt every time he held you while you cried out in anger spilled out. The tears now fell down your eyes while he laid you down, taking your dress with him, bringing it over your head and throwing it to the side knocking over the glass of water you kept on your nightstand every night. 

You jumped hitting his chest, “That dress was expensive.” You sniffed and wrapped your arms around his neck, “you’re the biggest idiot I know, I hate you.” You said, burying your head into his chest, mascara staining his pristine white dress shirt, while you unbuttoned it.

 He knew you weren’t crying because of the dress, but this was also not what he meant when he wanted to have you crying tonight. You were right, he was an idiot. 

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, grabbing your head making you look at him. His own eyes were now filled with tears as he wiped away your own. “I didn’t know what else to do. You weren’t happy.” He kissed your cheek then moved down to your neck, tonguing the spot underneath your ear that he knew would have you weak in your knees. “I-I wasn’t happy.” He confessed against your skin. 

He had never once said it out loud and now that he had, while you pushed his shirt off his shoulders, undressing him further,  he felt childish. “You could’ve just talked to me about it.” You sighed moving your hands down his chest, your manicured nails scraping his skin lightly. He shuddered, the coldness of your touch was something he had never been able to get used to. He had missed it. 

“I know.” He licked down your neck, his fingers playing with your bottom lip, taping it lightly. “I didn’t know how to approach the situation.” His eyes all but rolled back as you took his fingers into your mouth, moaning around his digits. Your mouth was so hot and wet. He wanted to be inside of it, fucking it until you were sputtering and crying tears of pleasure, his precum mixing with your saliva. But he decided he could wait to fulfill his fantasy, right now he needed to show you much he still loved and cared about you. 

Yoongi took his fingers out of your mouth, trailing his moist digits down your neck, painting a masterpiece until they wrapped around your nipples, pinching it, while his mouth kissed around your other nipple. The low sighs of pleasure you were making were astronomical. A beautiful melody he will never get tired of listening to. 

“S-So you decided to break up with me, f-fuck.” You gasped when he lightly bit down on your nipple. It was euphoric, enough to have you reaching your orgasm. You were overly sensitive, overwhelmed with the fact that he was so close to you again. 

“I thought we already agreed that I’m an idiot.” He joked and sat back on his knees, pushing your thighs apart with his hands. The only thing keeping you covered were your panties that were sticking onto you like a second skin and it was driving him insane. 

“Let me keep reminding you then.” You smirked and sat up on your elbows, lifting your hips from the bed to meet his. “Break my heart again and I’ll cut off your dick, and this time I sincerely mean it my love.” He shuddered, your menacing words filled with possibilities and hope. Hope that after tonight you and him could start over again. 

“Have I ever told you how much you actually scare me?” He tilted his head with curiosity, pushing your panties to the side. His mouth watering when he felt how truly wet you were for him. He wanted you in every single way possible. To drink you up like sweet honey dew juice. If he wasn’t so impatient he would’ve buried his face in between your legs, until you were cumming on his tongue. 

“Once or twice.” You lifted your hips as he slid your panties down your legs. He threw them to the side giving your hip a light kiss. “Maybe more than three times.” You gasped as he pushed two of his fingers inside of you. 

His eyes catching sight the other miniscule stick n poke tattoo he had given you after graduation. This time it was a beautiful cursive ‘y’ adorning the skin of your mound, the adrenaline along with the alcohol that was running through both of your veins that night, had numbed you out enough to have you lying still, giggling at his concentration instead of screaming out in pain. 

He moved his fingers, his cock aching to be freed from it’s constraints. He was so painfully hard, aching to be buried inside of you. “I think I told you more than that.” He curled his fingers, hitting the mushy spot inside of you making you gasp. 

“Yoongi, whatever, just please get inside of me before I kick you out.” You arched your back, lifting your hips as his fingers slowly teased you, opening you up for him. You hadn’t been fucked in such a long time. In fact, the last person you had sex with you was the one teasing you right now. 

He huffed rolling his eyes and took out his fingers. “Stop threatening me like that.” He said, bringing his fingers up to your mouth, painting your lips with your arousal. “It hurts my feelings.” 

“Then hurry up.” Your fingers reached over playing with the button of his pants, popping it open as you eyed him through lust filled hooded eyes, “We can play more another day, right now I need you inside of me before I die.” You pleaded. His eyes got wide, his mind ran faster than usual, making sure he had heard you right. 

Another time, you had said. He had heard you right. His hearing wasn’t as bad as he claims it to be, especially when it came to you and anything that leaves your mouth. He nodded and helped you push his pants along with his boxers down his legs. He kicked them away. A low moan escaped his lips when he felt your delicate hand wrap around his hard cock. Your thumb running over his red tip, spreading around the precum. 

“Do you have a condom?” He asked in a choked whisper as he tried his hardest not to cum in your hand. 

You shook your head no, a pout forming on your lips, “I don’t, I thought you would have one.” You kissed his chest lightly as you kept moving your hand around him. “I’m still on the pill though.” You pulled away and looked up at him giving him a knowing wink. 

He swallowed and pushed you softly, laying you down. “Honestly, I didn’t think this would ever happen again so I didn’t bring anything.” 

Your hand around him fell to your side as he climbed over you slowly. “Tell me if it hurts okay, I’ll stop.” He reassured before aligning himself up at your entrance. He ran the tip of his cock over your pussy gathering your essence before pushing himself in. 

“Y-Yoongi, oh my g-god, f-fuck.” You arched your back, digging your nails into the skin of his shoulders. You felt so deliciously good around him, your name falling out of his lips like a silent prayer. 

He buried his face into your neck, planting open mouthed down your neck, biting down lightly when he felt you clench around him. “Can I keep going?” He mumbled. “I need to feel all of you.” 

“Yes, please Yoongi please.” You gasped when you felt him bottoming out inside of you. The pleasure was mind numbing. Your pussy stretching over his cock after such a long time was otherworldly. 

His hands found yours and he intertwined your fingers with his, placing your arms above your head as he started thrusting into you slowly. His eyes burning into yours, refusing to let your gaze go.

Nothing was heard, except for skin slapping against skin. His low grunts combining with your loud moans as he fucked into you faster. The sound of your wet pussy motivating him to continue his ministries. Neither of you were sure how much time had passed, the only thing that mattered was the desperate chase of your highs. 

“Make me cum please.” You pleaded over and over again, as he pistoned his hips into you faster and harder. The knot forming against the pit of your stomach. You kept clenching around him and he knew you were close to the edge. He was too, he could feel the tightness of his balls as his thrusts became sloppy. 

“B-Baby, I’m close.” He bit down on your neck as you arched your back, your nipples brushing against his lightly. 

You dug your nails into his knuckles, raising your hips to meet his desperate thrusts. “Me too, I’m so close.” You gasped as he rolled his hips into yours. The change of rhythm had you screaming out in pleasure. 

He let go of one of your hands, not wasting a second in finding your swollen clit, rubbing fast circles against it with his thumb, “Gonna cum around me my angel, gonna let me paint your walls white.” He panted, his sweaty bangs falling over his eyes. He looked like a greek God, Adonis himself. 

“F-Fuck yes Yoongi, fuck I-I’m coming.” You choked out, the pressure at the pit of your stomach finally breaking. Your pussy fluttering around him, your orgasm taking over your body in pleasure filled spasms. 

Yoongi pushes into you harder, his thumb working against your clit as you ride out your high beneath him. Seeing you so fucked out was enough to tether over the edge, in a silent moan, his own orgasm taking over his body, painting your walls with his sticky substance, filling you up to the brink. “G-God, I love you.” He said after he had somewhat composed himself. 

You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into your body. You didn’t want him to move yet, “I love you too Yoongi.” You whispered leaving innocent pecks against his jawline. He chuckled laying his head against your chest. You brushed his hair away from his face. Both of your chests heaving at the same time, as you tried to catch your breaths. 

“Was that okay?” He spoke after a long moment of silence. He rested his chin against your chest looking at you through worrisome eyes. “You don’t hate me anymore right?” 

“I never did.” You smiled, making his heart sore, “It was perfect, I missed you...a lot” You added kissing his nose. 

“I missed you too, maybe a little too much if I’m being honest. I really am sorry angel.” He cuddled into you further, feeling himself grow soft inside of you. You felt his arousal along with yours slide down your legs and you had to hold back from begging him to take you again and again. 

“I know just don’t do it again.” 

“I’d be actually crazy if I did.”

[thefanficmonster]

What's It To You?

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: To some people, relationship labels aren’t important. To some they aren’t important only in theory. Well, Y/N finds out she falls in the later category, leading to a falling out with her boyfriend Corpse.

Requested by Anon. You’ll know who you are when you read the fic 😉 Thank you for the ‘angsty argument’ request. I hope I captured what you had in mind and I hope you enjoy the read. Love, Vy 🥰

The time is nearing 7PM and Corpse has barely eaten anything. I always keep track of his meals and time spent in front of a computer screen, making sure he doesn’t spend too much time exhausting his eyes or starving himself. He never notices he’s hungry until he takes a bite of something and his appetite grows in  matter of seconds. The real battle is to get him to take that first bite.

I get up from the couch, walking into the kitchen. I open the fridge, scanning its contents for any ideas that might pop into my head for dinner. When nothing comes to mind, I resort to my last option - asking him. There’s only a slight chance he’ll be of any help. He’ll most likely say he’s not hungry or that he’ll make himself something late. He never does. I’ve gotten used to him being a man-child when it comes to eating. In the eleven months that we’ve been dating, I’ve force fed him more times than he has eaten on his own terms.

I go upstairs, stopping outside the door to his recording room to see if he’s talking to someone so I don’t walk in and interrupt. When no noises come from the inside I knock. 

“Come in.“ 

Upon opening the door, I’m met with Corpse nonchalantly sitting in his desk chair, leaning as back as he can without tipping over. Arms folded behind his head, legs stretched out in front of him. The whole nine yards, suggesting that he not streaming.

“Hey.“ He greets me as he turns his chair a bit in an attempt to face me

“Hey, what’d you like for dinner?“ He opens his mouth to reply the millisecond after I have spoken my question. I already know what that reply will be so I hurry to prevent it, “And no, ‘later’ and ‘I’m not hungry’ aren’t on the menu.“

He sighs, shaking his head as though he’s disappointed that I caught onto his game. The smile that slowly makes its way to his lips, however, suggests that he appreciates my concern. “Grilled cheese sandwiches? I mean, if you feel like it.”

I smile, relieved that the usual convincing portion of our interaction on this specific matter has been avoided. “Ok. Be down in fifteen then.” I give him a nod before heading back out into the hallway.

Before I am able to close the door, I hear someone else’s voice come from behind me. “Hey Corpse, was that on your end?”

Oh shit, he wasn’t muted

“Yeah man, sorry. Accidentally unmuted myself.“ Corpse sounds unbothered by this, but I am a little uneasy now.

Corpse and I have agreed to keep our relationship by a ‘won’t ask, won’t tell’ rule - if someone asks him if he’s in a relationship, he won’t lie and say no, but we haven’t gone public nor do we plan on doing so without someone asking us about it head-on. Well, not us. Him. His friends don’t know me and neither do his fans. I’m not in the same industry. I don’t stream nor film YouTube videos. The most I do for that platform is help Corpse with some editing when he needs to have a rest. So, if anyone were to reveal our relationship, it’d be him.

“Oooh, who was that?“ A girl’s voice asks teasingly. “Corpse, what are you not telling us?“

By this point, I’m out in the hall but I left my ears in the room. I know I’m not in the right here - eavesdropping is most definitely not nice, but I can’t help myself.

I hear him chuckle, “Nah, it’s just my friend Y/N.”

My heart drops so suddenly for a reason beyond my understanding. I feel like a kid feels when it’s told Santa isn’t real - I can’t believe what I heard. 

I hurry to get back downstairs as soon as possible and also as quietly as I can. It’s tough, running with a pit in your stomach and a knot of I’m pretty sure is tears in your throat. When I’m finally in the kitchen, the aforementioned tears are blurring my vision. I try to blink them away but accidentally send one of them trickling down my cheek.

I’m aware this might be an overreaction and if I stopped to think I could probably find ways to justify what Corpse said. But I’m genuinely hurt, and I hate that I am.

