#yes i am a hateful little bastard but like. its fine. i also love him and he knows it

[ochrearia]

Small Shenanigans

Iiiiii don't have a better title for this but I don't careeee. This is yet another followup to the last one I can't believe I'm doing chronological parts right after each other instead of just random situations days or weeks apart. Crazy!

Also yeah. Left Beefer, Blue, and Cyber out. I'm sorry I cannot handle all these BFs at once it's so hard on my brain to keep track disjrjsifjg AAAA GUILT ITS FINE

BFs in this one-shot: PoPr!BF (Biff, mine), wyd!BF (Beef, Karl's), fc!BF (Boyf, Keyy's), sfa!BF (Peacock, Shed's), S2!BF (Bee, Isaac's), Yourself (YS)

“Someone tell this absolute moron to remember to relax his muscles, because I’m all the way over here and I can still see that he’s so tense that he might collapse into himself and make a black hole.”

“I woke up, maybe five minutes ago? And you’ve decided to be the biggest problem in my life. What did I ever do to you, Bee?” YS grumbled in response, suddenly self-conscious of how he’d already been tensing all his muscles up.

“Dude, you’re stressing out 24/7. That’s bad.” Beef pointed out, the most obvious statement of the century. “Ever heard of this thing called self-care?”

“And before you joke about ‘yes I have, I’ve been taking care of you guys’ that does NOT count.” Boyf added quickly.

YS closed his mouth, glowering at him for taking the words out of his mouth. Now he couldn’t deflect.

“Could do it for him.” Peacock suggested. “We’ve got him all warm and cozy already. More care for the big guy!”

Fuck all of these assholes. YS groaned, pulling his hoodie strings so far out that the hood closed around his entire face, only showing his nose. One of the first things he’d been allowed to do was put the hoodie back on properly when he woke up. It had apparently been a few hours at least since Biff found him, and now there was mostly everyone just hanging around for the sake of it.

Blue had been busy, as well as Beefer. Well, more like Beefer couldn’t get away from his world without a really suspicious excuse. Blue had insisted the rest who could come to give YS lots of love on his behalf, which was sweet.

Cyber wasn’t fully comfortable with anyone but YS yet. He wasn’t even actually in the main group chat either, because YS knew he could not trust the rest of these morons to be appropriate all the time with a 14-year-old version of themselves in there.

“I am fine.” YS insisted rather weakly. “Tense muscles are nothing, there are infinitely worse things that I could be dealing with right now.”

“We have to convince you to eat sometimes, YS, so sorry to say that we’re not believing that shit for a second.” Biff grinned, knowing that would only make him complain more.

God, dammit, I can’t with this. YS grumbled more, facing his worst enemy- his own head. Sentiment gets caught too easily in his mind, just the fact that they were here for him, talking about how to take care of him, something about that made him feel ridiculously small. Something about that also caused a slight flush to his cheeks, thankfully hidden by the hoodie.

The bastard known as his shapeshifting, however, was not hidden by the piece of clothing.

“Aaaah, he’s shrinking again!” Peacock teased gleefully. “Oh please, please get small enough so I can pick you up like a stuffed animal, just one time.”

“Shut the fuck up!” YS all but shrieked, embarrassment growing worse by the second. “Stop that! You’re doing it on purpose, stop using my power against me!”

“But you’re so fun-sized!” Bee grinned, ignoring his pleas and going further.

“Nah, it’s kind of really hilarious to be able to call you short.”

YS shrunk more against his will, whining while he covered his already hidden face with his hands. “Hate you. Hate all of you. Terrible, bastardly little brothers. I will kick you out of my apartment.”

“I don’t think you can kick any of us out of here with how small you’re at right now.” Beef grinned with a shrug. “I mean, look, you’re small now, might as well go with it. Let us help you, idiot.”

“At least let me give you a shoulder massage.” Biff insisted. “Beef said something about you not liking people touching your upper back so I’ll avoid it. You’re probably tense as fuck everywhere but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Ugh, fine. If that means you idiots will stop talking about taking care of me, in front of me.”

“Nothing wrong with hearing how much people love you, moron. You have to stop thinking you’re exempt from such things.” Boyf thought with a stern look.

That word again. He’d been so averse to that word at the start. Didn't like hearing it in relation to himself because he didn’t want to believe it. Insisting that it didn’t apply to him, because why would it? And it was getting hard for him to continue thinking that when in his right mind. Dammit, they were changing him in ways that he hadn’t expected.

And he hated to admit it, but the shoulder massage was fucking melting him.

“‘I’m fine’ my ass.” Bee teased. “It’s so fun to see you be the complete opposite of what you tried to make us believe at the beginning. Mr. tough guy, talking about how cool and mysterious he is, acting like a complete fucking force of nature. Fast forward and here you are, small as fuck, flustered over the idea of people wanting to take care of you, and then also melting faster than butter at the first moment of loving attention.”

“I am going to- I’m going to block my mirror with a blanket. Because you fuckers keep waltzing in whenever you want and making my life hell.” YS hissed. “Banned from the big brother world because you can’t be trusted to behave.”

“Behave? We’re behaving.” Biff snickered. “You want to see us actually misbehave? There’s a very easy way for me and Beef to team up to do that right in front of everyone!”

“Shut. Up.” Venom wasn’t a common factor in YS’s tone, but it slipped in every once and a while. This wasn’t actually potent venom though.

“Geez, alright, no need to be sensitive about it.”

Alright, you know what, if they were going to treat him like a toddler then he was going to act like a toddler. It wasn’t like he could get any smaller at this point, they’d teased him to the limit. Might as well just give up!

YS whined indignantly, deciding that the continued shoulder massage was no longer worth it and wiggled his way out of Biff’s grip. He gained slight triumph hearing his offended gasp, turning around and sticking his tongue out at him. Well, now he was on the floor and his line of sight didn’t even reach past some of their torsos.

“He moved! Fair game!” Peacock hollered, swooping in and lifting YS off the ground by the waist. He had a habit of picking him up.

“Watch it! Watch where you put your hands!” YS shouted, smacking the hand a little too close to his stomach. “Fucking hell! Would it kill you to warn me before you keep doing that?!”

“Think I’m starting to figure out this fabled YS secret that Biff and Beef refuse to give up…” Boyf thought aloud, but it went unnoticed compared to the air chaos.

“Put him on your shoulders! That way he can pretend he’s at normal height and act like he isn’t an adorable softie.” Beef suggested.

“My big brother teddy bear abandoned me for another me. This is crazy.” Biff deadpanned, but his voice was still playful.

“What do you think about that idea, big guy?” Peacock held YS up in front of him like he was holding a pet cat. “Ah, wait, I can’t call you that right now. Are you good with that little guy?”

Mortified. Something stirred in YS’s head at being called ‘little’. Huh. He was always the big brother, being tall and towering over some of them. Why did being the small one and being acknowledged as such make him want to melt? Seriously? He’s not a little brother.

Maybe it was just the idea of not having to be the ‘oldest’ keeping everything together. To be able to be the idiot, not the first line of defense.

“...Yeah.” YS mumbled, head full of fuzziness. “I wanna be up there.”

Such a silly concept. Getting a piggyback ride, again, from Peacock. Despite how big he usually was, despite how tough and serious he’d tried to come across as. Reminded him of a nickname he’d been given a while ago… something rather silly.

“I think you killed his brain.” Bee cackled from his spot near the wall mirror. “Can he get too embarrassed? Should we pull it back?”

“Never tried that hard, to be honest.” Biff shrugged. “I am but one man. Only so much I can say on my own to push him over the edge. I don’t think he can handle all of us getting on his ass at the same time.”

“Aw man, don’t make me feel bad. I was just teasing. We didn’t actually make you uncomfortable, did we?” Boyf worried.

YS shook his head for a moment before resting his chin on top of Peacock’s hat. “No, I’ll live. Thinking about stuff. Might still be a little messed up from my bad night. Still tired but when am I not, honestly…” He was rambling.

“We’re all here for you, remember that.”

“Do you feel any better by being up there?” Peacock asked lightly. “Boyf is still kinda taller than me, so I can’t guarantee the best view. Is this close enough to your normal?”

“I promise that you don’t have to worry about simulating my normal height, I live like that everyday. I haven’t lost it. I’m simply not like that right now.” YS rolled his eyes.

“Well… now what? You’ve got your throne atop Peacock’s shoulders, what say King Brother?” Bee teased, trying to play around some more.

“King Brother? Don’t inflate his ego even more than it needs to be…” Beef jokes.

This apartment was where he spent almost all of his time, really. Only having energy for small amounts of actually doing things. Getting food, supplies, anything that was necessary were things YS could kick his ass enough to do before he ran out of essentials. But in terms of anything else, he didn’t really get out a lot, and he didn’t count going to other worlds. Most of the time going to those other worlds entailed another apartment that he didn’t even walk out the door from.

The sun had been up for a while now. He didn’t make a habit of opening his window shade much, the light in his room was a pale yellow from the old lightbulb. God, he used to be so active. He used to go out a lot more, enjoying the air and sky, being a person in the outside world. He used to be content to go out alone. Nowadays he could barely stomach the idea, knowing that weirded out looks would be shot his way for how he appeared. He didn’t like going out alone.

But he wasn’t alone here. Five of his brothers were hanging around, seemingly not willing to leave any time soon. Perhaps he could take advantage of that, to take a step that he probably needed?

“Let’s get out of here.” YS said finally. They looked at him like he’d just said the world was ending- actual shock. “What? Stop looking at me like that. I can’t enjoy my piggyback ride if Peacock doesn’t have an open space to parade around. I can guide us back to my apartment if we get lost.”

“YS? Playing into being ridiculous? What fucking year are we in?” Biff was teasing, but the excitement shining in his eyes gave him away.

“All of us?” Beef questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“If you want to be a boring loser and stay here that’s your choice. Ah, but you don’t let anyone challenge you like that and get away with it, now do you?” Peacock was egging him on on purpose.

“Running around like maniacs with the chance to explore the slight differences of YS’s world? Hell yeah, sounds like a great way to spend an afternoon.” Boyf hopped up, ready to go.

“Try not to run off so fast that the smaller of us can’t keep up. Then we’ll really be lost. Unless you’re gonna do it on purpose, then I have a few choice words.” Bee snarked, getting up from his place too.

“Fuck it, let’s go!” Came Biff’s deciding call.

It was a warm day. Clouds every once and awhile, but the sky still a bright and vibrant blue. The sun was doing its best to dodge the clouds, shining on the rambunctious group as they pranced and paraded down street sidewalks, guided by wherever YS decided to point them. They got stares, sure, but it was okay. He wasn’t alone this time.

Ah. There was nothing in his chest but happiness here.

How silly.

[shadowsobscurity]

Kaz's Poison

Summary: a confession slips from Kaz while he talks with an old friend, Belladona.

Pairing: Kaz brekker x reader

Warnings: Fluff

Request: no

Belladonna, queen of deception, goddess of mischief, walked around the dark streets of Ketterdam. People closed the windows and locked the doors as she strutted elegantly. She smiled,content by the idea of scaring decent people,or as she liked to call them, the prudish.

Kaz Brekker had called her, which wasn't an unusual occurrence because apart from the wraith, dirtyhands only trusted his lovely poison. Saying Kaz and her were in love would be an exaggeration, they were work colleagues that shared a bond based in spite and grudge.

She arrived at the barrel, the town of bastards. It didn't feel like home, but she didn't deserve one.

As she walked inside the crow club, she could smell the stink of alcohol and stupid men throwing their money down the drain. Jesper waved and approached her.

- Belladona,what a pleasure seeing you -

With a smile she answered

-its good seeing you again Jes. How is everything going?-

-Everyone is recovering from the heist,we are almost fine.-

-Im glad to hear that. Where is Kaz?-

Jesper looked surprised

-Kaz? Why?-

-He sent me an invite- she lifted her hand, confused - hasn't he told you?-

-No,and I'm confused because he hasn't left his room since inej left-

-okey, I will talk to him and see what is happening-

Without waiting for an answer she went upstairs and knocked on the door, with the letter in her hand.

-im not taking visits,you can leave-

-Kaz, it's me, Belladonna. Allow me to enter please -

- Bell, you can pass -

She opened the door and a half dead Kaz greeted her. His eyes were drained in blood and he was extremely pale. There was sweat running down his back and his face was stained with tears. She immediately dropped her evil facade,as he had already dropped his.

She rushed near him and sat next to the bed, waiting for him to talk.

-The nightmares don't let me sleep -

He didn't bother explaining the nightmares,as she was one of the only people who knew about his past

-He is constantly there, waiting for me to fall just so he can push me deeper into the tides-

-Kaz, I know that it's difficult for you, but you need to understand that Jordie loved you and wouldn't like you to blame yourself for something you didn't do-

- I hate the feeling of losing my life to a fear I can't control. I've lost a ton of opportunities I now regret.-

-What do you mean? Are you talking about your touch aversion?-

-Yes. I am in love with money and vengeance, the idea of making Rollins pay for everything he did makes me want to wake up in the morning, but I also love other people and I'm not able to show them-

Something inside her broke. She hated being selfish in a situation like this, but she loved him. Thinking of Kaz with another woman made her stomach hurt.

She smiled a little, trying to hide the pain in her soul.

-You should try talking to them, maybe they understand-

- I am doing it, but she isn't helping a lot-

She stopped thinking, her eyes widening at the confession.

-You love me?-

-Yes. I don't expect you to love me back, I know that loving me is difficult and maybe you don't want to.-

The pain in his voice made her heart swell. He seemed so vulnerable,a sight that wasn't normal on Kaz Brekker. But maybe that was the reason, she wasn't talking to the bastard of the barrel, she was talking to the boy he was before.

Seeing her silence he added quickly

-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. If you want to leave and act like this never happened, do it now -

-No! I love you too Kaz, and I don't care if I have to wait a thousand years to touch you, I will wait patiently for you to be ready -

Kaz's eyes were full of tears. said nothing, but we tapped the bed. You sat next to him as he said:

-I will bring another bed so we can sleep together without touching -

- I'm dying for it to happen -

[colorfulbibliostack]

my beloved cant come over so im gonna have angie over out of spite. he agrees she has a crush on me and everyone knows i have no issue fucking around with people to spite my beloved so. probably we'll just end up smoking all weekend. but he'll still worry so whatever. fuck him. he can die. i hate him

[notebooks-and-laptops]

I love everyone who's into Steddy Hands but ALSO so many people are saying Stede/Izzys dynamic should be tolerating each other for Eds sake and doing threesomes but having no real love for each other and NO. NO my fics can't end like that. You don't understand.