I’ve never cared about what others know about me or think of me. Same goes for my relationships. I don’t put labels on things nor on my connection to people. I am surprised and disturbed by how much the label ‘friends’ bothers me. We’ve been dating for almost a year now, you’d think calling me his girlfriend would be second nature. Guess not.

I swallow the hurt and surprise, deciding to keep myself busy with the preparations for the dinner I was planning to make. However, keeping my hands full and giving my eyes a place to look doesn’t stop my thoughts from eating away at me. 

                                                             * * *

Twenty minutes later the sound of a door opening echoes from upstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps going through the hallway and then down the stairs. 

“It smells so good in here.“ He comments, his eyebrows raising when he takes in the freshly made sandwiches on the kitchen island. “You’re the best, Y/N.“

“Hmm, aren’t you lucky you have a friend who knows their way around the kitchen, huh?“ I reply sharply, not even sparing him a glance.

In the twenty minutes I was left alone with my wilding thoughts I declared that I wouldn’t beat around bush when he comes downstairs. That I would address the issue and tell him exactly how I feel about it. What I didn’t plan was being so harsh. I actually barely contain a wince when I realize how sharp of an edge my words had.

I feel ten times more guilty when I see the regret that flashes on his face, “You heard that.” He grips the edges of the table, leaning down and letting out a sigh, “I’m sorry, I panicked.”

The anger in me evaporates, leaving room for the hurt to keep spreading and take over me. I was never really angry with him, I’m just upset by the fact that his immediate reaction wasn’t to refer to me as his girlfriend. 

“Why would you panic? What’s it to you if they know?“ My voice is barely above a whisper now, the tears I’m fighting back are clogging my throat, not allowing me to sound as clearly as I’d like.

“What’s it to you? I thought you didn’t care.“ He argues back, his gaze travelling from the tabletop to my eyes. I see the guilt in all his features and his body language.

“I thought so too.“ I shake my head, “But hearing you call me a ‘friend’...’just a friend’ stings. I don’t even know why, but it does. It feels almost like you are embarrassed of me. If that’s the case you can just tell me, you know?“

In a blink of an eye he’s crouched down in front of me, one hand holding both of mine while the other cups my cheek. “It’s not. It has never been and it will never be the case. You are one amazing person, Y/N. You deserve the world, not to be stuck with me. I’m just...” He trails off, his eyes not able to focus on mine any longer, “I’m scared of how people knowing about us will affect our relationship.”

My blood starts boiling again. I know I need to get away from him before I reach the point of saying something that’ll hurt him, so I untangle my hands from his grasp, pulling away from him. “Weak excuse, Corpse. You know it will change nothing except make me feel more included in your life. I will no longer feel like I’m a house rat no one knows about.” I stand up, unable to look at him, and start heading for the staircase. 

“Y/N, please! ”I stop dead in my tracks when he calls out my name, his footsteps following behind me. “Don’t be...-”

I turn around, cutting him off in the process, “I need to be alone right now.” I tilt my head in the direction of the dining table, “Sit down and eat dinner. We’ll talk...later.”

                                                             * * *

Now that it’s been almost twelve hours with no contact between us I realize that my reaction was justified only to a certain extent. I understand his concerns and I could’ve expressed mine a little more calmly and in a lot less accusatory manner. But what happened happened and all I can do now is go over to him and apologize, establish a proper communication to resolve the issue that I so stupidly blew out of proportion.

My phone died sometime during the night and has been sitting on the charger but still turned off for a while. I go over to it and press-hold the start button. While it’s powering up I start changing my from my pajamas into my regular clothes, noticing a small stain on my shirt in the process. As I’m examining the stain, my phone starts going crazy with notifications, causing me to jump and drop my shirt.

“Fucking hell.” I mumble, disconnecting my phone from the charger and looking at the huge list of notifications on my lock screen. They are all alerts of new followers, likes and tags, non from people I know. Non except one.

@ corpse_husband tagged you in a post 

Wait what?

I tap the notification which leads me to a picture Corpse posted two hours ago. It’s a picture of me taken in the living room without my knowledge. I’m an oversized sweater and yoga pants, my hair in a messy braid and my attention caught by the book in my hands. My glasses have slipped a bit down my nose, suggesting that I’m too concentrated on the contents of the pages in front of me that I haven’t noticed.

We started off as friends but it didn’t take long for her to become my best friend. And then she stole my heart. I know you’ll read this eventually, Y/N. So...hi. Love you. 

PS - the sandwiches were bomb 🖤

I’m more than caught off guard. Like a surprise hug from behind, warmth spreading all throughout my body. 

Without a second of hesitation I put my phone down and run to the bedroom door. However, I don’t make it very far considering I nearly run straight into Corpse’s chest as I exit the room. He catches me before I knock him straight to the ground, thankfully.

“Aren’t you a rocket this morning. Where are you headed?“ He chuckles, holding onto my upper arms.

One look at his smile, a single word out of his mouth and I’m melting. I walk straight into him, wrapping my arms around his torso, hiding my face in his chest. He comfortably rests his chin on the top of my head, not asking any further questions until I finally answer.

“Right here. I was heading for you.“ I whisper before I pull away enough to be able to look him in the eyes. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I was being childish and overdramatic and I’m sorry about all I said. I was really upset.“

“It’s ok, baby. I’m sorry for making you upset in the first place. I understand now how much it means to you.“ He caresses my cheekbone with the back of his hand. “I...um...tried to make things right by...“

I push up on my toes, pressing my lips against his, putting an end to his timid stuttering. “I saw it.” I mumble in the kiss.

“Did you like it?“ 

“I loved it.“

“Did you read the comments?“

My heart skips a beat when I hear that dreaded term. Just the thought of reading through the comments terrifies me. I tell myself that some strangers’ words aren’t gonna have an impact on me, but I know they will. Especially since these ‘strangers’ mean so much to Corpse.

I shake my head. He pulls away, taking my hand and leading me towards the living room. “You have to. You’re gonna love them.”

I reluctantly follow him, plopping down on the couch next to him as he pulls out his phone and scrolls through the comment section of the picture he posted. He was right. All these people have said such things about me and about our relationship. Some verified names are also there, sharing their support much like the fans. 

“See, this is why I was nervous. I’ll have to do duels for your attention now.“ He glances at me, leaning in and kissing my temple as he sometimes does so impulsively.

“You don’t do duels when you are already sitting at the throne. Right next to me.“ I once again capture his lips with mine, tempted to never pull away, but also tempted to keep reading the comments.

Damn, he might be right about the duels.

He takes his phone from me setting it aside as he slowly lifts me and settles me in his lap, never letting our lips detach.

Nevermind. Fuck the duels

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze

[fruitcoops]

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

[prettylibero]

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞.

╰┈➤ ❝ [𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢, 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨, 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨, 𝐎𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚, 𝐔𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚] ❞

♡ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 @𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡. 𝐢𝐥𝐲.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

𝐒𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢

When Nishinoya, Asahi and Kageyama couldn't reach that last block from Seijoh, you could see how your boyfriend's shoulders released all the tension. It was all over.

You also saw him going to comfort the first years on the court, and you were able to see his watery eyes when they formed a line and bowed in front of the audience.

Now, you were waiting for him outside the locker room.

When Daichi finally came out, you quickly approached him and gave him tight hug.

"You did amazing, baby." You whispered in his ear and kissed his cheek. He hid his face in the crook of your neck. Trying not to start sobbing right there.

"We lost y/n. We aren't going to the nationals and it's my fault." He let out some tears and hugged you back. "The whole team looked so disappointed, but Hinata and Kag-"

"It isn't your fault Daichi. I saw the entire game and you guys were incredible." His voice was weak and you know he was already crying so you took his face with your hands and made him look directly to your eyes. "Oikawa was on the verge of tears everytime you received one of his serves." He smiled sadly.

You wiped his tears while he looked at you intensely and you couldn't help but blush. He took your chin between his fingers and kissed you.

"Thank you so much."

Lev hit the ball that Kenma set for him but the other team's middle blockers stopped his spike and Yaku couldn't save it.

Kuroo Tetsurō

"Fuck." Kuroo said under his breath while he ran his fingers through his black messy hair. It wasn't an important game but Kuroo loved to win anyways.

Now, you and him were lying on his bed. He also loved sleeping with you in his arms after a long and tired game.

Your head was on his chest and you were drawing little hearts on it. He has been silent for a quite long time, and you didn't want to force him to talk.

"Do you think Lev was good in today's game? I feel like I'm not doing enough for helping him to improve." He said playing with your hair.

"He was amazing. All of you were amazing. Lev is really improving and they just blocked him, it was a little mistake." You looked up to see his dark eyes locked onto the ceiling.

"I don't know y/n. If I had spent more time practicing with Lev, they wouldn't have blocked him." He sounded so angry with himself.

"You are always practicing with him and he is learning so much with you, Kuroo. He has improved a lot. I've seen you guys train together and I have seen all your games, you are the best captain he could've ask for! It wasn't your fault nor his."

"What did I do to deserve you?." He kissed the top of your head and kept stroking your hair until you fell asleep.

Bokuto Kōtarō

When the other team blocked his spike and ended up scoring that point, you could feel your heart break and your boyfriend's too.

He looked so sad and disappointed with himself not even Akaashi's praises could cheer him up.

You went down to the bleacher and ran to him but some random man stopped you with an angry face.

"I'm Bokuto's girlfriend!" You told him. He still wouldn't let you into the court until Akaashi came. "Let her in."

You ran to your sweaty boyfriend and took his cheeks between your hands. He was so sad that even his spiky hair was down.

"Bokuto." You called him looking for his gaze. "Baby, you did absolutely great. Cheer up, c'mon. You are Fukurōdani's ace! And you are in the top five aces of the country! This was the first game after summer, It'll get better I promise."

When you reminded him how amazing he is, his face lit up and he smiled big and bright.

He gave a quick peck to your lips and he walked to Akaashi "Hey hey hey! Akaashi come here! Let's practice! Set for me again!" You looked at your happy boyfriend with heart eyes.

Akaashi rolled his eyes and you couldn't help but laugh at him.

Oikawa Tōru

He freezed when he couldn't stop that last spike. He has lost against Kageyama; this is probably the worst thing that could've happened to Oikawa.

You went down to the bleacher trying to find him but none of his teammates saw him after that.

"Tōru? Tōru, where are you?" You looked for him outside the court. You heard a bunch of girls calling your boyfriend's name and you quickly ran to where they were. "Leave him alone!" You screamed pushing the girls away.

He was sitting on the floor in a corner of the hall surrounded by all his screaming fangirls. He was covering his face with his hands and his breathing was heavy.

You just waited for the girls to leave and then you kneeled down and called his name a few times but he kept crying.

"I'm not good enough, y/n. I've never been good enough for them. I'm a bad captain. They deserved better than this." He sobbed.

You tried to remove his hands from his face but he refused too. "Look at me, Tōru." He ignored you. "Please, baby."

When he finally revealed his face you wiped his tears using your thumbs. "Listen to me. Your teammates couldn't have asked for a better captain. You are more than enough, Oikawa, you are the great king!" Your touch made him shudder.

"Y/n is right." Iwaizumi said behind you. Oikawa looked at his best friend with tears in his eyes and he covered your hands on his cheeks with his.

"Then, you are my great queen." He told you and you smiled wide at him. You kissed his lips and Iwaizumi faked a gag sound.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Ushijima has been silent for the past ten minutes. He was walking you home and he hasn't said a word since the game ended.

He isn't a talkative person, you knew that, but this was different. He had his head down like a sad puppy and his eyes were focused on the pavement.

You looked at him and let out sigh. He was frowning and you knew what he was doing: analyzing second by second the entire game.

Suddenly, you wrapped his big and warm hand with your fingers. Deep inside he needed to feel you so when you grabbed his hand he grabbed yours too holding it tighly.

"You know Wakatoshi, If you don't want to talk about it, It's fine. But you are the best. No matter what. Nothing is going to change that, not even a stupid game."

He looked at you as you spoke, then he looked back to the pavement and nodded. He squeezed your hand with his fingers and you smiled.

"Thank you for being there." Wakatoshi told you while his cheeks blushed a little. "Not only today but always."

"It's nothing you should thank me for. I love going to your games." You sneaked between his strong arm and his body letting his arm rest on your shoulders and snuggled there while you both reached your house.