They have one of the most interesting dynamics in the show. I'd put it right up there with Ed/Izzys, Ed/Stedes dynamic (hence this ship appealing to me so much) because like. Okay so first you've got their canon interactions:

"This isn't over Mr Bonnet." "Good. Because I kind of enjoyed it"

"He has terrible taste in lackies"

"His names Blackbeard DOG"

"Trouble in paradise"

"I stood up for you you little shit"

*homoerotically touches curtains* "plum the depths"

"DONT YOU EVER SHUT UP"

Okay and yes obvs it's funny imagining them having to put up with each other for Ed BUT this dynamic??? It's ripe for some enemies to lovers. I mean. They're like. Weirdly obsessed with one another and HATE one another IMMEDIATELY - Blackbeards not in the picture yet and Izzy is CUTTING UP STEDES TOP TO MAKE HIS BOOBIES LOOK ALL SLUTTY. Hes lying to Ed about him for...what reason? Ed doesn't care about stede at this point. It's literally just bizzare random immediate grudge.

And it's so much funner and compelling to me to watch them go from THIS to bickering but dealing with one another for Eds sake to OH MY fucking god I think I'm in love with that TWAT. Like. I just want them to get to that point. That's what I want.

I want someone to insult Stede and Izzy to punch them out and he's like...fuck. FUCK. shit. I actually cared that he was being shat on. Fuck.

I want Stede to be making tea and he realises he knows exactly how Izzy takes it and he has a lil breakdown because oh my god I know what that bastard likes to drink holy shit that's basically a love language.

I want Stede to be like 'this is Edward 🥰 the love of my life and... *sigh* this is Izzy...also the love of my life 😤💖'

I want Izzy to be like 'yes Captain' to Stede and then realise shit does he RESPECT this guy now what the fuck?

I want Stede to kiss eds cheek one evening in front of the crew and then kiss Izzys and Izzy decides not to stab him because...fine. maybe that was...Nice.

I want Izzy to be like...fuck this guy STILL can't hold a sword properly. Get the FUCK over here Bonnet I'm teaching you how to sword fight.

I want Edward to walk in one day from being on deck to find Stede and Izzy cuddling and they just look up and GLARE and dare him to say anything and ACTUALLY I'm only laid here because it's COMFORTABLE and I'm hoping Izzys arm goes to sleep and he SUFFERS-- wait shit darling did your arm actually go to sleep here let me move over for you--

I want someone to be like 'hey Izzy - you still looking for someone to kill Bonnet?' And izzy has to go 'unfortunately...no. I am in love with him. 😕 if u hurt him I will have to kill you I'm afraid. He's a fucking idiot tho'

I want Izzy to realise that Stede actually IS good at fuckery and oh shit he loves TWO dramatic theatre kids he has a TYPE

I just. I don't want the end game of steddy hands to be 'stede and Izzy put up with one another for Eds sake' I want it to be 'they love one another actually and it fucking sucks but also its the best thing that ever happened to either of them'

[mistertf2xreaderfluffballcake]

Merc finding out that another merc also like their crush?maybe?❤️Btw your work is great!

Oh no. no-no-no. Our battle will be legendary! Damn. Lets get one thing clear, nope its a big fatass nope. Nope, they are not worthy. Also, I made sure it was the opposite team merc. To make this spicy. You guys are not prepared! *A lot of swearing a lot* *This not romantic really...just swearing... so yeah, you might be disappointed anon sorry...)*

~How the mercs are if their enemy team also has a crush on you~

Scout

He found out that the blu engi liked you. That little shorty? Really? HA! He stood no chance. He is an angry boy tho. Nope. He will screw with him so much (same with engi) He will always brag about how he is good and how blu engi is...less good. ''Hey! TOOTS! Did ye see that I just beat him so much I bet he will go back crying home to texas! HA!'' 24/7 insult time. He also cuts off him if he sees you talk to him. Oh! Hi, engi! Oh hi, sug- S/O THERE IS AN EMERGENCY!! Oh no, sorry engi! scout`s calling me. *engi smile with the most fake-ass smile ever* What is the emergency scout! I was talking to blu engi! Nothing. ...wtf

Soldier

The blu Demoman liked you. That drunk maggot!? He was unhappy. Very unhappy. Oh boy, you bet he will beat up him during battle! He will also be with you the whole time!!! Soldier, I am fine. NO! CUPCAKE THAT DRUNK MAGGOT COULD BE ANYWHERE. Blue demo is not a bad person you kno- *KABOOM* I am here s/o~! MAGGOT! They will fistfight ok? They both are pretty close in the strength you, but the important question is who is stronger and is worthy of cute little s/o?

Pyro

...um...um...Pryo is just a bit more clingy. Pyro found out how the blu pyro liked you...BURN EACH OTHER TO ASHES. TASTE THE RAINBOW! It is just fire everywhere. *Both pyro burning each other* I made cupcakes~! *stops* *happy pyro noise comes from both pyro*

Engineer

The other scout liked you. OH hell no. That tiny weak buddy boy!? Go back to mama! He will make his sentry especially target him. Was the sentry hitting demo a few moments ago? Welp is that thing now shooting scout from a far range at a much faster speed? That is weird... a bad sentry day I guess. He also chills with you a lot. Oh? Another discussion about your weapon? hmmm...I wonder why. Oh! Hi, sugar! :) Have a seat I just wanna have a quick chat about your weapon and how we can improve it. (it was not a quick chat it was a 2 hour long nice conversation it was good tho)

Heavy

The enemy scout likes you? That baby boy? He knew he shouldn't get mad over such a thing but...he just had to ok? He will destroy that tiny man. Was he trying to impress his crush? Oh, he is now on the floor dead. Oh hi heavy! Hi s/o, You having a good da- *hears enemy scout calling for you* Did you hear that? NO, Do you want to go to the base and have sandvich? sure!

Demoman

...the other soldier liked you. That loud rude idiot? (Pft...He has no chance. )I am now going to fistfight him so bye~! Cheer for me love~! He will spend more time with you. just always chilling with you. During the battle, he will blow up soldier so many times! *KABOOM* hehe, I got him...again! *hick* Did ya see that s/o! He just went boom ya know! All the other mercs are just watching two crackheads just beat each other to death, it`s like a movie! yey free movie.

Sniper

...The other spy liked you. Oh hell no. That sneaky bastard! He was really worried that you would fall for him, but you know what he had to be the big man. He *sign* only targets spy now. ONLY. He sees him, boom headshot! Oh, he was doing a neat magic trick to give you a flower? the flower is now gone oops I was aiming for his head. He will screw him off so much. It is insane. Whenever you are around he will be more clingy...he knows spy is watching. He will pat your head, have a hand around you, etc. (Haha, what ya gonna do bloody spy? Kill me in front of dear s/o hmmm? hahaha I hate you)

Medic

This boy is very very mad. Flirty medic mode: OFF ANGRY MEDIC: ON The...other sniper liked you. That disgusting unhygienic pissman!? He will be next to you ALL DAY LONG. GO ON SNIPER I KNOW YOU ARE WATCHING! WHAT ARE GONNA DO? THROW PISS AT ME? HA! This boy will also flirt with you more...in front of that damn sniper. Oh, his tower is behind me? dont care. flirt and make you blush. He is next to you during battle, healing you... I am fine medic you should heal others!! No its ok they could use the health kit. I can too you know????

Spy

The other spy liked you. That absolutely unprofessional piece of shit He was let`s say...unhappy. He actually felt loved around you! He WILL NOT allow some garbage spy to take you away from him. Spy fight all day long. BACKSTAB,BACKSTAB, BACKSTAB. Of course, you never saw it happen tho only a few know about this. They will always show how much a better spy they are. They are always gone as soon as the battle started, I wonder where they went... They will insult each other in french. So again...what are they saying hmmm a nice conversation? (nope) Instead of flirting he will show that he cares about you. Patting your head, giving you compliments, just spending with each other.

This was fun to write. Sometimes just take a break from cheesy, fluffy, all that stuff. Writing insult/crap is fun too you know. I am sorry anon this is probably what you didn't expect. It`s just my crackhead brain mode went on. Ok? Anyway, I hope you enjoy my random energy writing. Let me just go back to my cave and eat some rice crackers. I apologize for swearing so much um bye.

[the-evil-duckling]

And now that Pride Month's over, Let's Talk About Pratchett.

The companies have taken down their flags. The marches and rallies are fading away. Rainbow colours are melting back into grayscale. And now that all the hubbub is dying down, let's talk about an author who did perhaps more than any other to introduce gender-and-sexual minorities to the public (and not just as a cute oddity to be cooed at from a distance, either).

Let's talk about an author whose works are perhaps the most representative, hard-hitting, and wholesome, in all of well-written English literature.

Let's talk about Pratchett.

Before we dive into the lovely little nitty-gritties, I want to just take a quick look at what Pratchett's writing really is, and what makes it so very exceptional. It's pretty simple, really.

He's funny.

That's the "secret" formula to Terry Pratchett's success across the global; he's funny everywhere, everywhen, across multiple generations and multiple decades and multiple geopolitical borders. You don't have to read Discworld with a lot of effort, thinking deeply after every line about the message the author is trying to convey. You don't have to analyze every character and every situation to see how the author is sculpting a crystal-clear mirror and holding it up to the face of Society. When I'm feeling down (cause college and life and pressure and dreams) and wanna start gouging out my forearms with my nails, I can just curl with one of my comfort books (like Men At Arms, or Unseen Academicals) and laugh and chuckle and just feel better. You can just enjoy it.

Now, I think, I can get to the fun stuff; analysing all of my favourite characters and the roles that they represent in mirroring Pratchett's view of People. (I should mention at this point that I am mainly going to be focussing on the Sam Vimes novels, and what I will be writing are my own thoughts and opinions. Anyone who knows more - or has just read/interpreted the books differently - is of course free to add their own musings.)

Fred Colon: Sergeant Colon is that rarest and yet most typical of things: Fred Colon is an ordinary person. He is no hero, or genius, or leader. He is not evil or even mildly malicious. And that is the very point that needs to be understood. People (most people) are not deliberately evil; they are, on the whole, fairly decent people who treat their friends well and try not to make enemies. It is just... petty selfishness, petty prejudices, petty apathy... all summated in every single member of the populace, and suddenly everyone knows that dwarfs are just money-grubbing bastards who'd bite your kneecaps off for a copper coin and trolls are dumber than the rocks they're made off but they'll as soon smash you to pulp as look at you and you can't trust a vampire cause they're too dead to be alive and-

Carrot Ironfoundersson: Captain Carrot is a cliché. Captain Carrot is a cliché wrapped inside a trope hidden in a Mary Sue, all turned on its head. Captain Carrot, rightful heir to the throne of Ankh, leader of all manner of beings, man who once beat Detritus in a fistfight... is not the hero of this story. In any other series, the story would have been of a brave new cop (who is also the king) standing up to the corruption and lawlessness of the Patrician while taking advice from his grizzled old half-drunk commander who dies four chapters into the first book with some vaguely portentous words that the hero remembers at the very last minute to give him the tools/strength/motivation necessary to keep fighting. But this is Pratchett. And the hero of the story, if there is one, is very much the grizzled old commander. Two other points have also always struck me about Carrot. The first is the matter of identity. Biologically, Carrot is very much a human, but in all other ways that matter he is entirely a dwarf - his name is Kzad-bhat, and even the deep-down dwarfs do not question his dwarfishness - and yet that does make him any less a human. In this is reflected the multiplicity of identity (not just of gender, which is what most people immediately jump to, but all identities). The second point is of the relationship between Carrot and Angua, which seemed to me a representation of a healthy dom/sub relationship. Unlike the twisted shit we find on ao3 (and in some published books that I don't feel that I need to name), Angua is at no point portrayed as lesser, weaker, incapable, dependent, or deferent. She is her own person, and the two of them just happen to have this kind of chemistry.

Samuel Vimes: Ahhhh. His Grace, His Excellency, The First Duke of Ankh, Blackboard Monitor Samuel Vimes, Commander of the City Watch. The protagonist, if not quite the hero, of the series. He is not perfect, not even close. He is casually discriminatory (species-ist?) and thoughtless in most of what he says. his saving graces are that his discrimination is universally applied at all beings living and dead, and that he has never, not even once, allowed his personal feelings of prejudice stand in the way of justice (which is at times, all that separates him from Fred Colon). Does that mean that it's all okay, and everything is now fine and dandy and hunky-dory? No. Not even fucking close. Words matter and actions matter and even how you feel deep inside - all of it matters. Prejudice is prejudice, and it is always wrong. there are no mitigating circumstances, no 'yes, but...' that can make it acceptable. But only an idealistic idiot would say that it is not better than the alternative. And this is the reason that Vimes is one of my favourite protagonists; he is not a hero. He is real.

Leonard of Quirm: A parody of the public perception of a genius (perhaps of Roundworld's Tesla and da Vinci), I have loved Leonard as a character ever since I realised he was gay. Allow me to elaborate. As I was recently re-reading Jingo, I noticed a line that went something like 'He started drawing how The-Going-Under-The-water-Safely-Device could be improved, piloted by a muscular man who was not overdressed'. And just like that, a couple dozen other off-hand comments slotted into place and I realized the homosexual truth. And I love this portrayal of homosexuality, because most books or movies or tv shows or fanfictions with a gay MC (or even sidekick) tend to have a storyline roughly equivalent to 'hey my name is [insert name here] and I'm GAY and I have a destiny to save the world and my family and my GAY boyfriend whom I'm dating cause I'm GAY and before I go outside I have to pick my outfit really carefully better go with salmon-rose-flutter pink cause I'm GAY and now I'm outside and I'm not very popular and this is my tragic backstory cause a lot of people don't like me cause I'm GAY and-' Yeah. This is not good writing. By barely mentioning anything, Pratchett somehow still managed to emphasise that a) homosexuality is one of your identities, not all of them and b) just because a story has a character who is gay doesn't mean that the story becomes about a character being gay.

Trev Likely: One sentence. Just one sentence. 'Hating people was too much work.'

If you actually made it this far, you are obliged to reblog. I'm sorry, but I don't make the rules. (Please?)

[taestefully-in-luv]

Always You | JJK (Drabble#2)

Summary: Jungkook is sick and needs your love.

Pairing: Always You!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: fluff, implied smut.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: none really! enjoy

Notes: no smut in this one! I’m surprised at myself lol Enjoy:)

Taglist: @seagulljk

© taestefully-in-luv

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

You are the definition of exhausted. Work was hectic today to say the least, you didn’t think all these cookie orders would come out of thin air like the way they did today. You and your coworkers are so god damn tired but still decided that you guys were going to hit a bar to celebrate that the day is over. You were going to at least. That is until you were on your way to your car when your phone started buzzing with incoming messages.

Jungkook 9:24pm

Baby I am dying I think I am actually dying

Jungkook 9:24pm

Is it normal to have hallucinations while on nyquil

Jungkook 9:25pm

Bc I keep thinking you’re here and your gorgeous lips are on my dick

Jungkook 9:25pm

Oh my goodddd I am dying, I need you

Jungkook 9:25pm

I need you

You look at your screen and frown…Jungkook mentioned this morning he was feeling sort of…under the weather. But now he’s talking about dying? While you are stubborn while sick, Jungkook is quite the opposite. He’s needy, wants attention and will pretty much do anything you ask.

y/n 9:27pm

Do I need to come take care of you?

Jungkook 9:27pm

Yes:( please come home…

“y/n!” Jade jogs up to you, stopping when she gets to you and your car. “Want to ride together?”

“Ah,” you bite down on your bottom lip, “Actually my boyfriend is sick and—”

“You can say ‘Jungkook’” Jade rolls her eyes playfully, “But I get it, saying ‘boyfriend’ is fun, huh?”

You blush, feeling embarrassed. “Yeah, well. Jungkook is kind of sick and he’s such a baby when he’s like this and—”

“No need to explain.” She smiles, “Go. Next time,” she promises. “But you owe me a drink for leaving me with these fools. Hazel is apparently meeting us too, and you know how Adam gets.” She teases, “So, you owe me.”

“Noted.” You laugh, “See you later, Jade.”

You get inside your car, turning the ignition on when your phone starts buzzing again, this time a phone call from none other than your boyfriend.

“Hello?” you bring the phone to your ear. “Jungkook?”

“Baby.” Jungkook drags out the word in a whine, “Please bring me more medicine.” He softly begs. You have to admit he does sound pretty pathetic. You can’t help but pity him as he starts dramatically coughing on the other side of the line.

“And please hurry. I need you. Need you to cuddle me and kiss me. I think your kisses could possibly cure me.”

“I’m about to leave work right now,” you confirm, “Which meds should I get you? What are you feeling exactly?”

“I’m feeling so…so in love with you.” He slurs from his drowsy state, then starts giggling.

“Jungkook.” You deadpan. “What are your symptoms?”

“It’s just a cold.” He says, “I think it’s what Jimin had a few days ago. That bastard passed it to me.”

“And you want me to kiss you?!” you laugh, “I’m not trying to get sick.”

“No, no. Don’t worry baby, our power of love will fight against it.”

“You are so…” you begin laughing again, your blush deepening. “I’ll be home in like 30 minutes, okay? Think you’ll be alive when I get there?”

“Your love keeps me alive.” He teases, “See you soon. Love you.”

“Love you, bye.” You bring the phone down and click the end button. The AC is blowing in your face, cooling you from the warmth that had crept on your cheeks while talking to Jungkook. It’s unbelievable that he’s able to make you blush like this, like as if this was completely brand new like you haven’t known him for years.

~~~~~~

The apartment is completely dark when you walk in and also completely quiet. Did Jungkook fall asleep? Did that NyQuil finally do its job? You set the bag of meds down on the breakfast table and turn on the kitchen light. You walk into the kitchen and grab a glass from the cabinet to fetch you some water, it’s nice and cold as if travels down your throat. It feels nice… the dark, quiet apartment—you need the rest after today. You think you’re about to go find a sleeping Jungkook and get some sleep yourself when you feel two strong arms wrap around your waist.

“You’re finally here.” Jungkook whispers, “I waited all day for you.” He whines and you smile for him even though he can’t see.

“All day?” you ask, “Should I have left work to come take care of you?” you tease.

“Yes,” he responds shamelessly. “I missed you so much…I think that’s why I just got sicker throughout the day.” He tightens his hold on you but immediately loosens his grip from how weak he feels.

“Come to bed.” He commands and you spin around in his grasp to face him.

“I need to shower and get ready first.” You explain and he looks at you with sad, tired eyes.

“No.” he pouts, “Who cares? Just change and come to bed.”

“Jungkook.” You chuckle. “I worked hard today, I need a shower.”

Jungkook brings you into his chest and he inhales you, taking in your scent and he melts.

“You smell fine, y/n.”

“I smell like cookies.”

“Smells good.”

“Fine, let’s go to bed.”

Jungkook’s sleepy face lights up and he turns your body around so your back is flush against his chest and he holds on to you.

“Lead the way.” He chirps, “I’m not letting go.”

“Jungkook…” you whine as you try walking forward and he follows you while holding on to you as tight as his tired body possibly can.

You two walk into your shared bedroom and he finally drops his arms to his side and makes his way into bed. You go to your drawer and pull out one of his t shirts…you slip off your work clothes for the day and drag the t shirt of your body.

“Cutie.” Jungkook comments as he lays back and watches you change.

“Oh shit, I forgot to grab your meds. I’ll be right back.” You say making Jungkook frown. You make your way back into the kitchen and grab the baggy full of medicine plus a glass of water and walk back into the room when you notice Jungkook dozing off.

“Babe?” you whisper and his eyes immediately shoot open.

“Come cuddle me.” He weakly pats the spot next to him and you smile.

“Take these first.”

“Yes mam.”

He looks up at you with his beautiful doe eyes, a look of submission written all over his face.

“These first.” You hand him two different pills as you sit on the edge of the bed and he swallows them down quickly while staring into your eyes.

“Now these.”

Jungkook nods his head while taking another two pills.

“Any more?” he asks quietly.

“That’s it for your meds.”

“Wrong.” He states. “I need the most powerful medicine of all.” He gives you a soft smile, “Need a kiss from my baby…please, please kiss me. Missed your lips all day.”

“Jungkook…”

“Your kiss will cure me, I’m sure of it.” He whispers softly. “All I need is you to be okay.”

Your eyes widen at his cute confession, he’s so god damn sleepy—you can tell. His eyes are barely staying open but he just wants to be with you. He is trying his hardest to stay awake because he missed you so much throughout the day.

“Please.” He quietly begs. “Need you.”

You search his eyes and find nothing but love in them, you can’t help but beam at him. One kiss can’t hurt you, right?

You scoot closer to him on the bed, your hands finding themselves in his Jungkook’s hair as you softly bring his face closer to you.

“One kiss.” You promise and Jungkook nods his head slowly with a dopey grin on his face.

“We’ll see about that.” He says under his breath and you laugh while leaning in closer to his face.

You lean in until his breaths hit your lips, your lips just barely touching his and he grows weaker at the contact.

“Please.” He begs again, his words hitting your mouth. “Please.”

You peck his lips softly, just giving him a slow kiss. He kisses back, his lips moving against yours so tenderly it makes you melt. You can tell he has no energy but he continues to kiss you. He slants his mouth over yours and tries to deepen the kiss, you tilt your head and give him a better angle. You said one kiss but…

Suddenly, you feel the wetness of his tongue poking out, trying to find its way between your lips. You open your moth just a little wider to give him access to your own tongue, he slides his in your mouth and slowly caresses his with yours. He releases a long, soft moan and you hate that you get so turned on hearing him. This isn’t a moment to get turned on, this is a sweet, tender moment.

Jungkook slips his tongue out and begins pecking your lips again, a little faster than before. But then he pulls back, his breaths nice and heavy.

“I’m so dizzy.” he says with his eyes closed.

“Me too.” You admit, feeling quite breathless yourself.

“No…I mean, like, literally. I don’t feel good.” He breathes out, “Kissing you, I think took all the energy I have left…what are you like a succubus or something?” he jokes.

“Baby, you need to sleep.”

“Snuggle with me, please.” He pats the spot next to him again and you get up and walk over to that side of the bed. You slip underneath the sheets and move your body close to his. You can feel all his heat radiate off his body and you frown…he must have a fever.

“Let’s sleep, my love.” You say but Jungkook weakly shakes his head.

“Wanna hear about your day.” He sinks deeper into the covers and lays his head on your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“It was busy, we had what felt like a million orders today. Yoongi even came by but left because we were so busy.”

“Mhm.” He nuzzles his face into your breasts, “Did you think of me today?” he asks.

“I always think of you.” You admit.

“I thought of you so much today.” He says between heavy sighs, “Missed you so much.” He squeezes your body tighter. “I don’t think I can be without you for very long.”

You feel your heart pinch in your chest…because…

“You can. You’re just a baby.” You tease.

“No, I really don’t think I can. I felt myself grow weaker every moment I was without you.” He huffs into your chest. You caress his back as he speaks, his words becoming more and more slurred and distant from on another. He’s so tired.

“You love me that much?” you get out in a whisper and it’s silent for a few moments, you think maybe he finally fell asleep until you hear him sigh out.

“I literally don’t love anyone as much as I love you.”

You keep quiet for a few moments too long because after around a minute or so you hear Jungkook lightly snoring into your chest…you can’t help but smile down at him. He’s wrapped his entire body around you, holding you, squeezing you. You caress his back some more and start to feel yourself fall asleep as well. Your eyes getting heavier and heavier until the world becomes dark.

~~~~~

“Good morning!” You feel Jungkook’s breath on your ear, you begin to open your eyes, blinking lazily at your surroundings.

“Morning?” you question since it’s still dark in the room. “It’s still night?” you ask.

“It’s like 5am.” Jungkook states. Your eyes finally begin adjusting in the darkness and you notice Jungkook looks ten times better. He still looks tired but he has more life.

“Your kiss cured me, if that’s what you are thinking about.” He smiles that bunny smile and you laugh.

“I thought it drained you of your life?” you sit up on your elbows, “That I’m a succubus?”

“No, it helped me sleep so it could work its love magic on me and now I feel almost all the way better.”

“Almost?” you quirk a brow and he chuckles.

“I think I need more from you to make me all the way better.” He wiggles his brows at you and sends you a wink.

“What more do you need?” you lean forward and peck his lips, but you linger in his space. He smiles against your mouth and kisses you again.

“I think my hallucinations were actually visions of the future.”

You tilt your head, trying to remember what his text said about hallucinations when realization hits you.

“You need my lips wrapped around your cock?”

“I think that’s the ultimate cure.” He kisses you again, “Don’t you think?”

“You’re so needy.” Your lips move over his sensually, your tongue making its way into his mouth. He whimpers into your mouth when he feels your hand grab a hold of his hardening member. He pulls away from you and smiles softly.

“I’ll always need you.”

[rumblelibrary]

I'm not sure if you have already done something like this before, and if you did, please let me know, I'd love to read it, BUT I was wondering if you could do a little thing, maybe with Sebastian Zöllner, where he is like totally behind on every fucking deadline, work is just piling up, he got into stress with his ex, the dishes are not done, he should go take out the trash, you know, everything is just piling up and he just cracks under the pressure, severely doubting his worth as a person. And his friend, the reader, gotta try their best to build him up again, telling him all the things they love about him, and it slowly turns into a love confession without them noticing.

Is this too elaborate, does that make sense for Seb? Idk. To me it does? Like he's always very...Seb around other people, but deep down I feel like he's always under this pressure to live up to his own and others expectations, wanting to be big and famous and perfect in a way.

I'm so sorry, brain go brrr.

Never Enough [Sebastian Zöllner x Reader]

Word Count: 4k Warnings: bad habits (heavy smoking and drinking), self deprecation, depression and some fluff in the end. A/N: I loved this prompt, I love to write Sebastian so thanks to you once more for giving me this opportunity

He should have probably realised something was wrong when the ashtray was vomiting cigarettes out from its dooming position beside the laptop.

He nervously used the left part of the one he just ended to scavenge some space and just pressed it along the others.

Or maybe when after another sip of the same cold coffee mixed with cheap gin he felt the walls of his stomach revolting and stirring against him, threatening a much bigger damage.

Or, again, when he felt like calling back Elke because he was so alone and he was hungry and tired, and she might hate him but he could pull some puppy eyes and maybe it would work. It usually did.

The truth was that he shouldn’t have taken up so many jobs, but the bank account was crying and he needed them, he needed the money.

But again: writing about the umpteenth girl- artist performing naked on a famous historic location?

Or do we have to talk about the way somebody splashed some colour here and there  on a canvas saying it is the catharsis of his young mind against the social construct?

Please, may God spare him from the man calling himself landscape artist because he takes pictures of naked girls on a field.

Charged up with this amount of nothingness, he could just write and delete, write and delete, words count going quickly up to 400 only to go back at 0 in a snap of his fingers over the buttons, because he couldn’t just tear them down. He had to give them some hope, a glimpse of potential he couldn’t see and he wasn’t even aware it existed. Each of them disgusted him, but he was specifically asked to be entertaining and not a killer with his words.

So he kept swiping up videos and photos of these artists, trying to find one thing, one holy grail to get attached to and finally write one good optimistic line in the middle of the words he had to pull up to keep a moderate tone.

He rubbed his temple running over his hairline, which by the way was perfectly fine, before his hand reached down and he touched his t-shirt pulling on the neckline to gather some air, he was wearing his pyjama still, white stained shirt on blue tartan pants. He raised up the shirt and bowed his head down giving in a long inhale from the inside and just cringed to himself.

He looked around as he couldn’t stand up, if he did then he will get only more distracted and these articles needed to be ready for tomorrow.

He noticed the spray against the mosquitos on the floor, those little bastards always hiding under his desk to bite his ankles, he picked it up and sprayed it over himself like it was perfume hoping to ignore the need of a shower for few more hours.

His eyes scanned the small studio flat he was living now: the dishes sticking out of the sink, the noisy fridge buzzing. The one table that was also his work desk filled with used mugs, stained plates covered in cigarettes and leftovers, empty packages of his favourite brand discarded everywhere: from the bathroom up to the couch and to the small bed he owned. Damn, if he run out of cigarette it will be hard to ignore how he also run out of food.

The space was dark and gloomy, some of his stuff still packed up, the fake pop art panting of him and Elke staring at him reminding him of his other loss.

He didn’t touch the bed in days, he just slept on the seat or on the couch.

His attention was attracted by his phone buzzing.

He sat up straight as it was her, it was Elke.