"Would you like to come in?" You looked up to see his face and he nodded. Wakatoshi leaned his face to yours and gave a little kiss to your nose.

[jumblejen]

Too Quiet

Suptober21 Day 4: Secrets

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34288495

The house was quiet. Dean realized it had been quiet for at least the past twenty minutes. Cas was at the store doing a grocery run and Jack is in his room. Dean was surprised at how far he’d made it through the dog-eared paperback since Cas left. Normally Jack would have been up in Dean’s space within thirty seconds asking about playing a game or baking something or taking a walk. But instead Dean has been sitting here, drinking his coffee and reading this book in peace.

Jack’s up to something.

Dean remembers the too-quiet of a little kid who is definitely doing something they shouldn’t be doing. Of course Sammy never had the power to make everyone stop lying or to resurrect angels from the Empty. Jack didn’t seem inclined to do those sorts of things anymore either. Neither Dean nor Cas could exactly pin him down on what powers he had left since de-aging himself.

Hauling himself out of the comfy chair, Dean climbed the stairs to Jack’s room. Taped to the door was a hastily scrawled ‘keep out’ sign in red crayon along with a serious frowny face. Dean smiled to himself as he knocked lightly.

“Jack? What’re you up to in there?”

“Go ‘way Papa. I’m doing something.”

“Jack, can I come in?”

“No Papa. It’s a secret.”

“What’s a secret?”

“If I tell you, won’t be secret. Go downstairs Papa.”

“Are you sure buddy?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Dean stared at the door for a few seconds. He wasn’t so sure about this but he didn’t want to wreck the kid’s sense of privacy. He was a good kid. Dean frowned as he made his way downstairs. Jack was a good kid, but what was he doing in there? Sammy and him never had this kind of privacy growing up. Motels and the backseat of a car don’t lend themselves to any sorts of secrets beyond the ones you locked up in your own head. Dean was sure it was fine. He sat back in his chair and picked up his book.

Another ten minutes and Cas came through the front door draped in cloth grocery bags. Dean took the outermost bags and started putting things away, “How was the store?”

“Not too crowded. They had cherries so I thought maybe you could make pie?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Where’s Jack?”

“In his room working on something ‘secret’.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I am respecting his right to alone time while hoping that nothing too weird is going on up there.”

“Is it a good idea to leave him on his own?”

“I got no idea. I mean, I don’t think he’d cut his own hair again and it’s his room with his stuff. But yeah, it’s been suspiciously quiet.”

“I’ll go check on him if you put away the rest of this stuff.”

Dean nodded as Cas kissed his temple and headed up the stairs. Dean could only hear a muffled knock and Cas muttering something before the door opened and then closed again quickly. Huh. Still, if Jack let Cas in he would know soon enough if it was dire. Humming under his breath it didn’t take long for him to stow the groceries but Cas and Jack hadn’t emerged. The house was once again eerily quiet. Restless and curious Dean climbed the stairs and knocked on Jack’s door.

“Who is it?” asked Jack in a sing-song voice.

“Papa. Can I come in?”

“Nope!” The cheerful chirp made Dean narrow his eyes.

“Why not?”

“Still working on my secret.”

“Well how come Daddy got to see your secret.”

“Because he’s Daddy. Silly Papa.”

“Well Papa wants to join in on the fun too.”

“No Papa! We aren’t ready yet.”

“Ready for what?”

“The secret.”

“When will it be ready.”

“Soon.”

“What does ‘soon’ mean?”

“Same thing as when you tell me we’ll get ice cream soon.”

Dean smiled ruefully, knowing he’d been beat. “Okay buddy. Do you want me to wait downstairs?”

“Yes please Papa! Love you Papa!”

“Love you too.” Dean’s smile broadened at the earnest words. Hard to be irritated when the kid was so goddamn happy. Dean didn’t think he’d ever get used to that sweet sharp pang when he realized he was maybe pretty good at this parenting thing, and maybe little Dean had deserved this kind of care too. He returned to the chair and his book, listening intently for the door opening. He couldn’t concentrate on the words but instead found himself nodding off a little when at last the squeak of hinges brought him all the way awake.

“Ok Papa! Close your eyes! Time for secrets!”

Dean closed his eyes, covering them with his hands for good measure. That way Jack could be sure there was no peaking.

“Careful on the stairs Jack.” The sound of Cas and Jack clumping down the stairs was followed by the stompy patter of Jack running into the room. The fact that a kid who weighed less than 50 pounds made more noise than his fully grown fathers was endlessly funny to Dean.

“Are your eyes closed Papa?”

“Yes Jack.”

“Good! Keep ‘em closed. Please.”

“Ok.” Dean felt something light land on his lap. “Can I look now?”

“Open your eyes!”

Dean followed the instructions looking into Jack’s beaming face before looking at his lap. He picked up the art project. It was made of two pieces of green construction paper taped together down the middle with a bunch of pictures pasted onto them haphazardly. “Thank you Jack. But why was this a secret.”

“’Cause Papa.  Made it for you.”

“It’s very nice. You worked hard on it, didn’t you.”

“Yup. But I don’t think you get it.”

“I don’t.”

“Dean,” Cas said quietly, eyes a little red. “Look closer.”

What had appeared to be random images all taped together without sense became something more as he studied it. Some were cut from magazines, some were drawn with a bit more skill than your average four-year-old. There was a dog and a pie. Blond hair, a hand on a shoulder, a baseball cap, a bit of a blurred multiple-choice test. A crown. A tire. A sheriff’s star. A burger. Grumpy cat. A riverboat and a pool cue and a microphone. And the more he looked the more he saw, each image meaningful. Over all of it was a bunch of blue circles. And Dean really looked at all of it, together as a whole.

“Buddy, what… I don’t… this is…”

“Papa I made you your heart. ‘Cause I know you worry about running out of love sometimes. Daddy said you can’t always remember about love ‘cause it’s not something you can see. So I made this so you can know it on the outside too. But I wanted to make it secret.”

“Jack, this is awesome.” Dean’s eyes filled with tears but he barely noticed them running down his cheeks. “Thank you.” Dean wiped at his eyes with the tissue Cas silently handed him. Looking up at Cas he wasn’t surprised to see tears there too. Carefully he set the picture onto the table and scooped up Jack into his arms holding him tightly. Blindly he felt for Cas’ hand. They’d come so far together, but Dean knew this was how they were meant to be. Together. Full of love. And the occasional secret.

[winterscaptain]

long shot.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic - no context required

a/n: this is in response to this ask in kind of a loose way, and also fulfills kiss prompt #6 (on a falling tear). i sat down and wrote this all in one sitting this weekend and it makes me smile SO MUCH. tell me what you think! i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it :) this one takes place in au!december 2012

words: 2.3k warnings: alcohol use/mention, allusions to sex, language

summary: “i couldn’t have dreamed you into existence because i didn’t even know i needed you. you must have been sent to me.” - kamand kojouri

It’s a rare early night off in December and you all make the ill-advised choice to go to the bar closest to the base for some drinks and dancing, completely forgetting that academy graduation is tomorrow. 

There’s part of you that feels aged by the whole thing. Even newly-minted agents your own age look fresh-faced and about a decade younger than you feel. 

When you all walk in, there’s a bit of a hush, a lull, in the conversations around you. You find eyes on you from all directions and realize your faces are familiar ones, and in the case of Aaron and Dave, almost-famous ones. 

Aaron pulls you further into him, almost shielding you with his body as you navigate through the crowd that parts before you. It seems like an eternity before you find a table, but Derek, Aaron, and Spencer hold down the fort while the rest of you manage drinks. Strategic postings at either end of the bar is likely going to get you the best return, so you fan out accordingly. 

It’s unsurprising in the least when the bartenders make a beeline for you all, getting your orders down and drinks started over the shouts of NATs - many of them already blasted with three or four shots under their belt. 

While you wait, you can still feel a fair few pairs of eyes on you. You meet one pair, set in the face of a rather handsome new agent about your age. He smiles at you, and you shift your eyes away from him, your expression unmoving. 

He apparently takes that as invitation enough. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot him as he winds his way to your side. 

You meet Aaron’s eyes across the room, and there’s a smile in them. You offer the smallest twitch of your lips and a wink. Watch this. 

Oh, I’m watching, his eyebrows say. 

“Hi.” The young agent finally reaches your side and offers his hand. You take it. “Agent Mark Sullivan.” 

You smile thinly and introduce yourself. “So, I take it you’ve just received an assignment?”

He laughs, making an attempt at charm. “Alright. You’re a profiler,” he says with confidence. “What gave me away?” It’s a challenge.

It’s also a long shot. A really really long shot. 

There were plenty of people in the vicinity that would be reeled in by his warm smile and handsome jawline, but your fine man (currently sprawled back in his chair with an arm on the back of the chair and a hand over his mouth to cover his smile) stands head and shoulders above the rest, sometimes literally. 

“Well,” you start, making a show of eyeing him from head to toe, “Your papers are still in your pocket and you’ve left your ID tag on, against academy and bureau regulations.” 

He startles and snatches it off his lapel, tucking it into his pocket. 

With a little smile, you soothe his embarrassment - it’s a play only designed to endear yourself to him. “It tells me you’re proud, excited. I felt the same way when I received my assignment and credentials. It’s a significant accomplishment.”

You can’t quite tell in the irregular darkness in the room, but he looks almost like he’s blushing. “Thanks.” He collects himself after a moment, putting his bravado back on. 

Your eyes flicker to Hotch once, twice. He’s still watchful. Amused. 

“So, I was lucky enough to see your lectures with the BAU and I must say...it’s impressive.” 

He says that like it’s some kind of validation. 

I need validation from this clown like I need a hole in the head. 

“Thanks. I’m usually rather modest, but I think it’s alright to say the BAU is a very fine unit.” If you’re honest, you’re talking about one particular unit chief’s...um...unit, specifically, but that’s neither here nor there.

He smirks. “What would you say if I told you I got a placement on one of the BAU teams?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Really? That’s quite the accomplishment.” A pair of arms wind around you and a kiss is pressed to your temple. 

It would also be a lie.

You smile and flip in Aaron’s arms, completely ignoring poor Mark. “I was just getting you a drink,” you explain, gesturing vaguely to the bar behind you. 

“I see. Did you get me -”

“Double scotch, neat, aged at least fifteen years? Yes, sir.” 

He smiles. “You know me so well.” 

“I sure do.” You pull him down by his tie and plant a firm kiss on his lips and shove him off with a smile. “Go. Sit. I’ve got it.” 

You turn back to Mark with a breathless sort of laugh. Aaron always makes you feel a little flushed and you’re happy to play it up for the benefit of the moment. “Sorry about that.” 

Mark, you find, is reconsidering his strategy. His face, while still outwardly warm, harbors a kind of calculated look to it that would almost be funny if you weren’t so eager to see what kind of trick he’d pull next. “So, Hotchner?”

“What about him?”

Mark shrugs. “I dunno. Doesn’t he have a kid?”

You nod. “Yep.” 

“And he’s a widower, right?”

“Yes.” 

Mark laughs a little. “Wouldn’t it be kinda nice to, I dunno, have some fun for a little while?”

You frown at him, and your drink arrives at the hands of the frazzled bartender. You pull the fifty from your sleeve and pass it to him with a smile. After a sip, you ask. “What do you mean?”

“It seems like a lot to take on, you know?” He backpedals upon seeing your squint. “I mean, I’m sure he’s a great guy, but wouldn’t it be nice to have someone...I dunno -” He restores his confidence and leans on the bar. Again, his moves would probably work on someone else, but you were a lost cause. “- easier?”

Aaron’s scotch arrives. You pick it up in your free hand and shrug somewhat breezily. “Maybe.” 

You brush past him, leaving Mark a little confused and a bit stunned. When you return to the table after much jostling, you take a seat right on Aaron’s lap and pass him his drink, reclining in his arms. Scanning over the crowd, Mark’s frowning face sticks out like a sore thumb and you try not to look too smug. 

Other than Rossi, the rest of the team is already out on the dance floor, so you know Aaron doesn’t mind having you close. 

He sets his scotch down and wraps his arms around you kissing the underside of your jaw. You lean into his touch and smile. 

There’s nothing easier than this. 

+++

There’s something a bit sulky about Aaron when you settle next to him in bed. You squint at him, looking for his eyes as they follow the loose pattern on the bedspread. 

“Hey.” You bump his shoulder with yours. “What’s on your mind?” 

He shakes his head a little, still not meeting your eyes. “Nothing. Just thinking.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you throw the covers off and sling a leg over him, straddling his thighs. You tap your palms on his pecs on-beat with your begging. “Come on. Tell me tell me tell me tell -”

“Jesus, alright!” He cuts you off with two hands over yours, his thumbs running fondly over your knuckles. “I just…” He huffs, already a little frustrated with himself for feeling put out. 

You slide your hands out from underneath his, running up over his collarbones and shoulders to find the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I couldn’t help but overhear…”

You let all your breath out in a huff. “Oh, Aaron. He’s a stupid NAT who knows the only way to come after you is to come after your history.” You kiss his cheek and tuck into him. “He was trying to be a big-dick boy and it didn’t pay off for him.” 

There’s a halfhearted laugh from underneath you, and his hands wander across your back. “He is right, though. It would be easi-”

“If you say ‘easier,’ Aaron Hotchner, I’m going to lose my shit.” 

He sighs, and you pull back, tipping his chin up with a finger. 

“Hey. I love Jack. He is not an added weight in my life. He does not make my life harder in any way. Your son,” you emphasize with taps on his lips, “is the light of my life and I wouldn’t ever want to be without him.” 

Aaron’s eyes get a little misty. For his sake, you ignore it and continue. 

“I never feel like a replacement for Haley. I’ve never once minded leaving room for her in our lives because she’s my friend and I love her and I love you. I loved you before we lost her and I’ve loved you long after. This baggage keeps my feet firmly planted on the ground.” 

Aaron takes a deep breath, and his voice has the smallest of wavers when he speaks. Before he even starts, you concede to let him share what he’s feeling, if only to rebut it. “But you could - you could have so much. You could have someone ten or fifteen years younger who - I don’t know - could do things with you that thirty-somethings do. You wouldn’t have to spend your weekends at soccer games or your evenings rubbing Icy Hot on my bad knee or dealing with me on rough pain days or raising your voice because I can’t hear shit on my right side.” 

He shakes his head, and you brush the tears that fall with your thumbs. “You could have - You deserve, so much more...” The rest of his words go unspoken, but you hear them anyway. 

You deserve so much more than me.

Your eyes sting and you blink rapidly, letting your tears wet your lashes. Leaning forward, you kiss away his remaining tears, shifting your weight to wrap your legs around his waist and get as close as you can. 

With your head on his left shoulder, you whisper, “Aaron, I don’t want someone ten or fifteen years younger. I don’t care what I’m doing on my evenings and weekends because I get to spend them with you.” 

You pause for a moment. “And, I don’t need boys. I’m done with boys.” 

You lean back, looking him square in the eye, or at least trying to. “I have a man who has silver in his hair because he worries and is in his mid-forties and it doesn’t fucking matter. I have a man who is the subject of so many crushes and fantasies at the academy it makes me want to vomit.” You laugh a little at your own joke, but he’s still focused on the seam of your shirt at your collar. Changing gears, you bring your hands to the sides of his neck, feeling his pulse jump under your thumbs.

“I have no need for boys because I have a man who treats me with kindness and respect. A man who is thoughtful, who isn’t afraid of himself. A man who knows himself, who loves his son, who invited me into his life when he didn’t have to because he’s brave.”

A couple more tears fall down your cheeks and you frame his face with your hands. “You love better and more courageously than anyone I have ever known.” 

You sniffle a little. “Aaron, honey...I love you. I wouldn’t want anything else, or anyone else, for my life, to be my partner, my best friend, the person I love. Odds have it that you’ll be my husband and the father of any other kids we might acquire and that we’ll grow even older and grayer together.” 

You let a little facetious smirk cross your lips. “And I’d like you to look at me and tell me I’d be happy with some dickhead named Mark with a business degree who wears shoes well-outside his pay grade.” 

That does it. 

Aaron smiles and pulls you to him with a hand at the back of your head. Your lips meet and you can taste the saltwater, but it doesn’t matter. 

He pulls back to look at you, and he really looks at you. His eyes roam hungrily over your face as if trying to memorize every line and curve and lash and budding wrinkle he finds there. 

You simply melt in the dark brown of his eyes, watching him take his time. 

Even then, as you expected, there is some doubt - not in you, of course, but in him. “Really?”

“Really.” You hold up your fist between your faces, pinky extended. “Pinky promise.” 

He smiles a little and links your pinkies together, twisting your hands to kiss your knuckles. Your hands drop into your lap and another little smile crosses your face. 

“What?” He asks.

You shrug. “I’m also thinking about how thirty-something-year-old boys absolutely suck in bed. I can pretty much guarantee that you’re better at - well, just about everything.” 

He closes his eyes and smiles, looking the picture of a happy house cat in the sun. You draw closer, running your nose along his. He leans toward you and captures your lips again. 

The next few hours? Don’t worry. They’re spent proving your point.  

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile  @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @spencerelds @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou

[jordanstrophe]

A Cinnamon Bun too Pure for this World, part 4

The Dough is Rising~ A flashback

CW: Whump, loss of parents implied, abusive family member, multiple stabbing, hand whump, heist and robbery implied, conditioned whumpee, locked in a closet and Nathen destroying all of Cin’s hope and dreams. 

Masterlist

*flashback chapter with Nathen* 

Cin sat gripping the chair legs with his head down, tears dripped down his face into his lap.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” A woman said. He didn’t respond, he just watched the pool of tears in his jeans grow larger and larger with every drip. 

“It says here you don’t have any surviving immediate relatives. You’re 16, so...” She trailed off. A man quickly approached, whispering to her. She immediately perked up as she clapped her hands in front of her face, making Cin flinch.

“Wonderful news! It seems you have a very distant uncle-in-law! They’ll be informed of the car crash and we’ll let them know about your circumstance.” She said.

‘I have an uncle?’ Cin thought to himself. He never had any other family aside from his parents. A glimmer of hope washed over him.

-

Cin nervously stood by the social worker by the doorway. She was a very nice lady, he practically glued himself to her side like a lost duckling. He almost fell asleep against her hip until he heard a car pull up. He instantly perked up, watching a tall man with messy dark hair, a black leather jacket and ragged jeans climb from his car. The man glanced over at him, eyeing him up and down. Cin’s gut told him there was something wrong, but he shooed the feelings away. This man was nice enough to take him in! He must be sooo kind! Especially since they weren’t *technically* related...

Cin gave him a small smile and a wave when he approached. His eyes darted down to him, as he smiled back! He crouched until he was level with him.

“Hi there, you must be Cin. I’m Nathen” He gave him a warm smile.

-

“What do you mean I’m not going to school?” Cin asked, almost panicked. 

“Homeschool Cin. You’re still doing school.” He sighed.

“Then who’s going to teach me?” He cocked his head to the side.

“I am, silly.” Nathen shook his head. 

Cin just assumed he knew best. He had moved to another state, he had lost his family, and now his friends. But at least he had Nathen! He just got very lonely sometimes. Nathen started working, disappearing for days, but he would always show up with food and clothes for him. He never talked about his work and when Cin asked he would get defensive, sometimes angry, so Cin just decided to be quiet. He would keep the house clean and cook whatever he brought home.

-

“Nathen!” Cin called excitedly. He twirled around while holding something behind his back. “What.” Nathen mumbled under his breath, eyes glued to a computer screen he always kept tilted away.

“I found something I’m interested in!” He beamed, pulling out a pamphlet behind his back and proudly showing it to him.

“That’s nice.” He mumbled.

“You’re not even looking.” He waved the pamphlet to try and mimic those noodle mascots he saw across the street.

Nathen sighed as he pushed his glasses up, squinting. “College?” He raised an eyebrow. Cin nodded his head enthusiastically. “It’s a really nice college! It’s affordable, and it has a social worker degree!” 

Nathen laughed. He laughed and laughed until he was wiping tears from his eyes. “College? Social worker? Why are you thinking about that stuff?”

“Because I’m 18 now! I just thought-” “-You thought what? I could afford college for you? I’m already working hard enough to keep you fed and taken care of.”

“But I-... I can get a job! I can help!” He pleaded. Nathen opened his mouth to shut him down, but paused. His eyes darted from him, to the computer as a smirk spread across his face.

“Alright. You can get a job.” He shrugged.

“Really! Thank you thank you thank you-!”  “-But! You’ll be working with me and my group. It’ll be easy, even someone like you could do it.” He smirked. Cin beamed even more with those words. He wouldn’t be lonely anymore! And he got to work with his wonderful guardian! This would be the best job ever!

-

“Cin, this is Charlotte and Jackson.” Nathen introduced. 

“Nathen! Why didn’t you tell me he was adorable?!” Charlotte shrieked, pinching Cin’s cheeks with her long sharp black nails. The touch wasn’t comforting in the slightest, but he was enjoying the attention. 

“Aren’t you just as cute as a button! Nathen, we could use him as a distraction instead! I know, I’m a fine distraction, but why don’t we let the new kid in?” She smiled, flipping her long dark hair dramatically. 

“Cin needs an easy job, he’s terrible at socializing.” He scoffed. Cin blushed, It wasn’t his fault he never left the house. He used to try and get out a lot, but Nathen would give him a slap on the wrist and drag him back home every time.

“Besides, wouldn’t want him to take your spotlight.” He smirked. “What are we doing?” Cin asked. The group grew painfully silent.

“You didn’t even tell him?” James spat. 

“He doesn’t need to know, he has the easy job, remember?” They fell silent again. “If the kid talks, I’m ratting you all out.” He shook his head. “He’s not going to rat us out! He’s going to do whatever I tell him.” Nathen cranked his head to face Cin, his eyes burning with a twisted expression. “Right?”

“Right!” Cin squeaked. He had no idea what was going on, but he would be useful! Just watch him. Nathen stuffed a radio and a keycard in his hands and walked him over to a backdoor of an odd looking shop. 

“When you hear my voice on the radio, you’re going to swipe the card right there and open the door, mmkay?” He asked.

“Mmkay!.... Wait, is that it?”

“Yep! That’s allll you have to do. You can’t mess it up.” He smiled. The group quickly disappeared as Cin was left standing alone by the door. He held the radio in both hands staring at it waiting for the order. 

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes passed.

Thirty minutes passed.

Cin was still staring intensely at the radio. By the hour, he had slumped against the door, lightly tapping his head against it barely clutching the radio in his fingertips. Where were they? Did they forget about him? 

The radio crackled as Cin jumped, losing his grip on the radio as he juggled it in the air a bit.

“OPEN THE DOOR! *Crackle* DO IT NOW!” He heard Nathen bark. Cin stared at the radio with fascination before snapping out of it, swiping the card. He dug his heels in the gravel as he heaved the door open as out bolted Nathen and James carrying two bags over their shoulder.

“Let’s go let’s go! Move it!” He shouted, grabbing Cin’s arm and dragging him along. Cin had no idea what was going on, but he happily ran behind Nathen like they were playing some fun game. James slammed the door open as they tossed the bags in, Nathen grabbed Cin’s arm and pushed him in as they hit the gas.

“Wait! Where’s Charlotte!?” James called, looking back.

“We don’t have time, hit it!”

“We can’t just leave her! What if she got caught!”

“Then she gets caught! That’s on her!” 

Cin stayed silent as he sat on the floor of the van. “Did… Did I do good?” He asked with desperation in his voice. All he wanted was a hint of approval from someone. Nathen looked back as his hand ruffled his hair. “Yeah, you did good.” He smiled. Cin beamed with pure joy. He had no idea what happened, or what he even did, but it made Nathen happy, so Cin was too.

Time went on and Nathen asked him to do similar things. Open this door, press this button, call us on the radio if you see anyone, small innocent things. Each time they would return with something, bags, a box or expensive looking things. Cin never questioned anything, because it was Nathen; the person he relied on. 

They person he was nothing without.

-Years passed. Cin was 21 now.

“You said if I helped out you would let me go to college! Please, I really want to go!” He begged. Nathen was twisted with rage, he had no energy nor patience to put up with him today.