Did she sense his discomfort? 

“Elke” he picked up the call in a second.

“Wow, a quick answer, did you have your phone already in your hand or it happens just so late at night?”

Her sarcasm did’t go past him, but he just thought how long it was since he heard a human voice and not the recording of some idiot calling himself artist.

“No, I was thinking of you”

“Yes, sure, look I have sent you an email with the bills of the time you were here, the ones you have left to pay and it is only fair that you pay at least half of them”

“Sure” he just said it because he wanted to go past the point of money, he wanted her back. Maybe he could crush at her place, feel her hands through his hair, shower, sleep some good sleep and the articles will come around in few types “Elke, I was thinking we might…”

“I just called you for the bills”

“I know, but maybe we could have” his eyes darted at the top right of his laptop screen to see the time “a drink together?”

She huffed a laughter as he frowned lightly “I know you Seb, if it is money or sex what you’re looking for that door is closed and it has been for a long time”

“I know” he murmured as he let out a breathy sigh, a dooming sense of loneliness creeping over him like a giant spider ready to wrap him up and eat him “I just hoped…”

“Don’t hope Sebastian, you’re already an hopeless cause”

She hung up on him and he was left there, he kept that same pose with his phone against his ear. His eyes trailing once again over the empty page of his document on the screen, on the chaos surrounding him.

He nibbled on his bottom lip before running his tongue over the pained area.

He pushed the phone back down on the table with a tremble of his jaw and a shaky hand.

She was right.

What he did of his life anyway? He lost most of his occasions in life, he was now in his thirties and he concluded nothing of what he hoped to be, he failed in all the departments both as an artist and as a critic.

A jack of all trades is a master of none, and maybe only the first type of the famous quote could be applied to him.

He couldn’t even take the trash out or he couldn’t remember the last time he ate something that was vaguely resembling of fruits or vegetables. It is all good when you imagine yourself as a bohemian rooting against the world, when you convince yourself that’s only the proof you needed to know you are fighting well against a system of art that privileges banality and marketing over real artistic value and that, one day, all your struggles will be worth it.

Even Picasso was poor for a long time in Paris.

Damn, maybe to be in a situation like this in Paris would sound more romantic.

But the truth was: he never imagined to have to do it alone, that life would feel so overwhelming, that there wouldn’t be anything but extreme struggle, anger, loneliness and a terrible diet.

For a moment he wished to be a baby again, to be the bright boy he was and let mommy take care of his needs and his dirty shirt and empty stomach. He wished that maybe somebody noticed him before, that somebody saw his talent and helped him to pull it out instead of leaving him to do it on his own only to come late to every step.

And now it is too late, he is lost in the sea of terrible paid jobs and anguishing relationships, let’s not forget maybe he indeed had a receding hairline and he was doomed to get bold .

He squeezed his eyes as a soft sob took over his lip, hand running over his forehead as he pulled on his hair justifying his tears with some physical pain. He shook his head as he tried to gain back some composure, hand flung over to pick up his coffee mug and giving in a long gulp of the coffee, the same one he swore before to not touch again, only to almost choke on it, couching it out only to pick up the bottom hem of his shirt to clean his laptop screen.

He fucking hated to write on a computer, the old typewriters inspired him but that damn ink was too expensive now for his sore pockets.

He smirked to himself as he kept doing it, finding good excuses to call himself off any responsibility. But maybe Elke was right, well she surely was, she had two degrees, maybe he was really a lot cause. He frowned as he wiped slowly the screen with his already stained shirt, the wetness sticking then against his skin as soon as he let it go giving him another shiver.

He didn’t have even the strength to cry, he could only accept it was over.

The curse that he shouted out loud when he heard knocking at the door, smashing him out of his thought spiral, generated an immediate anger reaction from him.

“Fuck, shit, if it is the fucking neighbour, I swear I will kill her cat or that rat she has as cat, fucking hell”

He grumbled as he stood up moving across the table not caring about his state, he only wanted to crawl back into a ball and maybe nuzzle a bit somewhere.

When his death glare appeared after the door opened in a powerful swing his eyebrows lifted immediately finding you on the other side.

He blinked, one of those sleepy blinks where somebody closes his eyes and then opens them really wide to make sure it is not made up in their brain, that one.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You should wash your mouth with holy water Sebastian” you said shaking your head raising your arms to show him some paper bags “I am bringing food and body shower”

He shook his head “Are you calling me stinky?”

“I am” You quickly replied moving past him into his place ignoring his groan.

He stood by the door slowly closing it, he was sure that old bitch was looking through her peephole, only then he stared at you try to make your way into the filthy kitchen. He was really embarrassed about his antics, but surely this time he exceeded some record.

“I am speechless Seb, I helped you with the moving and this place seems to have taken over you” you said as you knew he was in some rut when he kept such a long phone silence.

He was usually always texting, sending memes or one sentence texts.

You cared about him, deeply, you knew he was full of flaws and little quirks, but that’s what made him special. Nevertheless, you were worried about the state of the place, how it showed the way he let himself get dragged through the days. So he observed you, better to say, your back, the way you moved around opening the window to let fresh air inside, turning on a lamp to make some light that wasn’t just the blue one of the screen. Pulling out commodities and food from your magic bags like some sort of Mary Poppins of struggling writers. How you poured soap in the dirty load of dishes and pans, the way you marched securely to his desk to pick up that filthy mug and you frowned just sniffing at it.

“Is that poison?”

“Rat poison” he corrected you.

You shook your head as you cleaned a glass and filled it with water and among the groceries you pulled out a banana.

“Have this now, it will help” you said and he took the glass with one hand and the banana with the other like his brain was shut down.

He stared at you as you leaned your head slightly on side, he went through bad times after the break up but you had never seen him in such a helpless state.

He was chaotic but he always loved to keep up his appearance, to give that handsome and damned kind of vibe.

“Sebastian” you called him as his eyes spaced out and now where back on you “Are you alright?”

He observed you, he stared at your face like he was trying to recognise you, truth it was he kept pushing himself to say yes, say yes, say it is all good, make a joke, a remark, keep it up. You don’t need his burden, you don’t need to hate him like Elke and others do.

Just say yes.

“No” he said as his lips trembled and you watched his ironic mask fall right in front of you as he looked away hiding his tears, real tears, not the ones he can play out whenever he needs.

Just as quickly as you gave him the banana and the water you took them off his hands afraid he might hurt himself by dropping the glass in particular.

"Seb" you called his attention as he sobbed moving like a bird trying to hide his face against his own shoulder.

You took his now empty hands dragging him toward the couch and kicking off the pile of dirty clothes and discarded books on top of it to make him sit down with you.

"Talk to me"

He didn't, the man that was never out of words, even in the times he should have been, was now silent as a tombstone staring away from you as you gave a gentle squeeze to his hands. It pained you to see him in such a state.

So weak, so helpless like a lost child.

"I can't help you if you don't talk"

Sebastian shook his head still staring at the wall.

"You can't help me"

"Is it about writing? I can proof read you, it will be a moment"

He shook his head again making, hair bouncing from side to side.

"No, it is not important if I write or not"

You frowned at that comment.

"What the hell?" you just blurted out "Seb you're a talented writer, you're passionate, funny, witty, why shouldn't it be important?"

He looked up at you shaking his head "I can't write, I can't put together two sentences"

Your eyes travelled onto his side profile, truth to be told he looked worn out but he was still handsome like only Sebastian Zöllner could be. He had that chaotic charm, even with a wrinkled suit he was fearless, strong, poignant. You couldn't avoid him, he owned every place he stepped in and you could feel his gaze run through your bloodstream.

When he asks a question, he meant it, it was a test run into your bones and you loved every second of it.

His lips tightened as he diverted his gaze finally to you. You knew his relationship with Elke was important, he cared about others even if he didn't show it daily like most people do.

"Is it Elke?"

"No, she was just right"

"About what?"

He gulped, his throat dry as he pulled his bottom lip in his mouth grinding his teeth over it like playing something through that gesture.

"About me"

"Breakups are always shit, don't you even.."

"No Y/N" he interrupted you, he was serious, maybe his voice trembled but he wasn't lying or playing some role "I am really a lost cause, I mean look at his place"

His hand waved around the small flat like a drunk orchestra director.

"It is pure trash, I haven't finished unpacking, I didn't have food until you came, I am unable to look after myself, to look after the people that I care about. I worked so hard to be an artist and then I became a critic and now I am so knee deep into my own shit that I have more debts than entries, more failures than successes, more haters than friends"

He gulped down, the waterline of his eyes dangerously red and he sniffled up as he let out a little weak whisper "I just wish I could disappear"

"No"

It came out of you like a lighting bolt, it surged out of you before you could even elaborate. Like an order. A command.

"Seb, you're now in a rough patch of life, but you have always worked hard and well as a writer"

"I am a writer because I failed as an artist"

"You're a writer because you know of what you're talking about, because you're able to see the difference between marketing and passion, between hard work and laziness, because you respect that profession and it makes you the best critic"

"I just want to destroy them all because I am envious, Elke always said I am fuelled by my own envy”

"I have read pieces of yours only encouraging the rightful and bringing down the real frauds"

He shook his head as he was just fixating on the wrong, on the flaws, on the problems.

You huffed cupping his cheeks to force him to look at your eyes.

"Look at me" you said not admitting replies "you are talented in what you do, you are one of the best in your field and you're not on some big magazine only because they know they will have to put up with your shit: with the fact you always meet the people, you look at art pieces in presence, you touch them, you research the colours, you scrutinise everything to the bone"

He took your hands hating to be held like that but he squeezed them in his owns.

"And yes, you're allergic to ironing clothes and washing dishes is your personal nightmare, and yes, you give out many temper tantrums and have a terribly dark sense of humour, you are a failure at time and money management, you love filthy rich stuff and smoke like your life depends on it"

He stared at you, he listened quietly as you knew him from so long and many people, Elke included, wondered what you gained from helping him or just being around him that much. He often teased his ex about being jealous of you and she always said that it was like being jealous of a mortgage.

"So you agree?"

 "I agree to say you are flawed like all of us, that you are just the perfect balance to your writing, you're what you write. You're passionate, you give out the two hundred percent of what you can give, you are like this, you go all-in in everything you do, there's no compromise, no mid way, no foreseeable change of direction, you speed up into the darkness and don't look back. You are bold, you take risks, you let people hate you because you do not compromise with who is son of who or who is the director of what gallery, you judge people over their real qualities. Because you talk to them in their face, because you don't hide that yes, you want to be great, because you're handsome and charming and smart, nobody can outsmart you in your field, not even that idiot you hate that much"

"Golo Fucking Moser" he murmured

"Golo Fucking Moser" you repeated with a chuckle "you don't have anything to envy to him beside the bruises he probably has on his knees for bending down to anyone"

He chuckled at that comment.

"And also, you're more attractive, that pisses off Seb, it is unfair to the poor man”

He leaned his head on side as you wouldn't normally shower him in compliments, he had enough ego for that, but you had never seen him like this and you wished to never see him again in such a state.

"You find me attractive?"

"Well for sure you're an eye candy" you joked

"I mean it"

You rolled your eyes blushing a bit and huffing a chuckle "I do, alight? It is universal knowledge"

He looked at you as he still held your hands in his, his thumbs making soft shapes over the back of your hand.

"That I am attractive or that you find me attractive?"

You groaned looking away with an embarrassed giggle “okay, okay, I see you're back in yourself, let's eat now"

You moved to stand up but he didn't do the same remaining sat in his spot.

"Tell me"

"I pumped your self esteem enough, now let me go"

He chuckled softly, he never really thought you'd be interested. He usually shows off so many bad traits that he has to tone himself down and really try hard to attract someone. It is all an effort on his part to appear better or at least less quirky.

And then now look at you, appreciating even his shit show.

"Y/N" he murmured giving you a soft squeeze. You kept silent not daring now to meet his gaze. He bowed his head trying to reach for your eyes with his gaze and he looked up at you, a smile that wasn't provocative over his lips.

You pulled back yanking your wrists off his grip to move straight into the kitchen corner.

You begun pulling ut some fresh vegetables and bread, you also got some cheese knowing he loves it, wanting him to have a good dinner.

He followed you almost immediately and soon you found his arms grasping you once more in a hug, his chest pressed against your back, his forehead on your shoulder.

"Seb, you..."

"I know, I stink, just give me a moment" he said and you obliged him gently caressing his arms around you.

You hated to be in the friend zone, but you wouldn't be able to survive to lose him forever or to have him joke about it.

Now he was quiet, tender like a hurt pup.

"Thank you, you know you can count on me too, right? For anything” he said and you chuckled softly “I know, you’re my favourite avenger”

He nodded brushing his crisp beard against your cheek and after few minutes stuck in that hug he dropped a kiss on your neck "love you”

He pulled back giving you a smile as he picked the shower gel you left on the counter bringing it with himself to the bathroom with a soft hum.

You smiled a bit bitterly to yourself as you guessed it was meant in a friendly way, but today it was alright. You could endure it. Also that kiss, he always did it when he was drunk, at parties or in the taxi back home after a viewing. It was his cuddly way to say things without saying them, without rambling, and you appreciated that silent language. 

Maybe now he was drunk over his own feelings.

Just like you.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @archangelproperty

[lord-explosion-baku]

Keep Away

Yandere!Bakugou x reader

It’s a special occasion, so Bakugou decides to wine and dine you. It’s too bad for him that you’re intent on ignoring him.

Warnings: yandere, dark themes, lime, forced orgasm, minor food kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, light violence

A/N: I woke up at like three in the morning and decided to finish this. I saw a bad ending to a certain cyberpunk bl dating sim, and thought “would be kinda cool to be force fed cake,” but then it didn’t really turn into all that much cake feeding which is probably for the best. Who’s to say. It’s just kinda fun to say “it came to me during a cyberpunk bl dating sim bad end,” rather than, “it came to me in a dream.” Also, I’m so sorry if you read this and go “ew strawberry cake isn’t my jam. Belgium chocolate 5evah!!!!1!!” but if you do happen to like strawberry cake, I got you fam. 

“So you’re not talkin’ to me now, is that it?”

You keep your gaze low, careful not to even lock eyes with your captor—because no, you’re not talking to him, you’re not looking at him, you’re not even going to acknowledge his existence. It’s your verbal keep away. You’ve decided that it’s the worst possible punishment for Bakugou—ignoring him. You’ve tried just about everything: screaming at him, hitting him, crying to him, begging for your release, and it’s all given you nothing. You figure, why be anymore of a source for his entertainment?