“I’m so sick and tired of you filling my ears with college trash! You’re helping us, Cin. We can’t do the big jobs without you! After all I’ve done for you, this is the least you can do to pay me back!” He hissed. Cin groaned with frustration as he bolted from the room, slamming the door behind him as he ran down the street. Nathen didn’t even try to stop him, he knew he would be back. Where would he even go? He had nothing without him.

It started raining, Cin held his arms as he walked cringing down the sidewalk as the cold rain showered. He stopped when he saw a bus stop with a man in ragged clothes huddled under the overhang. They both looked at each other, both looking rather lost. The man had messy hair and a long grey beard, dressed in torn clothes with a bag at his feet filled with random things. 

“Are you okay?” Cin asked, sniffling.

“Pff, I should be asking you that.” The man said. Cin realized half the liquid on his face was tears as he quickly wiped his face. 

The man slid to the side of the bench, making room for him as Cin nervously sat next to him.

“What’s bothering you?” The man asked.

“I… Nathen told me I’m not allowed to talk to strangers…” Cin muttered.

“Not allowed? You look like an adult to me. Although I will say, this is some solid advice from this Nathen boy.” The man chuckled. “I’m David, there, I’m not a stranger anymore.” He smiled. “Cin.” He smiled back. 

“I just… I really wanted to go to college. My guardian won’t let me go, even thought I worked for it! I don’t understand why.” He murmured. The man’s eyes fell sad as he sighed.

“I’m sorry to hear that young man. But if you worked your fair share, you have every right to get a little demanding.” He chuckled. “Hmm? Demanding?’” Cin asked. “Yeah! Put your foot down! Tell him, ‘I worked hard, and I deserve it!” 

Cin gasped as he held his hands over his mouth. “I’m allowed to say that!?” He gasped. “Of course you can! You’re an adult! You get to make decisions for yourself.” He smiled. Cin’s eyes darted to the ground as if he had just made a realization. “I can… Make decisions? For myself?”  

“That’s right!” He smiled. 

“I never realized I could do that!” He gasped, his mind running wild. “What about you? Why are you sad?” He asked. 

“Bah, don’t worry about an old man like me.” He waved.

“No! That’s not fair! It’s your turn now!” He demanded. “Alright! Alright.” He chuckled, raising his hands in defeat. “You’re getting good at this demanding thing, I’ll give you that.” He smiled.  “I lost my home last year. There was a job offer today and I cleaned myself up as best as I could and shot my shot! Well, I didn’t get the job and I guess I’m a little down about it.” He sighed, slumping down on the bench. 

“You’re homeless? Then how do you live? Where do you eat?” He asked. He couldn’t quite fathom his lifestyle. 

“I don’t some nights.” He sighed. Cin’s face went pale. “Did you get something today?” He asked. “.. Yes.” He coughed. 

“Hmmm? Are you suuure?” Cin eyed. The man laughed as he crossed his arms with guilt. “Wait here!” Cin ordered. The man froze awkwardly as he watched Cin bolting off into a nearby store. He returned a couple minutes later with a bag in hand, filled with a stash of fresh food. Nathen had given him a couple of pocket change just to satisfy him for a little bit, but he never got a chance to spend it.

“No, sweetie, you need to save that for your education.”

“No! I insist. Hearing your story made me appreciate what I have more! I’ll be fine regardless if I give this to you or not. But it’ll mean a lot to you, won’t it?” He smiled. 

The man stared at him for a moment before smiling, accepting the gift. “You’re a very kind young man. Don’t ever let anyone take that away from you.” 

Cin giggled before starting to run off. “Thank you for the advice! I think I’m going to take it!” He waved behind his shoulder as he sprinted home with a wave of confidence. 

He burst through the door, dripping wet as he announced “I worked hard, and I deserve it!” He shouted.

“Huh?” Nathen asked, closing the laptop. 

“I-... I worked hard…” He trailed off. “And I deserve it, right? The college…” His confidence was slowly killed as Nathen rose to his height. “Where did you get those words from? Inspirational quotes from a car bumper?’” He scoffed. “N-no. A nice man.” He muttered.

“A nice what?” His eyes grew wide. “Cin! I told you you’re not allowed to talk to anyone!” He shouted. “But he was nice! And he was also right. I can’t stay here forever Nathen! I appreciate everything you did for me, but It’s time I… I made a decision for myself, and this is it.” He muttered.

“Oh, so the pup grew some fangs, hmm? That’s something I never expected.” He taunted. He draped himself into a chair, crossing his arms and legs. “I’ll tell you what, Cin. You help us with one more job, and you can go.” He said.

Cin’s eyes lit up like stars as he jumped up and down “Thank you thank you thank you!” He cheered. Nathen just sat thinking to himself with a twisted smile creeping across his face.

-

“You wanna what now?” Charlotte gasped. “Listen here, I got arrested last time because I was the distraction. We had to lose some of that money we stole to bail me out! You’re so lucky I didn’t rat you all out.” She crossed her arms.

“Yeah yeah, you won’t be the distraction this time. Cin is.” Nathen smirked.

“What? Nathen, he’ll get caught for sure.. “-No no! He’ll be fine. I got a plan.” 

Cin looked nervous, twisting his fingers as Nathen stood him next to a tree outside an expensive looking shop. “Nathen? I don’t understand, what are we even doing?” Cin murmured.  “Oh come now, don’t be shy! You’re just a distraction, so be you’re cute little helpless self, mmkay?” He smiled.

“Wha-...”

Nathen pulled out a pocket knife, placing the back of Cin’s hand to the tree as he jabbed the knife all the way through, pinning him to the tree. James' eyes went wide, Charlotte gasped, Nathen smiled, as Cin screamed…

Blood fell down his arm dripping off his elbow as he was stuck frozen in shock. His breathing spiked as he couldn’t stop screaming. The pressure and sharp pain imbedded into his hand pulsing with every twitch and quiver. 

He blinked his eyes open to see he was alone, the sound of pounding footsteps approaching as a man dressed in uniform ran up to him.

“Hey! Are you-” His voice cut off at the sight of the knife pinning the man to the tree. Cin was hyperventilating as he tried to control his shaking. The man called an ambulance and soon, there was a small crowd of people who worked in the store trying to help keep him calm. 

“How did this happen?” Someone asked.

Cin tried to answer, but he couldn’t find the words. His mind was bewildered into terror and confusion. In the end, he never spoke a word. An ambulance came as they carefully removed the knife, giving him a towel to put pressure on the wound. Nathen miraculously appeared with a terrified expression.

“CIN! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! What happened?” Nathen gasped, grabbing his shoulders. Before he could try to choke out a word, Nathen was already speaking over him talking to the paramedics.

“Thank you so much for helping him! He’s my little baby nephew, he ran off on me and I’ve been looking everywhere worried sick!” He cried. Cin fell silent with wide blank eyes. Nathen assured he didn’t need the ambulance, he was going to drive him to the hospital himself, because he must be so scared. A doctor said to contact the police as soon as he arrived at the hospital, as Nathen assured them he would.

Instead, he drove him home. Countless bags were filling the bag seat of the car that weren't there before. Cin was then dragged home by his arm and thrown onto the floor sobbing. 

‘W-why!! Why did y-you do that?” He sobbed, clutching his bleeding hand. 

“Because, it was for your own good. Cin, just look at you.” He said, crouching down as he tried to crawl away. “But y-you did s-so much to me!” He shouted.

Nathen took his chin as he forced him to look up, thumbing away a tear. “For you. I did so much for you, Cin. Why can’t you see that? You were sick, sick with all these fantasies about leaving. You really think you can make it out there? All by yourself? Without me? I’m the only one who ever loved you, who took care of you. You owe me everything.” He hissed, taking his hand. “And now?” He muttered, pulling out a knife. In a second, he was on top of him pinning his hand to the floor. Nathen used one knee to pin his chest, another pinning his right hand, with his free hand holding his wrists to the floor over his head.

“And now, I can do…” He muttered, plunging the knife into his palm next to the first cut. 

“Whatever” 

Stab 

“I like to you.”

 Stab 

He drove the knife into his left palm over and over again. Cin cried and begged the entire time with barely any air left in his lungs, squirming to try and elude his attacks. Blood fell into the cracks of the floorboards beneath them, eventually, Cin was lying motionlessly on the floor. Four, inch long marks were through his hand as he was dragged over to the closet and thrown in. 

“There’s nothing you can do to pay me back, Cin. So you can stay right here where you belong and bleed until you become a grateful little brat.” He spat, slamming the closet door.

Cin collapsed his back against the wall clutching his hand. He was left to twitch and whimper the entire night until he learned to be grateful to who he was indebted to… Until he learned his place. 

He was… The only one…. Who cared about him… After all.

“Cin?” Richard asked, sliding the closet door open. Cin was on the floor nicely tucked into the corner with his hair pressed against the wall. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. Cin’s left hand was twitching with phantom pain as he silently nodded his head. “Why are you  in here?” He asked. 

Cin’s eyes darted around a little bit. “It’s comfortable here...” He quietly murmured. 

“It’s comfortable out here too though. Don’t you want to rest on the bed?” He asked. Cin glanced up at him with a skeptical look, tilting his head to the side. “I’m... I’m fine here...” Richard stared down with a concerned expression. Cin looked at him like he was expecting praise for stuffing himself in the closet. 

Richard crawled into the closet and sat next to him, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes so he could make eye contact. “Were you thinking about him?” Richard asked. Cin guiltily nodded, pressing his nose into the corner in an attempt to hide. “No no, it’s alright. He can’t hurt you anymore, okay?” Richard soothed. He didn’t understand where Cin went mentally when he was like this, stuck in his conditioned responses when he got scared or confused. 

Which unfortunately, was all the time. 

His left hand would twitch when he would respond with his conditioning. Hiding in the closet was apparently a response when he was scared. Richard was slowly picking up on things that were triggers as he would try to avoid them, but they were difficult to root out. 

“Why don’t we get comfortable on the couch and watch a movie with popcorn?” Richard asked. He peeked an eye out at the mention of popcorn. After much reassurance and comfort, Cin eventually found himself on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn in his lap with a small smile.

@milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101  @sillypizzazineoperator @as-a-matter-of-whump @alien-octopus @unicornscotty  @yesthisiswhump

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ  Thank you for reading!

[jalapeno-princess]

“Babe, what are you doing?” You finished folding the top you were currently holding and placed it in to your suitcase before turning towards your boyfriend and observing the look of genuine curiosity on his face. Mark had just arrived home after his shift at the hospital; you had a feeling he must have been exhausted and you couldn’t blame him.

Since a few of his colleagues either called in sick or went on vacation this past week, he’s been working overtime and it was obvious the extra hours were taking a toll on his mental and physical health. But he was never one to complain and he sincerely loved being a nurse. Working in the medical field was one of the more tiresome occupations and so you understood that all he probably wanted to do was fall asleep. It was only 8:30 P.M., however, he would always go to bed as soon as he got home from work no matter what time it was.

Seeing you on the ground right outside of your closet, packing multiple pairs of your clothes away probably confused the hell out of him and he was most definitely not tired at all anymore. Sure, he came home wanting nothing more than to take a quick shower and go straight to bed with you wrapped tightly in his embrace, but now he had other plans.

“Packing.” He began to walk closer to where you were sitting and took his place next to you, his dumbfounded expression didn’t falter nor did it waver. You had to stifle back a laugh; you were confident he had an idea as to what you were doing, so you were well aware that your response wasn’t going to amuse him in any way.

“I can see that. Packing for what?”

“Girl’s trip.” Once you admitted your plans and the reason behind your packing, his look of confusion quickly turned in to that of a frown.

“I don’t remember us making plans to go somewhere. With who? Where are we going?”

“Not we Mark. Just Sophia, Riley, Julia and I.”

“Wait, what? Why? When? Where are you going? Why didn’t you tell me?” As much as you wanted to continue your packing, seeing his broken expression as he hesitantly reached for your clothes; as if he wanted to get you to stop tugged all but gently on your heartstrings.

“I told you a couple of days ago. Right after we finished—you know—“

“You mean to tell me, that you told me you planned on going on a trip with your friends after we finished making love? My head was obviously somewhere else—I was too busy in between your pretty thighs to even care about anything else but this beautiful body of yours—you did this on purpose babe. It’s as if you knew I would try to prevent you from going. I mean, you have every right to go and I’m not the kind of boyfriend to hold you back from having your fun and spending time with your friends, but any minute spent away from you feels like a fucking eternity and it’s sucks. I’m happiest whenever I’m with you and I’m sure you know it by now. No matter how shitty my day is at work, I put up with whatever life throws at me because I know I’m coming home to you. Now you’re leaving me all by myself for God knows how long—what am I going to do without you?”

When he first found you folding your clothes and sorting out your luggage, you found his curiosity extremely adorable. You expected this kind of reaction out of him; that’s just who Mark was. For someone who was only a few years away from reaching thirty, he could be such a big baby sometimes. However, that was a trait of your boyfriend’s that you admired the most about him. He was very sensitive; but that’s because he had one of the biggest hearts that anyone could own and he had a small amount of separation anxiety when it came to you.

It never bothered you though, it just showed that he loved and cared about you with his entire being. That information alone never failed to pull on your heartstrings. Seeing him so fragile right now; probably exhausted beyond belief after a long day yet on the verge of tears at the idea of being alone for a little while made you feel terrible. In the three years of your relationship, you never spent more than three days without each other. Wherever you went, Mark followed and vice versa. If you went to visit your family back home, he was right there next to you. If he went with his friends to an arcade, you would tag along even if gaming wasn’t your forte. A lot of your friends would jokingly refer to you and your boyfriend as magnets. The two of you stuck together like glue. You were never not together other than when either of you were at work.

Out of instinct and guilt for not informing him more about your plans, you crawled over to him and sat on his lap; wrapping your arms around his neck and placed a soft kiss on his jaw. He placed his face in the valley of your breasts and released a soft sigh. Mark was a firm believer in actions speaking louder than words. He would shower you with his love on a daily basis—he did almost every single thing for you. He loved being able to help you and support you in any way he possibly could. If you were tired from taking on more hours at your job; he would cook dinner of the both of you. He would also wash the dishes, do the laundry, sweep and mop your apartment and sometimes he would even prepare breakfast for you and pack your lunches.

Your boyfriend was just a very thoughtful and considerate human being. He was the definition of a gentleman and even if he would remind you that he loved you at least five times a day, you could tell by his many sacrifices; you were his entire world. Hearing him confess how bothered the news of the trip made him only caused you to regret not putting more thought in to your decision. What started off as a joke just to see what kind of reaction you would illicit out of him was now something so much bigger; something that could have been prevented.

“It’s only a week Mark—“

“A week? An entire week? Seriously y/n? How long have you been planning this for and why do you seem so okay with the thought of being away from me?”

“Well, I was actually the last one to know. The girls didn’t tell me until the same night I told you. They just assumed I wasn’t going to go because they all know I don’t want to go anywhere you aren’t. God, we sound so pathetic. Sophia is joining the peace core in July, so she wants to spend as much time with us before she has to go away for two years. I wouldn’t go if that wasn’t the reason why they planned this entire trip. Jackson and Jinyoung seemed to take the news perfectly fine and I’ve heard that they are planning a trip of their own. I’m surprised that they didn’t reach out to you—“

“That’s because unlike them, I’m so far up your ass that I probably wouldn’t have any fun at all and it would be a waste of time and money if I were just moping the entire vacation. Plus, I don’t think I’d want to go with them anyway. The last time we went somewhere together, we almost got kicked out of a karaoke bar because Jackson’s dumb ass was being too loud. Humph, I’m really going to miss you. Damnit, what did you do to me? I never used to be this sappy before but here I am acting like it’s the end of the world since my girlfriend is going somewhere; probably going to have the time of her life with her friends while I do nothing but sit here like a loser until she gets back.”

You giggled softly at his words and beamed up at him; cupping his cheek with your palm before placing a few sweet kisses on his lips.

“We’re driving to Vegas—and luckily they already decided that it’s Riley whose in charge of getting us there so I will make sure to call you and text you whenever I get the chance. Trust me, I already tried to hint towards inviting you but they were quick to disagree. No boys on this trip—“

He pouted frustratingly once you said those words and wrapped his arms even tired around your sides. “Why not? I’m the best boyfriend out of our friend group let’s be honest here baby. The girls like me the most. Jackson talks too much and Jinyoung’s a petty asshole. I’m the quiet, mysterious and lighthearted boyfriend. I promise, you won’t even know that I’m there.”

You grazed your thumb against his cheek; trying your best to stifle back a laugh at his attempts to get you to reconsider. You were confident in the love your boyfriend had for you, but you weren’t sure how far he was willing to go in order to be with you at all times.

“Babe—“

“Fine, fine whatever. Go have your fun, you deserve it for all the hard work you had to suffer through in the last few weeks. But once you’re done putting away all your necessities, I want you on all fours. I need to fuck you tonight—no love making. I’m not going easy on you at all. I’m going to make sure your pussy is numb and your legs are jello once I’m done with you. Remember, five photos a day—make it ten. Two of the scenery, three of your gorgeous face I can never seem to take my eyes off of and five nudes. Oh, and I expect gifts. I want one of those five keychains and maybe a shirt that says I left my poor boyfriend home alone so that I could lose all my money playing slot machines—“

A breathy groan fell from his pretty lips as you elbowed him in his rib cage as your way to get him to stop talking. He was guilt tripping you and you’ve been with Mark long enough to know why he would do all that he did. You were also now very horny. It never failed to make you smile at an idiot knowing how soft spoken he was and how everyone around Mark assumed he must have been such a sweet, introverted guy. If only everyone knew just how much of a dominant, rough, animalistic and forceful man he was in the bedroom.

“That sounds like a great plan. Trust me my love, I’m going to miss you just as much as you’ll miss me. Before we do anything though, what are you going to do while I’m gone?”

“Wish I was a girl. Now, take off your clothes and let me hit it from the back. Maybe I can fuck you so hard you won’t be able to move and I’ll have to nurse you back to health. Preferably with my dick.”

[schrijverr]

And finally see what it means to be living

Eliot’s life, from his teen years to the disillusionment of the military through the soulless wetwork all the way to his team, seen through his connection to the song Fast Carby Tracy Chapman.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed any

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eliot remembered being a teen, lying on the grass in the middle of the night, having snuck out with a radio with as excuse to his father that he was with a lady friend. That was if he even cared to ask, which was never the case, but just to be safe.

He remembered one night in particular, the one that made him come back out there with the radio each night, hoping they would play the song he wished to hear most as he lay under the galaxy, wishing he was far away, among the stars.

It had been a bright night with clear skies, a full moon and a million stars in the sky. He was lying on his blanket, some radio station played that he tuned out most of the time. Then the radio announcer had said: “Next up is Fast Carby Tracy Chapman, gotta warn y’all it’s one for the heart.” And somehow it had gotten his attention and he’d listened.

He’d listened, yet somehow he’d felt heard.

Right there on the radio had been someone, who was stuck in a town as well, with a shit father, who wanted nothing more than to live and get out.

While he had nobody but himself to get him out of there, the song gave him hope. He hadn’t heard the full lyrics, but enough to hit home. The radio announcer had been right when he’d said it was one for the heart.

You got a fast car And I got a plan to get us out of here I been working at the convenience store Managed to save just a little bit of money We won't have to drive too far Just 'cross the border and into the city You and I can both get jobs And finally see what it means to be living

He found himself humming the song, singing the second verse under his breath the next day, letting the feeling of the song build up in his chest and carry him through the day as plans of getting away swirled in his mind.

Even now he knew that his best out was either a sports scholarship or the military and he wasn’t a college man. He also knew that his father would never let him join, so he’d have to wait until he was eighteen before flying away.

While he might not have a fast car, he and a few of his buddies had boosted one often enough that he could find one when the time came, he just had to get there first. Just until he was eighteen, then he was out of there and far away, for now he would just work at the hardware store and save the money to get out of here.

Anxiously, he had waited until he could sneak out again after that night, tuning into the same radio station, hoping it would be played again.

They didn’t play the song the first night, nor the one after that, but the third night they did. He was sitting next to the radio, armed with a tape recorder that he smashed on the moment the announcer introduced the song.

Afterwards, he played the song so often on his Walkman that the tape wore down until he had to record it onto a new one.

The late nights under the stars, alone with his dreams, stayed. He still played the radio on the same station that had first played Fast Car, but he often found himself listening to the tape, repeating it until he had enough peace to rest.

His mind got stuck on the first part of the song after a while:

You got a fast car I want a ticket to anywhere Maybe we make a deal Maybe together we can get somewhere Any place is better Starting from zero got nothing to lose Maybe we'll make something But me myself I got nothing to prove

He repeated the words to himself, alone in his room or in the safety in his mind whenever the world got too much. Well, his dad got too much.

Then he would just grit his teeth and tell himself that he had nothing to prove and that any place would be better, he just had to go somewhere. Didn’t matter that he started at zero, just like her, he would live.

Just a year more then he’d be eighteen.

Eliot had never belonged in that small stuffy town, no matter how well he played his part. He was never that into football or the girls at the school. He went through the motions, but wasn’t built for settling down, for taking over the store and staying there forever.

For a while he thought that Aimee got that, that she got him and that they would achieve the dream together and get away from the town where everyone knew everyone and the only good thing were the horses.

She was also done with some of the people at school, though she went to church and she loved the horses and maybe he should have thought more about it when he mentioned leaving and she stayed quiet, but he wanted to get out so bad that he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to stay.

So, slowly he started to picture them, in a car – maybe even one he’d bought – driving on the highway, the town disappearing the rear view mirror as they went off to see what it meant to be living.

It was a dream that got crushed.

Aimee wanted him to stay, tried to talk of the horses and what they could built and he’d just listened dumbly and nodded.

Faintly he heard himself making her a promise about coming back then and giving her the ring he’d bought for her birthday, hoping to make it real in a church that was not run by the same Father he’d been forced to confess his sins to since he was a boy.

And he wondered how he had ended up there when he had always told her about his dream of being far away.

But then again, maybe he hadn’t told her. Maybe to her, he was complaining about the town just like she did, like everyone did. Maybe in her mind she had built a future like he had, just on a different set, cast in different rolls. Maybe neither had said enough.

He snuck out again that night and laid in the field, his field. He lay on the wet grass and stared at the constellations he knew so well, wondering why the endless sky suddenly seemed less a place of escape and just another facet of his stupid town where everyone but him seemed to want to stay.

His mind was just not comprehending how anyone couldn't see there was so much more than what was around them. That there was more than church on Sunday, the footballs games, the potlucks or the gossip that had been recycled a thousand times.

On the tape Tracy Chapman sang:

You got a fast car But is it fast enough so we can fly away We gotta make a decision We leave tonight or live and die this way

He’d heard the lyrics a million times, but that night it was those lyrics that hit him in the heart, more than it usually did.

Aimee was a fool. He had a fast car, he could get out, fly away, just a few more days and he’d be gone. If she didn’t want to come that was her decision and that was fine, but it didn’t have to be Eliot’s. He wouldn’t remain here.

He would not.

‘Weleave tonight or live and die this way’ that’s what Tracy sung and he’d already known on that night when he’d first heard the song that he would be driving off alone. He had tricked himself into thinking Aimee would come, but there had never been a we. Not for Eliot.

So on the night of his eighteenth birthday, he told his dad he was enlisting and fought with him, trying not to think of the lyrics ‘somebody’s got to take care of him,’ because even Tracy had seen she’d deserved better.

Still, even after he packed the last of his stuff, he swung by Aimee, asking her again, more urgent, more permanent, before promising he’d back for her. In case she needed him or if she’d changed her mind.

Then he was gone, off into the sunset. And as he tore down the highway, a tune blasted out of the radio.

I remember we were driving driving in your car The speed so fast I felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder And I had a feeling that I belonged And I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

And his foot on the gas peddle was intoxicating. He was going so fast that it was dangerous, but he didn’t care. He was riding to his future, to far off places and adventures. He was going to be someone.

That idea lasted approximately the ten weeks it took to train them, before shipping them out to an active war zone.

Though it had been chipped at relentlessly before already. Quite hard to be a someone in a cohesive unit. Not that it mattered to Eliot, he had a place to belong now, while his dream hadn’t matched Tracy’s, he was glad she had gotten him to this, with his brother’s in arms, even through all the horrors.