“You should at least thank me for cookin’ you a proper meal.”

From across the candlelit table, Bakugou uncrosses his arms, glaring from the admittedly very well-made plate, to you. He clicks his tongue when you don’t respond, then moans around a mouthful of pad-see-ew, just like he knows you can’t stand.

“It’s so good, baby. Practically melts on my tongue…”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at that. It would be different if it wasn’t his food he complimented, but that’s Bakugou for you. Insolent, prideful, and terrible.

Bakugou stabs his chopsticks into his plate. “You’re not wearing the dress I bought. Not good enough for you?”

You didn’t even try it on. You want to tell him, but that would only spur him on. Bakugou likes it when you challenge him. He always gets that stupid smirk on his face, that daring look in his eye—always like he’s ready to bend you over and fuck you into submission. More often than not, that’s what ends up happening.

“Your ass would look great in it,” he says before taking another mouthful. You can feel his crimson glower scorching your skin, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “You can wear whatever you want, though. I want your ass even in those sweats.”

You exhale and lean back back in your chair. He really has to be so vulgar, doesn’t he? Well, that’s not gonna make you crack.

“Yeah, I won’t force you in it. Not yet, at least.” Bakugou grins at the thought, chewing loudly. “I wouldn’t mind playing a little dress up with my doll.”

Your lip twitches, and you hope he doesn’t see. You have to squeeze your thighs together and ignore impending thoughts of Bakugou’s hands on you—first tearing your clothes off, then slowly, sensually zipping that tight, black dress up. You can’t keep from imagining his lips grazing your back, hands running through your hair, him pressing into your backside…

“Need some water, babe? You’re looking a little flushed.”

Your eyes snap to Bakugou’s and your cheeks warm even more when you realize he’s just caught you fantasizing. At least he doesn’t know what you were thinking about. Christ, you could only imagine the field day he’d have with you if he found out you ever thought about him like that.

After you’ve spent plenty of time hating yourself for having these thoughts, you’ve come to the conclusion that it has to be natural. In a psyche class you’ve taken, you learned a bit about Stockholm syndrome, and though you’re sure you’re definitely not falling in love with your captor, it’s perfectly fine that you occasionally think about him in the lusty kinda way. Admittedly, he’s earned it with the amount of orgasms he’s given you since you’ve been taken. But he hasn’t earned your love. Definitely not.

Bakugou stands, folding his napkin onto the table, and walks over to the ice chest he has on standby. He’s wearing his red dress shirt, paired with that white floral vest and nice slacks. You want to know what the occasion is for, but you won’t ask. You’re definitely underdressed, and a part of you wishes you had put on that dress he picked out for you.

You close your eyes and empty your mind of such stupid thoughts.

“How about some champagne?” Bakugou flips a knife out and cuts the cork off with a pop!, making you jump a little bit. He glides over to you, puts his hand on your shoulder, leans in, and fills the crystalline flute sitting on the table. He smells like spice and that natural burnt toffee aroma he has. It’s so nice that you can’t help but lean into him just a teeny bit. And he notices.

“You’re gonna eat somethin’ for me, yeah?” he whispers lowly into your hair before kissing your temple. You freeze while he moves down your neck, brushing a finger along the opposing side of your face, coaxing your head to turn. “Or are you not in the mood for Thai? We can always skip straight to dessert.”  

Bakugou dips down to kiss you, but you turn so he misses and kisses your ear. He growls out a sigh and you clench your hands into fists. You’re waiting for it—for him to lose his cool. You don’t know why he’s trying to act kindly to you, but that’s sure to end at any moment, and when it does, he’s going to feel guilty. You’re planning on exposing him as the monster you’re always accusing him of being.

“I’m serious, I made cake,” he says, a slight edge in his voice. He twirls a finger around a strand of your hair, tugging it so you face him. “Your favorite. Strawberry cream frosting, and it tastes fucking fantastic.”

Bakugou’s gaze drops down to your lips before finding your eyes. “I could feed it to you—have you lick that sweet cream right off the tips of my fingers.”

Your scowl tightens on him. He smirks.

“Your lips always look the prettiest when they’re wrapped around something. I’m startin’ to really like that idea.”

“Why?” you bite out, because you can’t take it anymore. You’re either going to die from curiosity or die from embarrassment when he inevitably undresses you and finds out just how much his teasing gets to you, and you won’t let him have that.

Even still, Bakugou looks as triumphant as ever because you gave him what he wants: your attention.

“Why what, huh?”

“Why the dress!” You bark, resolve out the damn window. “The meal, the champagne, the cake?! Why are you trying to be so nice to me all of a sudden?”

“I’m not trying to be nice. I am nice.” Bakugou rolls his eyes as if he’s explaining something simple to a child.

“No, you’re not!” You insist. “You’re...you’re…” Shock sets in and your shoulders grow rigid. He couldn’t possibly be...but if he is...he’d be absolutely daft to think you’ll say yes. “You’re not proposing to me, are you?”

“Hah?” Bakugou’s eyes widen. You definitely caught him off guard, and you could melt from the steaming blaze in your cheeks. “You want me to put a rock on those pretty fingers of yours? Make an honest man out of me?”

“No! No!” You exclaim on a head shake. “I just thought...with the whole atmosphere-“

“Princess,” he interrupts, taking your hand into his. He brings the back of your wrist to his lips, and for a moment, you think you could be right about him proposing after all. At least, until he speaks again. “We ain’t gonna get hitched ‘til you’re good and knocked up—at least four months in, too. That way, there won’t be a chance in hell you can skip out on me.”

There won’t be a chance in hell he will knock you up with your IUD in, so good luck to him on that endeavor. It’s not like he doesn’t know about it, either. There’s a reason why he’s never been hesitant to enter you unwrapped. Although, considering what he just said, you don’t believe he’d be any different if the circumstances were different.

Your lips curl into a snarl. “Then what’s going on?!”

“You seriously don’t know?” He scoffs, then leads your hand to your champagne flute. Once you take it, Bakugou tells you he’ll be right back, and you down the drink. You let the bubbles wash down your throat and quickly take a bite of noodles before he sees. You sigh. They really do melt on your tongue. Bastard.

Before you know it, the faint smell of burning wics envelope your space, and all the lights in the room besides the candles on the table dim. Then, there’s a cake placed in front of you—pink, with intricate, white designs lining its frosted edges. You count the candles and there are exactly the same amount of years you’ve been on this earth, plus one—no, not plus one.

You look up to Bakugou for an explanation. He’s simply grinning down at you, looking proud.

“Happy birthday, baby.” Bakugou kisses the top of your head. “Make a wish.”

Absently, you blow the candles out, but you don’t make a wish, because your brain is too busy doing mental math. On your last birthday, you’d gone on a date with Hitoshi Shinsou. He took you to a cute, little café, bought you a coffee and a tiny cake. He’d ended the night with one of the shyest, sweetest kisses you’ve ever received. Not even four days later, Bakugou took you. You never got to thank Shinsou for that perfect day.

The hair on the back of your neck rises with the sudden realization that you’ve been with Bakugou for nearly an entire year. That’s one year of your life ripped away from you. One year where you haven’t made any progress achieving your dreams. One year that you’ll never get back.

“What’d ya wish for?” Bakugou asks, but you hardly hear him due to the scathing fury that rings in your ears and burns your back. You’re unsure of what you should say or how you should react; you already pulled the silent treatment and you think you’re far too livid to go zipping your lips again.

There’s only one thing you can do: go absolutely batshit crazy.

“I hate you!”

With a quick shuffle, the cake is splattered on the table, your plate flies across the room, and chopsticks are in your hand, aiming for Bakugou’s eyes. It’s too bad for you that Bakugou either expects it, or his reflexes are just so good that he catches you by the wrist before you can stab him. You’re immediately twisted around, chest on the table, arm pinned to your back, and his erection pressing into your ass.

“Yeah? You hate me?” Bakugou’s voice is erratic, husky, dripping with lust. He climbs on top of you, grinds into your behind, and hisses, “wanna say that again?”

“Let me go, asshole!” You below and try to buck him off of you, which only encourages him to pull your arm tighter, forcing you into paralysis. You grit your teeth while tears sting your lower lashes. The only weapon you have is your voice, and that’s always proven ineffective against him in the past. Still, you can’t stop yourself from yelling. “It’s been a goddamn year! I’m sick of being your prisoner!”

“Is that right?” Bakugou shifts, and you hear the sounds of metal clanking. You know instantly that he’s taking off his belt. You writhe as much as you possibly can, fearing a lashing. He hasn’t ever really hit you before, and though getting him to the point had been your end goal, taking the belt is a whole other level of pain you’re not willing to endure.

“Katsuki,” you pant, desperate. “Please, no. Please don’t. It’s...it’s my birthday!”

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” Bakugou releases your wrist, and goes for your hair instead. He yanks you back so that his chest presses against your back. His lips are against the junction of your shoulder and neck as he growls, “after everything I’ve fuckin’ done for you? Ungrateful little slut.”

He pulls your sweats down, cupping your ass roughly with his large, calloused hands. They feel good—his rough touch against your soft cheeks—and despite feeling fearful for the state of your ass, you can feel yourself getting aroused. “I really gotta put you in your place today of all days?” He squeezes your ass tight and possessive, like he owns it, and in the moment, you can’t really say that he doesn’t.

“No,” you cry and god you’re pathetic. You had this entire plan set up and now it’s barreling out of your control. As his lips graze your shoulder, you let out a sigh and say, “the cake was really, really pretty, Katsuki. I’m sure I would’ve loved it. I’m sorry I did that. I just…”

“Just what?” He rasps against your neck before his hot tongue draws a long line across your skin, making you shiver in response.

“I was just...overwhelmed,” you admit. “Our anniversary-“ you choke out, the words sour on your tongue, but you manage to make it sound sweet-“is just around the corner. I wasn’t prepared...I don’t have a whole lot of resources to do something special for you…”

Katsuki Bakugou sure is a lot of things, but he’s not a moron. You’re positive he can read your facade like a book and he’s certainly not one to play along. .

“Oh yeah? You wanna do something for me?” He sucks in your earlobe between his teeth, nibbling playfully. You mewl as Bakugou reaches around your body, large fingers moving down the front of you and sliding down your pubic bone. He dips two fingers between your lips, swiping smugly at the traitorous puddling at your core. “Is this really what gets you off, sweetheart? Lying to me just so I get a little rough with you?”

“N-no.” You try to sound stern, sure of yourself, but Bakugou is light to the touch, fingers barely teasing your sensitivity. You catch yourself grinding into them, directly resulting in your ass moving against his erection. You can feel him pulse against you, and it only makes your pussy throb in direct result, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Just admit you want me,” he seethes, pressing more firmly against you while his middle finger teases your entrance. “You like me like this. You don’t want sweet—you want me to be a hard ass, don't you? Why else would you act like such a slutty little brat? Good girls don’t get wet after shit like this, baby. Good girls don’t like to be thrown around.”

“Katsuki,” you say on a sigh while bringing a hand to his arm, hoping to direct him to break through your surface.

“Put your hands on the table,” he growls.

“Please.” You ignore him, pulling his arm more insistently, needing him to deepen his touch.

“This is the last time I’m gonna ask you; put your hands on the table, or I won’t hesitate to use this belt against your bare fuckin’ ass. I’ll lick you so good, you’ll have bruises for months. You’ll need to sit on a fuckin’ ice pack the next time I’m courteous enough to have you dine with me at my table.”

Shuddering, you obey him, planting your palms against the flat of the table, away from the splattered cake. Bakugou lets out a contemptuous scoff, brings your wrists together, and easily wraps his belt around them, tight and with no leeway.

He then pushes your shirt up so that it’s around your wrist with the belt, and pulls your sweats down all the way off of your legs. You’re virtually naked in front of him, with the exception of your bra and panties, helpless to do anything about it. Just like he likes it. He always wants you to bite back until he gets you to submit. He was probably enjoying your little silent treatment show, too; it was just another kind of rebellion, another barbel that he’s fought and won.

A tingle runs down your spine as he traces it with calloused fingers. You feel your stomach tighten from anticipation when he reaches your tailbone and his touch leaves your body. You hear him chuckle as he pulls at a strap of your thong, snapping it back into place. “At least I know you like the panties I got you.”

Pain bursts on your right cheek as the sound of his sharp slap ricochets around the dining room. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out—even still, you’re trembling when he rubs the sore spot.

“Awww,” he coos, snickering. “You gonna try and act tough?”

You exhale, trying and failing to keep a steady breath, but it’s all wrong and you’re already panting.

“Show me how much you hate me, baby, I wanna hear you sing it.”

The next lick comes without any precursor, no warning, no time for you to brace yourself, so when he slaps your ass, you can’t help but cry out—ecstatic or indignant—it’s not your place to decide.

“Katsuki!” You fall forward, forehead on the table, inches away from the ruined cake.

He chuckles at your position, petting the back of your hair. “If you want me to stop, you’re gonna have to lick it up, Princess.”

Your eyes narrow and you shoot a sideways glare back at him. “I’m not a dog.”

His lips tilt sideways, cocky and annoyingly hot, cheeks red, brow raised provocatively. “You sure look like a bitch to me.”

He spanks you a third and fourth time, and your mouth hangs open with unspoken yelps, a familiar, shameful feeling traveling down your stomach to your throbbing heat.

Taking a second, Bakugou dips his fingers into the pink frosted mess in front of your eyes, and brings it to your mouth. “Taste it for me. I worked hard to get the flavor right,” he commands, smearing the cream over your bottom lip. You’re helpless to oblige. Only, when you stick your tongue out, he pushes two fingers into your mouth.

“Bite me, and I’ll have you tied up for the entire night. I’ll make you scream until you’re on the edge of passing out, then I’ll fuck you awake. I’ll use you—fill every hole you’ve got ‘til you’re nothing but a leaky drainpipe full of my cum. Do I make myself clear?”

“Mhmm…” Not wanting to test to see if he was just making empty promises, because he never makes empty promises, you glide your tongue around his fingers, aiming to please. You let out a soft, appreciative hum when you taste the sweet, strawberry flavored frosting, and suck his fingers clean.

“Good girl,” he says, his fingers leaving your mouth, only to dip back into the cake. He brings them back to your lips and you take him in willingly. “Now, I don’t want to hear another word out of that pretty little mouth, until I tell you to speak. Understand?”