Yet, despite all she’d done for him, he forgot her and Fast Car.

There was not much room to listen to your own music and he was already a country hick, so he didn’t really need to amplify that more with a country music station.

He was fine fitting in the way he did. He wrote to Aimee, even if it was less and less, letters filled with empty promises made out of a sense of obligation to her and home. He didn’t speak to his father, nor his siblings. He stayed far away from everyone as his hands colored a dark red on foreign soil.

His bright and promising military career soon turned into a promotion to black ops where he didn’t exist to the government unless he came back.

The color of his hands didn’t change, it just got more pigmented as it dripped until wetwork was just a step to a better future. He had already killed so many people, getting paid almost nothing for a government that didn’t care. Why not do it for more money?

So, he had emptied his soul, filled it with money he didn’t truly need and more enemies around him, hoping it would be enough.

He had disappeared completely.

Eliot Spencer was no more, not really.

The man might still walk the earth, but anyone who met him didn’t live to tell the tale, so friendship was hard to come by. Maybe that’s why Moreau was such a welcome change in his life. There was a man, who might be powerful, but who would never have enough security against Eliot, smiling at him and offering him friendship – with money and a bit of violence thrown in – like Eliot was just another being he could own.

And by god did Eliot want to be owned. He once more longed to belong like he had done in the army, but he no longer was innocent enough for the army, which was an ironic sentiment that was true enough to hurt.

He had walked through pools of blood he had made, hoping no one would follow the bloody footsteps he left behind, but here there were others, who had walked through the same red sea as he had and who found each other under Moreau.

It was brutal work, soulless too. It was nothing more than destruction in exchange for power that was a fire with no ash left behind, just bare rock where nothing grew.

And Eliot was home.

Later, in a future he didn’t know he could have, when feeling returned to his limbs and he saw how his pools of blood had turned into seas had turned into floods and it was too late to turn back. Only then would he look back and hate himself, but not now.

Now Eliot was on top of the world. Sitting at the side of the most feared and most powerful of the underbelly of the underbelly, while remaining in an bright spotlight was the best place to be. He was untouchable and unfeeling.

He had always been weak for belonging, for seeing the world and making someone of himself and Moreau was the best salesman there was. He sold Eliot a unfulfilled dream with labor for Moreau as payment without the hitter every realizing.

So he went through the motions. He got more skills, he learned new things. He stopped enjoying life, though he would only later come to know that.

Eliot Spencer had disappeared under Moreau and not just from the records. He was no longer the boythat had driven out of a small town in Oklahoma to sign up for the army in the hope of being more than his neighbor.

Though, he supposed he had his dream. In a way. Here he was, more traveled than he could have ever hoped for with experiences so far from the norm that no one from his class could have ever matched his tales.

He had become what he had always dreamed to be, so why did he feel so hollow?

The answer came to him in the most horrific way he could imagine. He’d just pulled the trigger, he kept on doing it like he was supposed to but oh god- he’d done that. He killed them and he hadn’t even given them the time to beg, to spark humanity in his heart, because his heart had died long ago.

He needed to get out.

He needed to get far away from there.

From Moreau.

Why it had to be so extreme before he could finally see, he didn’t know. But it had. It had to get terrible, unforgivable. He had to see that the man he had been and wanted to be, was dead and that he was a devil with no chance at salvation.

As a hollow shell he’d ran. For a long time he had wondered if it was worth it to keep running, but slowly the people who chased him dwindled as less and less returned, until he knew he had been given a second chance. A chance to make it right.

It was Toby, who hammered in that lesson. The man might not have knownEliot’s complete tale, but he was familiar with the haunted look in his eyes, so he took Eliot under his wing and showed him how his hands were made for more than violence.

Eliot laid his guns down there and took up a knife, vowing to only fight where he could get hit in return, level the playing field. He’d never liked the power that came with a gun and now he wouldn't pick one up again to be tempted by that voice.

He wouldn't be that man anymore. He refused. He would stay in Toby’s kitchen for now, figure out a plan that would carry him forwards as a better person. Not good, just better.

So it came to be that, one night, when he was alone in the kitchen, slicing up some onions for the prep for the next day, while tune played on the radio.

At first he hadn’t even recognized it, but still he listenedclosely, now scoffing at some of the lyrics, until one of the last verses played.

You got a fast car And I got a job that pays all our bills You stay out drinking late at the bar See more of your friends than you do of your kids I'd always hoped for better Thought maybe together you and me would find it I got no plans I ain't going nowhere So take your fast car and keep on driving

How ironic, he thought. He had always been so focused on the start of the song, on the getting out and leaving everything behind that he had never fully listened to the ending. To the fact that Tracy never got the ending she’d wanted.

He’d been stupid to think he’d ever get a happy ending. He’d been far less deserving off it and fate was never kind. He always prided himself on knowing better, but he’d been more foolish than anyone in his class.

‘I’d always hoped for better.’

And by god, he had. He had wanted so much, dreamed so big and set goals so unobtainable that he would always have keep on climbing.

So maybe he had never been Tracy, maybe he’d been the dick that had promised her the world and then never delivered. He thought of Aimee and how he had never been a settler, but someone that kept on disappointing and leaving.

The far car had not always been a car in his life, but he had always been on the road, always had been going somewhere, or maybe he’d just been running away.

Maybe now he had stopped running? Though, if he hadn’t been running, he’d been hiding. Here in Toby’s kitchen he had made a little haven away from everyone that had hurt him and that he had hurt. And he didn’t deserve that. Not after what he did.

Eliot made a vow to himself that night, listening to Fast Carin the back of a restaurant, both reminiscent and nothing like when he had first heard it. He would leave there and face the world, never kill again, just survive and try to do better.

He could at least try to do better.

So, he said goodbye to Toby and went off into the world. Toby wouldn’t go anywhere, but Eliot had to. He would remember Toby, however, carry him with him whenever he ate a new dish or went on a grift as a cook. It was a good time, one of the best he’d had since the army, maybe even since Aimee.

Still, he didn’t look back, not to her or Toby. He had things to do, people to help, as well as himself a bit. All of his funds from working from Moreau had disappeared and he needed to survive if he wanted to repent.

Somehow that road led him to a prick named Nate Ford and a job to get the plans of a plane back. It led him to Hardison, a nerd he liked more than he wanted to admit, and Parker, who made him smile with her antics as well as give him heart problems. It led him to Sophie, who had so many masks that he could relate to her and feel safe in his nobody-ness.

It led him to a team, more than a team really. After a while it reminded him of the army with all his brothers, family was closer, but he had no reference for family, except them.

Even Aimee told him they were, because he’d come back to help her when she needed him and part of him felt lighter on that promise fulfilled. It felt like a start. Not a new start, because it would never be fair to everyone he’d hurt to erase those sins like that, but it felt like he had a bucket and soap and the color of his hands might fade to a light pink one day.

And Eliot worked.

He pushed himself into more grifting, learned a bit of hacking, scaled building hanging from a tiny rope and learned to think of more than just strategic exits and weaknesses in physique. He completed the jobs they were hired to do and he helped people.

What he had dreamed off when he had first joined the army, he found at Leverage. He found family, a home, a sense of duty and belonging. He was changing the world for the better.

It was amazing and more than he had ever hoped for himself, even on those nights alone with the radio, he couldn't have hoped it would end like this. He was someone. He practically had his own brewpub and a recent memory he could be proud off.

And he was proud as he reminisced alone in the kitchen of their office/apartment, where he was preparing some stuff for dinner for the next day. It was late and once this was done and in the fridge, he was done for today, but it would take a few more minutes.

Impulsively he put on the song on the speakers like Hardison had showed him. He hadn’t listen again since Toby, when he blamed himself and found himself on the other end of the song, but maybe now it would be different.

You got a fast car And we go cruising to entertain ourselves You still ain't got a job And I work in a market as a checkout girl I know things will get better You'll find work and I'll get promoted We'll move out of the shelter Buy a big house and live in the suburbs

Before he had never related to her dreams, just her drive to get away and make something of herself, but he could understand now. If he ever got too old for his job, then he wouldn't mind living the way he was now, with Hardison and Parker in the brewpub, making his own menu’s, serving people food.

He knew that for Tracy, she had to tell someone to leave, before she could make a move to get there. Still, he liked the verse now more than before. It spoke of a hope, of a view of the future and a certainty about the destination.

The lyrics he had scoffed at when he had just left Moreau, were dear to him now. ‘I know things will get better,’ it was stupid, but maybe- maybe Eliot could believe in that too now.

Without thinking, he put the song on repeat, before gathering the supplies for his marinade as he danced a bit around in the kitchen. It wasn’t as if there was anyone to catch him.

So, he remembered the stupid boy he had been, the heartless man who had forgotten and guy he was becoming now. Until the end of the song:

You got a fast car But is it fast enough so you can fly away You gotta make a decision You leave tonight or live and die this way

And it wasn’t the way the lyric was intended to land and Eliot’s life had went down a way different road than Tracy’s, but those lyrics where him.

He had a thousand ways to leave and had left a thousand more. He could fly away if he wanted, but it was in the fact that he had run that he had found strength. He was no longer a faceless soldier in the army or Moreau’s attack dog. He was Eliot Spencer and he was alive.

There had been a million moments when he could have made a different decision, but he hadn’t and even when it seemed he had been running away all his life, maybe he’d just been running towards this instead.

‘Leave tonight or live and die this way.’

Huh, he wouldn't mind dying for these people, he wouldn't mind living for these people. He was content to be and never leave. All those times he’d snuck out and dreamed, he had never dreamed here, but he was someone and he had found a place to belong.

So he made the decision and stayed. Till his dying day and all that.

~~

A/N:

I love Christian Kane’s cover of Fast Car so much and I played in on repeat while writing this. The original version of the song also still has a soft place in my heart though.

((the song is not in order and some parts are missing, but you know, you don’t always learn a song in the right order and other parts speak to you at different times))

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.34}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 3.3k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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As was to be expected, they didn't come across anyone on their way back down to the ground level, where they parted ways to see matters through more quickly now. Snape went ahead to get Robin's belongings from the office and then proceeded to his rooms already, perhaps starting on the parchments if there was time. Robin meanwhile went into the opposite direction for now, to collect the girls from the astronomy tower and return them to their dorm. They'd been up in the cold long enough at this point, and she also needed them to confirm her alibi that wasn't quite what they thought tomorrow morning. Everything else would look suspicious.

"You've got twenty seconds before I'm up there, so better hide what you don't want me to see." She called up the stairs in advance to ascending them, after she'd locked the door to the tower behind herself, just to give the girls a fair warning and evade the possibility of having to scold them. Then she made her quick way up the tower and soon was met by four innocently smiling faces. Four, because obviously Jorien had somehow managed to find her way to this little gathering as well once she'd been done with her work.

Surprised, Robin quirked an eyebrow at the girl in question. "How did you get up here?"

"I told McGonagall that you'd sent us all up here to do something important for you, and she let me know that the door would be locked and how to open it." Jorien shrugged easily, but with a bright smile up at Robin. "Now you're not the only one anymore who knows how to open classrooms."

"Congratulations." Robin huffed in irony, and obvious amusement over the girl's excitement. Then again… when she'd first learned the spell herself, she had been quite excited as well. It didn't matter now, she had an alibi to construct. "Either way, I'm back now, so you won't have to hold watch anymore. Thank you though, all of you, for helping me."

"You're most welcome. It was our pleasure, and I'm sure the boys will freak out when they hear about all this tomorrow!" Cas grinned in an instant, but still none of the girls made any move to get up.

"C'mon then, we should all be heading back down into the dungeons. It's nearing one o'clock if I'm not mistaken, and I don't want to be responsible for any casualties tonight." Robin added on after a moment of having all four girls grinning at her with too much mischief on their faces.

"Actually…" Cas started innocently, and Robin already knew this wasn't going to end well for her. "We were hoping that you'd play a round of truth or dare with us. We were just in the middle of that when you came back, and it's a Saturday after all. Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"Guys…" Robin sighed in nigh defeat when all four girls looked up at her with desperately hopeful expressions. "Another time, okay? I really don't have the energy nor the mindset for that right now."

"Oh, but we've been waiting for you to come back and sit with us all night!" Cas whined, making the best puppy dog eyes she was capable of. "You'll be gone soon and then we can't have any girl nights at all anymore, not with you at least, and you've never even had a real one! Pleaseeee…"

"Cas…"

"Please Robin, it's not even that late… And you're done with your challenge now, aren't you? Surely you have ten minutes to play a game with us before you go on to do whatever important thing you have going on this time." Melissa picked right up where Cas had stopped, much to Robin's dismay.

"We don't want to hold you up long, really…" Lisa added more carefully. "But we've all really been hoping that you would play a round with us at least."

"We have so little time left with you still here at school." Cas took over the argument again, still looking at Robin almost reproachfully. "You deserve some fun memories! We all do, together…"

When nobody else made an attempt to add any more words of protest, Robin closed her eyes for a second to fight the urge to cry out in frustration. Gods, didn't they understand that she had more important things to do than to play a stupid little game?! Of course they didn't… how could they after all? All they knew was that she was their friend, and that she spent ridiculously little time with them nonetheless. They really did deserve better than yet another adult in their lives who kept on choosing other, more important things over them. Robin had seen enough of that behaviour in her own parents to know how much it could hurt. Perhaps that's why she couldn't make herself say no now.

"Fine." She said instead, more tersely than intended, but it would have to do. "Ten minutes will be alright." With that she dropped down on the blanket they had spread on the ground, and elegantly crossed her legs underneath her while keeping her eyes on the girls around her.

"Alright, if we just have ten minutes then we will have to change the rules a little." Cas was quick to clap her hands with a gleeful smile. "The four of us take turns asking Robin questions, and if you don't want to or can't answer one, then we all have to answer a question of yours in return. Would that be amenable?"

"I honestly don't care." Robin sighed, but her indifference passed by the girls unnoticed. "You have ten minutes, and in those I will comply with anything you make me do. After that however you will return to the dorms with me without protest."

"Agreed." Cas grinned, and Melissa and Lisa nodded eagerly in return. Only Jorien currently seemed to prefer spectating over participating, but Robin let her be, in the knowledge that she would oblige without protest either way.

"Go on then, ask me all you please." Robin said, keeping her back straight and her hands calmly clasped in her lap. "Not that you couldn't do that at any other point as well, but since you obviously prefer this game format, get started then."

For the first few minutes, the girls asked only questions Robin had no problems answering. She didn't deem her answers particularly interesting, but the girls seemed quite content with their game, so she kept on patiently obliging to their every inquiry. It wasn't terrible, but certainly holding her up longer than she had time for currently. Snape wouldn't be all too concerned by her delay, seeing as she'd already told him when they'd parted that the girls most likely wouldn't be brought back down into the dungeons without a discussion. The problem was rather that she currently couldn't focus on much but the sheets of parchment down in the dungeons that likely held the answers to her future.

"Next question!" Cas announced with mischievous grandeur, then turned to her right. "Melissa's turn, isn't it?"

The girl nodded, then thought for a second, and finally smiled broadly. Obviously the topics were about to change from easy to hard now. "Do you have a crush on someone?"

"No."

"Are you currently in a romantic relationship?" Cas asked, obviously based on her prior knowledge and the previous question, and Robin would have glared at her if she hadn't been too tired to.

"Yes." She simply said instead, keeping her facades neutral as ever. Cas, Melissa and Lisa seemed to be rather taken aback by the honest reply in an instant, while Jorien however merely gave Robin a very subtle smile. The girl definitely knew way more than she had told anyone, and Robin was honestly glad for that.

"What is one thing you love, and one thing you don't like about your boyfriend?" Lisa was next to ask, and her question took Robin a few seconds to think about, and even longer not to cringe over. Somehow, the term 'boyfriend' seemed terribly inappropriate to her ears.

"I love who he is. And I don't like that nobody actually knows who he is. In every sense of the statement." She finally replied, which made the three girls frown, but they didn't get to dwell on it.

"Have you ever committed a crime, and if yes, was it by muggle or wizarding standards of legality?" Jorien asked before anyone else could comment on Robin's previous answer.

"Yes." Robin didn't even need to think about the answer to that one. "And both." Again, jaws dropped and eyes went wide.

"What crimes did you commit?" It was Melissa's turn again, and she went straight on with Jorien's clever diversion. "If it's too many, name a muggle one and a magical one."

"A muggle one would be breaking into a gym on multiple occasions. A magical one would be messing with time."

"Have you ever stripped for anyone?" Of course it was Cas again who had to ask a question that was so vague and intimate it would've made Robin blush if it wasn't for her facades.

"Specify." She returned instead, in an attempt to thereby make things better somehow.

"Have you ever willingly undressed for another person who's not you?"

"Specify."

"Gods, Robin, what's so hard to understand about that?! Have you ever taken off your clothes so that another person could look at your body?"

"Yes. And you probably have as well, in the infirmary, at some point." Robin replied neutrally, and Cas only rolled her eyes but went with the vague answer nonetheless.

"What was your first kiss like?" Lisa was next, and that question wasn't even too bad, in Robin's opinion.

"Nerve-wracking. Intimidating. Unexpected." She couldn't help smiling at the memory at last, facades or not. "But also breathtaking, magical, perfect… everything I'd never dared dream about."

"Awww…" Both Cas and Melissa sighed, while Lisa smiled and Jorien smirked. Somehow it surprised Robin that neither Cas nor Jorien, who both certainly knew at this point who her first kiss had been, seemed to care about that fact in the slightest. Obviously there was still hope for bringing them into the same place at some distant point in the future.

"What's the most awkward situation you've ever had at home? With your family, I mean." Jorien's question was next, and while Robin knew that it was only an innocent attempt at changing the theme of conversation to safer territories again, the topic brought a lump to her throat nonetheless. She hadn't thought about her parents in a while now… but perhaps it was time to prove to herself that she was over it indeed.

"My parents invited strangers to live in my room while kicking me out of the house, and when I didn't leave immediately, their guests called me a useless greedy whore, to which my parents said absolutely nothing. During the last dinner before I left, they said that traveling alone with S...someone would result in people assuming I was dishonored, to which I merely replied that it was bold of them to assume that I had any honour left in the first place. That was rather awkward." She explained with a shrug, and unsurprisingly it was all four girls who stared at her incredulously now. Wasn't that something other families did too? No? Well damn.

"They… they just kicked you out of your home?" Lisa ironically was the first to ask in a quiet voice, and Robin immediately felt terrible for spoiling everyone's fun with her story. She'd just meant to answer honestly… Not such a good idea, as it seemed.

"Yeah, well, no, I mean yes they did, but then we all agreed that it would be best if I left and earned my own money." She explained, as if that would make anything better and not worse. Good job, idiot.

"How awful! How old were you?" Melissa went on, as both Cas and Jorien obviously knew better than to ask at this point.

"Seventeen. It all happened just at the beginning of last summer, actually." Again Robin answered truthfully, but more thought through this time. "It really wasn't as bad as it sounds now, that wasn't the point of the story. I just wanted to say the dinner was rather awkward from that point on."

"Right…" Jorien said slowly, then once more was the first to catch on to the desperately needed change of topic. "Next question! We've got one more minute of Robin's ten, so let's do one more round, yes?"

The other girls nodded, then Melissa once more made the start. "It's odd that nobody's asked you this before, but who is your boyfriend anyway?"

"I'm not going to answer that." Robin replied in a surprising ease, as just another fact that she didn't even have to think about. "If I'm not mistaken, that means I get to ask you guys a question now?"

"Yep."

"Alright…" Robin sighed, and the first idea she had was already a decent one, even if it ran at the risk of confusing the girls. "If you had to describe Professor Morgan with one word, which would it be?"

"Handsome." Melissa was the first to blurt out, cheeks tinting red to a degree that was visible even in the very limited light.

"Charming." Cas added next, without even a hint of such embarrassment.

"Nice." Lisa shrugged. "Not quite as much as some other people, but still… He's one of the nicest professors around the castle, to me at least."

"Enigmatic." Jorien finally concluded the round. "I have absolutely no idea who that man really is. I like him, but his ambiguity is odd sometimes."

All girls nodded in accordance with Jorien's statement, but also the previous three descriptors seemed to fall upon common agreement. Robin was both content and unsettled by this development. They really did like him, but except for the strange ambiguity, Robin's perception of Morgan was nothing like theirs. Interesting, from a somewhat objective kind of viewpoint.

"Great, so now I'm next!" Cas announced, and broke Robin out of her pondering. "What's the most intimate thing you've ever done with someone?"

Robin inwardly rolled her eyes, but kept up her neutrality on the outside no less. She might just give them her newfound truth, even if they wouldn't understand it. "Looking into someone's mind and having them look into mine at the same time. I think it's the most intimate you can get with someone, by allowing them to see absolutely everything of you, see exactly who you are without any facades or defenses. To be one for a while, exactly the way you are. And being loved just the same, if not all the more."

"That sounds amazing." Jorien commented quietly, with a serene smile that was nothing of what Robin had expected.

"That sounds boring as hell!" Cas rolled her eyes, which in return was exactly what Robin had expected. "Don't you have any spicy stories?"

"That's not what you asked for, and it's not your turn to ask anyway." Robin gave Cas a pointed look and a humoured smile. Sometimes the imprecision of Cas' language use was a saving grace. Thank the gods the girl hadn't asked for Robin's most erotic experience, because then Robin would've seriously considered jumping off the astronomy tower before she'd turn into a flustered mess. Not that there would've been much to share in that regard anyway, at least not in a way the girls would understand. As of the current moment, Robin's relationship hadn't been on that kind of… physical level just yet. Not because they didn't want to, gods no, but the time had never been quite right for it. Too many late nights working, too many early mornings and other problems, other people, other concerns. Besides, they weren't the kind of people to rush things, especially not when any form of intimacy was new to either of them in the first place.

"Exactly, it's my turn to ask now." Lisa's words came as the next saving grace to Robin's thoughts. Or… something of the sort, at least. "What's one thing that Cas and Jorien know about you but Melissa and I don't?"

"That I was stabbed last summer and almost died from severe blood loss."

"Wait, really?!"

"Yes." Robin replied with a sigh under her breath, and her two roommates nodded in accordance. This at least was a somewhat easy topic to talk about by now… it simply was a fact that wouldn't harm anyone anymore.

"My turn!" Jorien announced before anyone could make a big deal out of it, and once more Robin was more than glad for the girl's brilliant intuition. "What's one thing you wish will happen in your more distant future?"

That was a nice one, actually, and a small smile graced Robin's lips in return. Perhaps she could end this silly game on good terms with the girls after all. "I wish that some day in the future, when certain things are different, everyone I care about will be able to sit at the same table happily. That also includes you guys, just so you know."

"Aww, that's sweet." Cas smiled happily, and the others seemed equally content with the answer. Thank goodness.

"Now, I answered all of your questions and played along nicely." Robin said, then rose up to her feet even as her muscles protested in stiffness from the cold. Bloody hell, she should've cast a heating charm before coming here… At least, other than her, the girls were all wrapped up in their warmest clothes. "Let's get you back down to the dungeons."

"So, you aren't coming to the dorms with us?" Melissa asked, while the five of them made their way down the staircase at last.

"No. I still have something very important to see to, and that really can't wait any longer." Robin sighed as she locked the door to the tower back up behind them, then ushered the girls on into the direction of the dungeons. From now on it wasn't unlikely that Morgan might return, and she wanted to be safe in Snape's quarters before that happened.

They made their way down the stairs and through the corridors the same way they always did, with Cas entertaining the entire group and Robin following silently behind them. To her luck, Robin remembered to say goodnight earlier than she had to, to conceal just where she was heading, but she still let the girls walk a good bit ahead before she herself went on to take a detour to her own destination. Better safe than sorry, after all. Mere minutes later nonetheless, she finally arrived in front of the door to her safest haven, and let herself in like she did so often. What first greeted her on the inside after locking back up behind herself was a welcoming wave of the fire's warmth and golden glow, followed immediately by the sight of papers strewn everywhere across the floor. Most surprising however was the fact that Snape was sitting right among them, knees bent and arms propped up on them while he stared off into the flames with an empty expression. Robin froze in her spot immediately, and her eyes remained fixed on him while everything within her squeezed together with a start.

"I'm going to die, am I not?"

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