You look at him with affirmation. He spanks you again.

Your body jolts, spit and cream drooling out of your mouth as you moan, trying not to utter a comprehensive word. The vibrations from the impact sends waves of pleasure dancing across your clenching heat. He hasn’t even really touched your sex, and yet, you feel the coils of an approaching orgasm winding up in the pit of your stomach.

The sixth and seventh spank has tears falling down your cheeks. The heat is too much to bear and you can feel sweat sliding down your back. You want to warn him—to request that he takes a break, because the oncoming shame that’s making your toes tingle and your heart race might be a little more humiliating than having him torture you for the entire night. But you say nothing, your curiosity besting your dignity. The next spank does you in. Your body shakes as you wail, your coils breaking while you pool out, thighs sheened with your arousal. There’s absolutely no hiding yourself, and Bakugou is going to be all too smug about this. You simply cannot believe yourself.

“No way,” Bakugou husks, fingers leaving your mouth. You’re panting again when he brings his fingers to your fluttering pussy. He pushes them in and all you can offer is a sigh when he’s up to his digits in you.

“Aww...oh no.” You can’t tell if his concern is genuine or not, but it doesn’t matter to you. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, and defeated. He’s never going to let you live this down. You can already hear his future taunts buzzing around in your head. ‘You can’t pretend like you don’t like me when I’ve made you cum just by spanking your perfect little ass.’

God-fucking-damn it.

He has all the merit to tease you for it now, and you’re expecting him to—hell, you’re practically bracing yourself for it, but instead, he pulls his fingers back and pushes your bottom over, so you face him.

“Ah~Ow!” You wince when your butt hits the table.

“Ah. C’mere.”  He frowns and pulls you up by the belt at your wrist. You don’t stop yourself from falling into his embrace. He might be the source of all of your dread, but he’s also your only means of comfort. You let your tears roll onto his chest, muffling your sobs into his shirt. He hushes you, nails tickling your back as he kisses your hair. “S’okay, princess. You’re okay. I’m here.”

“I’m s-sorry,” you cry, and though your wrists are still bound, you manage to clutch onto his shirt. You pull him into you, shamelessly reveling in the familiarity of his scent.

“Hmm?” He lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “What for?”

Your lips tremble and you shake your head, unable to voice exactly what you’re sorry for. Climaxing? Telling him that you hate him? Treating him so poorly when all he does is take care of you? You shake your head again when the actualization of your situation sets into the forefront of your mind. There’s practically a river of tears streaming down your face now and you wish for nothing more than to do disappear, because you’re a stupid girl, there’s cake in your hair, and Stockholm syndrome is bullshit!

“What is it?” He insists, he is tone low, caring.

Dumb. You’re so dumb. Your brain is screaming at you to not say anything, but your skin still buzzes from the thrill of your orgasm. Despite loathing yourself more than ever, you’re practically high, both from catharsis and euphoria.

“I don’t...hate you.” It’s small but it’s there—your voice. There’s a lot to decode from your confession, and by the way Bakugou’s eyes soften just the tiniest bit, you know that he knows what you will not say..

His thumb brushes across the corner of your mouth, wiping away at some residual frosting, then brings it up to where your lips part.

“I know,” he says as you take him in again, swirling your tongue around his thumb, now enjoying the taste of the cake. “Of course I know.”

Your heart swells when he doesn’t laugh at you. He doesn’t even look all that proud of himself. He simply gazes at you with adoration and amazement—and, of course, lust because you have your lips wrapped around something. Prick.  

“That was very hot, babe,” he says before kissing your forehead. “I really didn’t think that you could be so responsive to me.” He chuckles darkly, but it lacks his familiar malicious undertone. “Don’t really feel like I earned it, either.”

His thumb leaves your mouth, slides against your bottom lip, and is abruptly replaced with a kiss. Bakugou’s tongue teases your mouth open, then caresses yours with his. “Mmm,” he hums, the reverberations of his voice sending sensational buzzes down your neck. He nips at your bottom lip, then smirks against you. “Tastes good.”

He kisses you again, molding his lips perfectly to yours, and you feel his arousal poke at your bound hands. Not quite lucid enough to think it through, but feeling a bit mischievous yourself, you cup his girth through his trousers, rubbing his hard length up and down. You run your tongue against his, wanting to taste the power he has over you.

“You want me, baby?” Bakugou asks, pressing himself more firmly into your hands. “You wanna feel me slide inside that wet pussy of yours?”

Still not willing to give him a verbal confirmation, you squeeze his cock, legs wrapping around his torso to pull him closer to you. He growls when you have him grinding against your heat, a dark stain appearing on the prominent bulge he rubs against you. When he pulls away, you see that his pupils are blown, barely a sliver of his crimson iris to be seen. He looks moonstruck, predatory, and beautiful.

“Naughty girl,” he scolds, a tick in his jaw. He pushes you lightly, easing so that your back is on the table, your legs spread out for him. He groans when he runs a finger up your damp, clothed slit.

“I asked you a question,” he continues, playing with your core. He gets a dreamy look in his eye when he pulls your panties to the side, and feels exactly how wet you are for him. Then, he shoots a scathing glower your way. “Do. You. Want. Me. To. Fuck. You?”

“Yes,” you say with a nod. “I want you to fuck me, Katsuki.”

“That’s really too bad.” He snickers arrogantly and your heart falls into your stomach. Didn’t you just have a soft moment?! “Only good girls get fucked, pretty baby. You can’t confess your undying love for me and expect that gets you out of your punishment.”

“I did not!” You argue which earns you a dangerous look.

“You and I both know what the hell you meant,” he says with a threateningly sexy lilt. “You can’t take something like that back at the drop of a hat.”

”I think you’ve punished me enough already,” you bite out defensively, quick to change the subject, because you‘re bitterly aware that he’s right.

“And who are you to decide that?” He smirks, brushing a thumb across your pubic bone. “Thought you were my prisoner.”

“I didn’t mean that!”

“No?” Bakugou gets down to his knees, leveling his face with your center. “Actions speak louder than words, angelface.” He kisses your clit, making the same noise he does when he’s trying to bother you while eating, only when he does it on your cunt, all of your nerve endings catch flame and you’re spiraling back to needy senselessness. “Prove to me that you’ve earned my cock by riding my tongue.”

He’s nothing if not altruistic when he’s between your legs. He’s always been generous and dedicated to getting you off, but there’s something different about how he’s moving now. He uses the flat of his tongue and draws languid strokes up your entrance, taking his time while he swirls around your clit. He groans into you, and if the vibrations of his voice weren’t enough to finish you off then and there, his fingers sure as hell do it for you. He pushes them into you, reveling in the feel of your spongy walls hugging him tightly. He traces intricate patterns across your skin, mapping out the places that make you moan the loudest, just to be keen on teasing you for harrowing minutes. He’s going about this agonizing slow, but there’s something about him taking his time, rather than completely ravaging you to prove just how good he is at eating you out, that already has your walls clamping down around his fingers, your back arching, whimpers and pleas tumbling out of your mouth.

It hits you like a brisk wave crashing against the oceanic shoreline. First it was one liquescent sensation, then a pandemonium of your nerves roaring to life. Your thighs close against his head, locking him into place while your fingers twine with his hair. He moans into you, multiplying the excruciating thrill tenfold. You rock against his tongue, savoring this magnificently prolonged ecstatic escapade.

When your nerves cool down and you’re no longer twitching too much, Bakugou offers you a wry grin before licking his lips.

“Look at what a mess you’ve become,” he coos , kissing your shaking thighs, eyes locked on yours. “Was that all because of me, princess.”

“I...don’t think I’ve come so hard in my life.” You breathe, disoriented by the fact. “Oh my god.”

“That so?” He asks as his tongue travels up your thigh.

Bakugou fervently laps up your post-orgasmic juices all the way back up to your drenched cunt. He groans dramatically while his tongue dives back into you. You’re far too sensitive now, and he doesn’t stop—he likes having you squirm around, bucking your hips this was and that, all attempts at finding an escape for his erotic torture futile. Soon he has you spasming out of control for the third time this night, and he rides the waves of your grudging pleasure with delight.

“K-katsukiiii, pleeease!” You’re breathless, hot, and irrational. He has a large hand gripped tightly on your side while three fingers continue to curl inside of you. “I can’t t-take it anymore! It’s t-too much!”

“What? You don’t think you’ve got another one in you?” He keeps your eyes locked on his as his hands push your thighs farther apart, his tongue slowly gliding across your throbbing clit.

You shake your head, practically sputtering your pleas. “I will do whatever you want, so please-“

‘’S that right?” Bakugou grins up at you, smug and triumphant. He pushes you farther up on the table and climbs over you, one hand at the side of your head, holding him up—the other reaching out to grab a coin-sized piece of cake. He presses it against your mouth as he prompts you with an, “ahh.”

“Ah,” you mimic and he pushes the cake into your mouth. The moment you swallow is the moment his lips latch onto yours. You taste your headiness mixing in with the creamy texture of the cake and you can’t help but moan openly into his mouth.

Bakugou ends the kiss too soon, catching you out of breath and wanting more.

“You can be a good girl, can’t you?” His voice is raspy, thick with need, and you know he’s close to falling apart. You want him to. You need him to. He’s broken you, so it’s only just that he breaks sometimes too.

You nod, cautious to see what he’ll be doing next. He’s certainly not taking off his pants, which was the only thing he should be doing.

He moves your arms over his shoulders and leans down low, breath hot on your ear. “You’ll do anything for my cock?”

“Yes,” you sigh and wish more than anything for your hands to be free so tear his shirt off.

“Because you don’t hate me at all. In fact, you fuckin’ love me. You love everything I do to you, but you’re too stubborn to admit it. That right?”

You scowl ahead, teeth clenched. “Yes.”

He draws a line with his tongue against the most sensitive part of your neck, making you shudder, and asks, “yes, what, princess?”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes, I am stubborn.”

With a “teh!” Bakugou kisses your cheek and leads you up so that you’re sitting straight, and guides you both carefully off the table, sweeping you up to carry you so that you don’t step in any of the food you’ve tossed around. He cradles you in his arms, you half-naked, him fully dressed, and smiles sardonically.

“I’m not gonna make you say it, because it is your birthday, but I will have you know that your punishment is not over.”

“You’re kidding me!” You bark back, leaning away to look him in the eyes to see if he’s serious.

“Sorry, baby.” He laughs. “But I had a romantic evening planned out for the two of us and you just had to throw your little bratty tantrums.”

“What do I have to do—?”

“—to get me to fuck you?”

“Yes!”

“You’re going to take a shower, put on that fuckin’ dress, then we’re gonna do this whole dinner thing over again. If you can behave, then maybe—maybe you’ll get my cock. If not—well princess, history tends to repeat itself, but I was hoping we could act like a normal couple just for one night. Thought maybe you’d be into it too, but that’s not what you want at all, is it?”

“I...want to be a normal couple,” you say unenthusiastically. You’re not sure if you meant you wanted to be a normal couple with Bakugou or if you wanted to be free and normal with somebody else entirely.

Bakugou snickers, as if you said something childish. “No you don’t.”

“Because you think I don’t want to be with you.”

“Nah...I know you want to be with me. But you don’t want to be a normal couple. You want this, babe. You want what we have. You want the chaos. You revel in it.”

“Well, I—“ you begin, desperate to find an argument point that doesn’t make you sound dumb. Is he right? Do you enjoy this? Everyday is like a game with him, and it drives you up the fucking wall, but what would you be without it?

“I hope you can keep your self-control,” you retort flippantly, abandoning the argument. “Hope your dick didn’t burst your buttons, Katsuki.” Your gaze drops down to the tent in his pants, then snaps pointedly back at his face.

He’s absolutely unfazed. In fact, he’s more chipper than you’ve ever seen him—like he��s the cat who caught the mouse. “Just for that, I’m gonna join you in the shower. Keep my belt around those wrists and have you watch me wash myself—see all that you’re missing out on.”

You groan, head falling into his chest as he begins walking towards the stairs. “I really do fucking hate you.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, sweetheart,” he says back, a smile in his voice. “Just as long as you know that you’re not the only person here that knows how to play keep away.”

[tomtenadia]

A Little Braver - 17

So, as promised, part 17 is her.

Be prepared to submerge our bird boy with hugs, he will need them.

I promise the chapter will end in fluff and in a good note. The angst is only for the beginning. I need to douse it a bit since from ch 19 onwards the angst gremlin will be back with a vengeance.

I hope you will love it.

A big hug to all the people who commented, reblogged or loved this fic. Thanks to all of you.

A week had gone by and Aelin and Rowan had taken the official decision to try and go back and both deal with the mess of their lives. 

The week had been perfect. Rowan had taken her hillwalking everyday and slowly she had started to feel like herself again. His presence had helped immensely. In a very short time he had become her rock. Full recovery was still a long way ahead but she felt better and with him at her side she had no more panic attacks or nightmares. 

She felt sad at the idea of leaving the cottage in the mountains but they had promised to go back for some special occasion.

*

It was morning and Rowan was getting ready to go back to work. They had set a date for the inquiry on his student’s death and that would be the day.

For once Aelin was the one worried one. She could not forget his reaction to the movie or the night he came back drunk after Fuzzy’s death. She knew he had put up a wall but hoped he would at least let her in. 

“What are you going to do?” He asked her while adjusting his tie.

“I have a meeting with Dorian and the counsellor and then I will pop in at the station and say hi to the squad and apologise.”

“Good.” His tone was detached and she moved a step to him and hugged his waist from behind “are you okay?”

He sighed “nervous. This will mean revive the entire accident over and over again.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

He shook his head and kissed her “thanks for the offer but I will be fine. My squadron will be there and you have an important meeting as well.”

“Ok,” she wanted to believe him, but could not ignore his cold detached tone and Aelin had learned that it was his coping mechanism. He was not okay.

-

Rowan arrived at the airforce HQ and was met by Lorcan.

“Sir,” he stood to attention.

“At ease captain,” Rowan stood down from attention and placed his hands behind his back in a at rest pose “I am sorry it’s so quick. I knew you were coming back yesterday and I did manage to hold on until today.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Are you sure you are ready?” And for once Rowan heard concern in his CO’s voice “this is going to be brutal.”

“I know.”

“I am on the board too and we have Captain Walker from the 24th squadron and Captain Matthews from the 31st and two engineers. They have all copies of the inquiry sent to the board.”

“Who is the president?”

“Marshal Clark.” Said Lorcan in a preoccupied tone.

“Fuck. The man hates me with a vengeance.”

Rowan sighed again and sat on the bench just outside of the room used for the meeting.

His squad arrived a moment later and they patted each other’s back in support.

“We are all here.” Gavriel told him taking a seat at his side.

“Thanks everyone.”

One of the assistants appeared on the door and announced the board was ready to convene. Rowan quickly texted Aelin and switched off his mobile.

The marshal, being the president, was in the centre of the seating area. Rowan went to greet the other two captains with whom he got along nicely and had known for a long time. Then he went to the marshal and saluted as expected “at ease captain.”

Rowan went to his assigned seat and flipped through the folder in front of him. It contained all the documents they needed. His report of the accident, the reports from the engineering team and other supporting evidence.

Marshal Clark called everyone to attention and declared the board in session. He then proceeded to explain to the members the accident that had happened.

One of the engineers who had performed checks after the aircraft had been recovered was asked to present his findings “after the analysis of the recovered aircraft and after having studied the dynamics of the accident we have found out that the main cause for the engine failure was a disruption in the airflow in the port intake causing it to stall with enough yaw rate to induce a flat spin. Cadet Williamson, according to the records of the accident, flew in the jet wash of one of his classmate’s aircrafts. That caused the airflow disruption. The stall was unrecoverable.” explained the engineer reading from his report “with regard to the canopy, we have found a fault in some model of jets used by the students where the charges did not operate correctly, causing the canopy to separate incorrectly. All those planes are grounded and now being checked.”

“Thank you.” Said the marshal, then his gaze turned to Rowan “Captain Whitethorn, stand please.”

Rowan did so.

“Could you please re tell the board the events that lead to the death of the cadet?”

Rowan took a deep breath and retold step by step what happened. It was still vivid in his mind that it would take ages before he could forget it.

“Did you tell the cadet to eject?”

“I did, sir.”

“Why?” Asked the marshal with inquisitive tone.

“He had lost control of the aircraft. From the black box retrieved from his jet he had pulled 9g after he started spiralling. From my position I could see that he was about to pass out. Ejecting the seat had been the safest option. Little did I know that the canopy would fail.”

The two other captains nodded in agreement, knowing full well that they would have suggested the same thing.

“Would the cadet have survived if he had more high G training?”

“Sir,” Rowan almost growled at his superior “his jet was under 9g for almost ten seconds before crashing in the water. Not even an experienced and highly trained pilot can sustain or survive that.” He breathed again “and you know better than me that centrifuge training can be done only with some weekly limits due to its dangers.”

“Had the cadets received basic procedures on how to properly eject and when?”

“Yes, sir. It’s one of the first things they are taught. They are shown how to properly deploy their parachute and how to blow the canopy. Training is also done in different conditions to simulate possible combat scenery.”

“Training was not the issue here,” said Lorcan going in Rowan’s support “Captain Whitethorn is one of our most experienced instructors and hundreds of students have survived his crushing training and are still alive today because of what he has taught them.”

“The post mortem also backed the cause of death in the crash of the body against the canopy.” Added captain Matthews.

“What kind of training were you doing that day?” The marshal continued, ignoring the protests.

“We were going through some basic dogfight routines. The cadets were only five months out of the academy so we were just covering the basics as per fighter school curriculum.” Answered Rowan who felt lost all of a sudden.

“Would the manoeuvre you had practiced put the boy in a position to be in another jet’s wake? Didn’t you teach them how to stay away from the jet wash of another aircraft during a dogfight?” The marshal had an agenda, that was very clear to Rowan. He was trying to blame this on him.

Captain Walker stood angrily “why are we attacking captain Whitethorn? The problem was that the engine stalled due to the jet wash from another aircraft. An experienced fighter might have been able to find a way out of such deadly spiral, the gods know I have found myself in that situation and got out of it by pure damn luck. Not a cadet five months out of the academy. It’s our job to teach them such manoeuvres but only after they have mastered the basics.” He sat down again nodding at Rowan.

“A good instructor would have taught his students how to fly in close formation and to avoid the wake of a team mate. A captain should know what such manoeuvre could cause.” Continued the marshal who had taken the fight to Rowan.

Lorcan stood angrily “That is enough.” He shouted.

“I would suggest you to sit down, Air commodore.”

“Not when you accuse my best instructor of being the cause of the death of a student.”

“It is my job as president of this board to try and figure out what happened.”

“I told two of my students they were too close. I advised another one not to drop below hard deck. I care about the safety of my students.” Rowan almost growled at the marshal “also, I stand by my decision to order cadet Williamson to eject. Had the canopy worked he’d be alive now.”

The marshal nodded and with a bored expression he then went back to the engineering team and they discussed the canopy issue.

Rowan let them talk and his brain disconnected completely and tried to ignore the pain from what had just transpired.

He sat in silence listening to the rest of the board discuss in the background. 

The marshal eventually called the board to attention “Following the evidence provided by the engineering team and the testimony of captain Whitethorn I declare that the death of cadet Williamson was caused by the port engine stall due to airflow disruption in the intake. The commission also noted that the flat spin in which the cadet went in was not recoverable. Captain Whitethorn is cleared of any faults.” Rowan noticed the disappointment on the man’s face for the fact the had been cleared of any faults.

The marshal then turned to Lorcan “Commodore, I expect you to keep the students grounded until the training jets have been fixed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The board is dismissed.” Clark stood and walked out.

The other two captain went to Rowan “I had no idea the bastard would try to blame you for this.”captain Matthews added with fury.

“I would have told my students to eject as well. It was the only option.” Added captain Walker.

But Rowan was not listening. It hurt too much, knowing that someone had tried to blame the death of his student on him. That the marshal had to question all of his choices and possibly his training methods.

Lorcan and his squadron were at his side as soon as the room was clear.

“The arsehole has some guts.” Commented Fenrys but Gavriel elbowed him.

Rowan stood in a daze and left the room ignoring the voices of his team calling him.

*

Aelin’s meeting with Dorian and the counsellor had gone better than she expected. Thanks to Rowan she had been able to open up and talk to them about what happened and how she had been before her escape and what had prompted her to flee. She admitted to them her fears.

She felt much better but she had confessed that she did not feel ready to go back in action. She felt okay about going back to the station and work from the office but was not ready yet to be in a fire. She was still too scared for that and Dorian and the counsellor accepted her admission.

So they had agreed for a transition period. Aelin was told as well to attend weekly sessions with the counsellor to track her progress and her mental health recovery. She would be on desk duty for a while and after that, Dorian was willing to send her back out but just at his side in a fire emergency allowing her again to be close to the fire scene and if that went well they could work on a plan on sending her back in. 

She had agreed with the final decision and had left the room with a smile and a light heart. She stopped in the corridor to check her phone but no news from Rowan. The meeting should be over by now. She hoped he was okay.

Happily she drove back to her squad and everyone was eager to catch up with her. Then Aedion stopped in front of her “never again,” he told her and Aelin went for a hug. He remained stiff for a moment, then his arms enveloped her in a bear hug “looks like your captain fixed you up nicely.”

“Hey, I would recover from anything if I had such man looking after me.” Said Ansel and everyone laughed.

“He has been nice to me.” But all she could think was his face from that morning.

 *

Rowan had been walking without a direction for a while now. He felt as if he had lost his rudder, he had spent the last twelve years of his life working for people who had been ready to blame on him the death of a student. He looked at his uniform and for the first time since he had worn it he felt no pride in it. He had been so tempted to resign his wings on the spot. No matter that he had been cleared, it stung so much, even if it had been the opinion of one man.

It had been too much. He knew the marshal was never a fan of his. The first student he had lost had been his son. But at the time as well the board had declared it had not been his fault. It had been the pilot’s mistake. The marshal never forgave him. Seeing him again at a board for a student’s death he had probably tried to punish him for what happened to his son.

In the distance he spotted a pub and decided that a drink might help. He got in and sat at the counter and ordered a whisky, but once the drink was in front of him he could not drink it. In his current state he would spiral down again to the same level of self destruction of many years before when he lost the marshal’s son and he could not do that again. He could not put Aelin through that pain.

So he did the only sensible thing. He called her.

Aelin was in the common room with the squad and they were having fun and the guys were telling her about some of the calls they had and then they were teasing Luca and his upcoming exam.

She was about to tell them to stop picking on him when her phone went off. It was Rowan and her heart stopped. 

She quickly left the room and went outside, sitting on the bumper of one of the engines “hey,”

“Hi,” his voice was low and flat and she feared for him.

“What’s wrong.”

Silence.

“Ro, are you okay?”

“No.”

Shit. She stood and started pacing “where are you?”

“At a pub.”

“Which one.”

He told her the name.

“I am coming. Just stay there.” And closed the conversation and almost laughed at the irony of the situation. A week before she had been at the receiving end of such conversation.

She ran back to the squad “guys, I need to go. Rowan. It’s not good. I just have to go…”

She didn’t even wait for an answer. She just rushed back to her car and drove to him. He did not sound drunk so maybe it was not all lost.

She arrived at pub not long after and stormed in. Rowan was sitting at the counter staring at a glass of whisky in front of him.

“Ro.” She walked to him and his green eyes fell on her. There was pain in them, so much pain.

“You are not drunk,” she told him.

“He ordered the whisky two hours ago and had been staring at it ever since.” Said the bartender.

“Hey,” she caressed his head and he closed his eyes at the touch “what happened?”

He shook his head “not here.” He stood and Aelin followed then came back and chugged down the abandoned whisky and went after him.

He was walking away and she ran after him “wait, you have long legs, damn you.” He extended an arm behind him and Aelin grabbed his hand “fine, we are outside, spill the beans.”

She definitely had no tact.

He walked silently a bit longer until they reached a small park and he sat down on a bench and Aelin took a spot at his side never letting his hand go.

And then he told her. Everything that had happened in the room. The results of the inquiry, the marshal’s accusations. The identity of the first student he had lost and his desire to quit.

“I wanted to throw my wings in the marshal’s face.” He looked down dejected “I feel lost now. I want to go back to my students, I owe it to them, to teach them how to be safe. But everything else… I don’t care about it anymore.” his head leaned against her shoulder and Aelin brushed his head with her hand and kissed it tenderly “Ro, how can I help you?”

Rowan turned his head to her and she thought his eyes were wet with tears “what you are doing just now is enough. Having you with me helps.”

“Do you need to go back to the airbase now?”

Rowan nodded sadly.

“Ok, I’ll drive you.” Aelin stood and Rowan followed but before moving he pulled her to him and drew her in for a kiss “I love you.” He said quietly.

She flicked his nose “let’s go.” She offered him her hand and together they walked back to her car.

They arrived at the airbase not long after “do you need me to come in?”

Rowan shook his head “my team is there. I will be fine. Gav will stop me from doing anything stupid.”

“Good. I am going back to the station.” She leaned forward to kiss him “Will you be okay? I am worried about you.”

“I am a big boy.” He joked.

“Ro…”

He leaned forward and kissed her “I do love so much when you call me Ro like that…”

Aelin smiled against his lips “don’t do anything stupid and tomorrow you can ravish me all you want. You can even be super creative.”

“How can I refuse such proposal?” He kissed her again “I will be fine.” His hand went to the door handle and opened the door “I will see you tomorrow morning at home. Have a nice night shift.”

Aelin’s heart swelled with joy at the word home. Their place. They hadn’t made it official but her house had become home. Their home. And she loved the feeling of it.

“Think creative, captain.”

He winked at her and left the car. Then he waved at her and Aelin left, he put his cap on his head and headed back inside the airbase.

-

Rowan made his way to Lorcan’s office and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” came from inside.

Rowan entered the room and Lorcan looked up at him and he did notice the expression of disbelief in his CO’s face.

“Rowan —” but the other man stopped him.

“Thank you for today. For the support.” Rowan said quietly sitting on the chair in front of his CO.

“The man was out of line.” Lorcan growled “he knows what kind of instructor you are. How strict you are. The man was trying to get you sacked as a punishment for his son’s death knowing full well that again it was not your fucking fault.”

Rowan looked away, shutting away the painful memories.

“I already sent orders to start working on the canopies and check them all.”

Rowan nodded silently.

“I know what we can do to cheer you up.” Rowan turned his head staring at a surprisingly cheery Lorcan. Elide was really doing miracles.

“Grab you gear and let’s get out in the air, this man here needs to fly. It’s been so long that it’s a miracle I can still be called a pilot.” And he chuckled.

Rowan stood “Fine, be ready to be crushed.”

Lorcan grinned and stood as well “Oh, I submitted a proposal to allow women to serve in the airforce.”

Rowan’s head whipped to one side “who are you and what have you done with Lorcan Salvaterre?”

“The captain and Elide. Turns out we have both chosen very strong women.”

“I like that.”

“Me too.”

Rowan was doing his pre-flight checks when he noticed Lorcan joining him. The man had always exuded charisma.

“You should really send Elide a picture of you in a jump suit. I know how much Aelin likes it, I guess Elide might appreciate it too.”

Lorcan lifted an eyebrow while he reached his jet and popped open the canopy “you think?”

Rowan nodded “how is it going with her by the way?”

“She is incredible. She is tiny but fierce and stubborn and quite amazing.”

Rowan could not believe it, Lorcan was in awe of someone a feat that he thought was impossible.

“You are in love with her.”

“I think so.” said Lorcan hiding the words in a cough, almost embarrassed by his admission.

“Good.” Then he stared at Lorcan and he realised that going out out for a flight had been a good idea. They were evenly matched in skill and it was going to be a fun one. They had a few turbulent months but he had more or less always got along with him. Flying together again felt like the good old times.

“You missed a spot.” Rowan pointed at one section under the wing. 

Lorcan replied with a middle finger and it felt nice to have their old banter back when Lorcan could finally put aside his CO mask for a while.

“I am not a cadet, I know how to do my pre flight checks.”

“Well, you are not following the order we were taught at flight school, cadet Salvaterre.”

“Stop being a smartass, cadet Whitethorn.”

Rowan climbed in his jet and finished his checks inside and communicated with the tower to finalise the flight plan and get the authorisations required.

“Come on Lorcan, you are so slow. Tower gave us the all clear and the flight plan is in. Are you sure you still remember how to fly? Do you need any pointers, Chaos?”

Chaos was Lorcan’s callsign and he had earned it very early in his career for his flying skills.

Eventually they were both ready and the two jets got taxied away and not long after they were in the air.

“Rules of engagement: anything is allowed and two out of three?”

“Copy that, Iceman.”

“Good, be ready to lose.”

The two jets broke apart and went in different directions and for a while they just ran in circles above the airbase to study each other.

Lorcan hadn’t wanted to admit that he was a bit rusty and Rowan was indeed a nasty customer. 

Gavriel and the three young pilots were walking along one of the long corridors on the airbase when they heard the sound of jets in the air and ran to the next window to look who it was. The classes for the cadets were still grounded and the three of them were on ground.

“Holy fuck,” muttered Gavriel when he realised who was out flying.

He ran out to the viewing tower followed by the twins and Vaughan.

“Is that who I think it is?” Asked Connall speechless.

“Rowan and Lorcan.” The older man turned to the three young guys “you are in for a treat, they can make you feel like a newbie.”

Gavriel saw Rowan pull in a vertical and flying into the sun, roll on his back and continue in  straight line flying just a meter above Lorcan, finally flipped his jet once again and placed himself at Lorcan’s six.

Lorcan tried some evasive manoeuvres but Rowan did not let go, always at his tail attempting to get a lock on his CO.

Lorcan felt trapped and as a last ditch he went into a high G barrel roll to try and shake off Rowan.

“Rowan is going to overshoot,” said Connall who was silently watching the dogfight between their superiors.

Then Rowan pulled a trick out of the hat and kept his jet in line with Lorcan’s then rolled and found himself upside down and fired at the other man.

“Holy fuck,” was Fenrys’ comment at the scene.

“What did just happen? How did he even manage that?” Added Vaughan.

“That is Rowan for you. Now you realise why we can’t ever win?”

“One nil for me, Chaos.”

“You are a sneaky bastard, Whitethorn. And where did you learn such manoeuvres?”

Rowan laughed over the comms “get your act together, Commodore, and you can probably get me.”

The dogfight between the two went on for much longer. Lorcan did manage to win an engagement but Rowan still won 2-1. They landed back and they found Rowan’s team waiting for them.

“Good to see you two flying again. The youngsters never had the chance to see the pros at work.” Said Gavriel relieved that the two men seemed again at ease with each other.

“Oh, yeah. Our dear CO was a bit rusty and I took him out to stretch his legs and I handed out his arse to him twice.”

Lorcan gave him the middle finger in response.

*

Elide was in the ambulance doing some inventory checks when her phone pinged. She opened the text from Lorcan and almost fainted on the spot. It was Lorcan in his jump suit beside his jet and the man actually had a hint of a smile on his face. The second image was of him and Rowan standing back to back, their arms folded at their chest and both had a goofy smile on.

She jumped off the ambulance and ran to Aelin who was in the equipment room checking out their gear “Ace, look!” She shouted as she stormed in.

“What?” And she looked at the two pictures on Elide’s phone.

“Interesting…” Aelin stared with curiosity at the picture of the two men.

“He is soooo hot, I have never seen him in a jump suit and gods I don’t know? Want to remove it one bit at a time?”

Aelin laughed “that’s what I would do to Rowan right now if we were together in a private place. I would peel that jump suit off him until he is naked in front of me.”

She saw Elide blush “Lorcan and I haven’t… passed the kissing stage yet. He has never touched me. He is very considerate of me. But a few times he hugged me and I… felt him.” And she made a gesture and Aelin understood.

“Elide that is normal. How do you feel about the next stage? Like exploring each other’s bodies?”

“As in naked?”

“Yes, but you can start with keeping your underwear to have a barrier on if it makes you feel better.”

Elide sat on the bench beside her “I don’t know how to do this. How do I touch him?”

Aelin could see panic rise in the woman “ask him to show you and then once you feel brave enough to try just give it a go. It can be quite fun.” Aelin stopped for a second trying to find a way to tackle the next issue “Elide, have you ever… you know… explored your body? Down there?”

Elide blushed savagely “no.”

Aelin took the woman’s hand “take a nice warm bath and then…” Aelin wiggled her fingers “just put a hand between your legs and see how it goes, what you feel.”

“Oh.”

“At least once you two take the next step you have an idea of how it feels.”

“And Lorcan does that as well?”

Aelin nodded “yes, and if the man is as good as the others claim he might leave you a satisfied mess just with his fingers or mouth or both. A sort of appetiser before the main course.”

“Do you and Rowan…?”

Aelin nodded “and not just him to me but me to him as well.”

“This sounds so much.”

“Elide, look at me.” Aelin placed her hands on the woman’s shoulder “you do not have to take the next step until you are okay with it. Talk with Lorcan. Explain to him that you are getting curious and want to try more. You can use a safe word so that when you start to become uncomfortable, you shout that word and he has to stop.”

“Oh.”

“He hasn’t rushed you or anything?”

Elide shook her head “no, he has been so understanding, and never pushed.”

“Good. You set the pace. You are the one who needs time so he adjusts to you, remember. But if you feel like you are ready for another step just tell him.”

“Is it… is it as good as everyone says? Is it worth it?”

Aelin nodded “with the right person is something incredible. The intimacy… the connection…”

“Do you have that with your captain?”

“Yeah, and some.”

“Uhhh… are we getting serious?”

Aelin looked away for a moment “I loved Sam. A lot. We were good together but it was never like this. Never this deep.” She threw her head against one of the jackets “I don’t know how to explain it but my feelings for Rowan are so strong that sometimes I feel like I can’t breath.”

“I want that too.”

A moment later the conversation was interrupted by Lysandra entering the room “Here you are, why are you hiding?”

Elide showed Lys Lorcan’s picture.

“Oh mama…”

“Elide is feeling… curious.”

Lysandra hugged the woman “that is wonderful, darling. With such a specimen I’d be curious too.”

“Lys.” Shouted Aelin laughing.

“What? Fine the man can be an arsehole but I can’t deny that in that picture he is one hot bastard.”

“Show her the other.”

Elide showed Lysandra the picture with both Rowan and Lorcan.

“Ok, I really need a cold shower now.”

“I am pretty sure Aedion is available. Just keep it quiet.”

Lysandra laughed “don’t you think I tried? He said it would be against the rules.”

“I am almost done with equipment checks. This room will be free soon.”

“You are a wicked woman.” 

Aelin winked.

“Did you do it in here with the captain?”

“No, but his office is quite comfortable.”

“Nice.” Commented Lysandra.

Lys then took Elide’s hand “come on, we got a couple of things to finish.”

Once the two ladies left she phoned Rowan and he picked up at the first ring.

“I am jealous, Lorcan sent a picture of the two of you to Elide and I don’t get a copy?”

“You liked that?”

“You were both smiling.”

“We talked,” added Rowan “Lorcan was even more pissed than me. I think Elide did the miracle.”

Aelin laughed and relaxed at his admission “how so?

“He chuckled. Lorcan chuckled.”

She heard mirth in his voice.

“And the man is totally in love with Elide. I swear I never heard the man talk like that about a woman.”

“Interesting.”

“Also, apparently he has decided to support my idea of having women in the airforce and submitted a proposal to the higher ups and he is prepared to fight for it.” He told her, knowing she would love the news.

“Ok, I might finally start to like the man. What changed?”

“You and Elide apparently.”

Aelin smiled smugly “so he does listen, I am impressed. I don’t think I can cope with the idea of Lorcan not being the bad guy.”

“His job is very stressful and I don’t think I could be able to cope with the amount of shit he has to deal with.” He sighed “put me in a cockpit surrounded by enemies and I will be fine. But the idea of being stuck behind a desk playing the political game day in day out…. no. I will retire before it happens.” He added sadly.

“So, what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day, captain?”

“I am helping him with a few things. Then do more prep work for our performance review.”

“Do you think you are ready for that?”

She heard a lot of noise in the background and she guessed he was back in the hangar.

“Aye, we are good to go.” He was silent for a moment “I have to go, Fireheart.”

“Sure. Be safe and have a nice drill.”

“I love you. Have a nice night shift.”

“Send me that picture, Whitethorn.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She closed the conversation and relaxed heavily. Rowan sounded so much better and she was smidge less worried. With a big smile she went back to her work.

*

It was past 9pm and Aelin was in her office working away on some paperwork Dorian had sent over. She had a good day. It had felt good being back and she realised that Rowan’s help and their time away had helped very much. She felt saner and being at the station did not cause any problems. She was not ready yet to go back fighting fires, of that she was well aware. That was the last challenge she had to face but she and Aedion had discussed a training regimen that would slowly allow her to find the courage again to go fully back on duty and she felt excited at the idea.

She had been so engrossed in her work she did not hear the knock on the door. When it happened a second time she slowly raised her head “come in.” She said flatly and almost annoyed. 

A head of silver hair appeared on the door and she stopped “am I interrupting?”

“Of course captain. How dare you?”

He smiled and took a step in “I can go if you are working.”

Aelin rolled her eyes “get your arse inside and give me fifteen minutes of silence.”

He nodded and walked to her bookcase, giving her his back. His hand behind his back, his spine ramrod straight and his feet slightly apart in a perfect at ease position. She grinned. You could take the man out of the military but not the military out of the man.

She stopped working and rested her chin on her hands and a pen in her mouth. She studied him from behind and was impressed how still he could stay. A feat that had alway been impossible to her. 

Rowan grabbed one of her manuals and started flipping through it. It was only fair, she had done the same to his flight manuals. 

“A chemistry book?”

She eventually decided to stand and join him at his side.

“I hated chemistry in school. I was good at it but never liked it. I preferred physics.”

Aelin smiled and grabbed another book: fire science “this one might be more interesting.”

He had a look through it and smiled at her “can I take it at home or do you need it here?”

“You can take it home.”

Rowan smiled and placed the book on the sofa then cupped her face “hi, by the way.” And he kissed her.

“About time. I thought you were more interested in my books than me.” She teased him, pulling away briefly.

“You told me to stay silent for fifteen minutes. I was just following orders.”

“Screw that.”Aelin switched off her computer and walked to him, palm upturned, offering him her hand “follow me captain.”

“Do I need to be scared?”

She glared at him.

They walked along the corridor of the fire station and it was so silent and quiet compared to what he had seen during the day “where is everyone?”

“Resting. We got beds, you know? But Brullo and Ress are probably up watching tv as usual.”

They walked through the common area and as Aelin suspected the two guys were watching some  series on tv.

“Hi guys,” she greeted them.

They raised their heads “hi boss,” then noticed Rowan “oh captain, you found her. Good.”

“When I walked in I announced myself. I could not just waltz in.”

“Come on,” she grabbed his hand. Aelin dragged Rowan to the area where they kept the fire engine and the truck. She moved to the engine and opened a door on the side and pulled out two thick blankets then with them under her armpit, she started climbing the ladder at the end of the rig “Come on captain.”

Rowan looked at her puzzled.“Where are you going?”

He saw her rolling her eyes “on top of the rig.”

“If the alarm—”

“Captain, if the alarm goes off we have enough seconds to get our arses back down. They will not drive away with us on top of the rig. Do you trust me?”

He looked at her in a strange way.

Aelin threw the blankets on the top of the engine and climbed back down and marched to him, grabbing his hand “move.”

With force she dragged him to the ladder and prompted him to climb. He did as ordered and once at the top he stopped. Aelin stopped behind him, then in a swift motion she pulled her leg over the engine rail and climbed on its roof.

She took the blankets and placed them on top of all the hoses “it smells a bit of smoke. You’ll get used to it.”

He climbed over and stood for a second admiring the view from on top of the engine. When he turned he saw Aelin laying down on the blankets, her arms extended to him and a goofy smile on her face. He joined her and took a place at her side.

She nested against his chest and his arms looped around her frame.

“I come up here a lot on a night shift. I don’t sleep, I just relax, I love to imagine I am laying on the grass and that if I look up I can see the stars.”

“I do that when I am on an aircraft carrier and I am not on standby. I just walk on the deck along the rail, although is not as quiet as here as there are still flights happening, but it’s less busy. I just lean against the handrail, near the island and look out at the sea and I my case I can see the stars.”

Aelin turned in his arms and faced him “can you navigate by just using the stars?”

“We don’t use it much, GPS is a very handy tool, but it’s a skill we learn in case something fails and you are left with no GPS or any other electronic help.”

“What about you? Had a good day at the station?” He kissed the top of her head.

Aelin nodded eagerly “yes, I admitted I had a problem out loud and both Dorian and Aedion have offered to help in anyway they can.” She looked up at him “and you… you helped so much… and still helping…”

He smiled tenderly “it goes under my job description for boyfriend, I assume?”

She caressed his face loving the sound of him calling himself her boyfriend.

“Say it again,” she whispered to him.

“What?”

“That you are my boyfriend.”

He went for a deep kiss “I am yours.”

Aelin smiled against his lips “those are powerful words, captain.”

“They are true, though.”

Aelin’s heart raced and her hand went to his chest and found his doing exactly the same.

“I love this. Us. I really do…” she stuck her head in the crook of his neck inhaling his scent “but it still scares me because it happened so fast. One day I wanted to punch you, the next I wanted to kiss you. And it frightens me. I want this to work. I want us to work out.”

His hand covered hers still on his chest “you are not alone. This is a lot for me as well. But I am done fighting my feelings.” He hugged her closer “I love you, even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you.”

Aelin kissed his chest “you are so cheesy it’s disgusting.”

Rowan pushed her away and she rolled on her back at his side, her hand still in his “I was trying to be romantic and you ruined the moment.”

She smiled “sorry, I used to do that with Sam all the time. He would say something super romantic and I would respond with a joke. When he proposed I replied that I had to check with my lawyer first.”

“You are a brat.”

“It was so funny. Then I texted him and said that my lawyer had agreed.” Aelin brought their twinned hands to her mouth and kissed them “I showed him later on that night in bed how much I wanted to marry him. He did not complain.”

“You really are a handful.”

“I know, but now you picked me and there is no turning back.” She said against their hands fearing she had gone too far.

“I love a good challenge.” He rolled over and was now half on top of her, his hand on her side caressing her gently.

Aelin grabbed his face in her free hands and kissed him stupid but Rowan pulled back when he remembered where they were. He was still terrified they would drive away with the two of them on top of the engine.

He lay back down and his hand started trailing along her injured arm exposed by the short sleeved shirt. The burns had healed but the skin remained marred. He traced the length of it and leaned over to kiss it.

“Does it bother you?”

“No,” he said softly while continuing to kiss her injured arm and her scars “you are my brave and fierce Fireheart. It scares me that I almost lost you. But you scars…” another gentle kiss “they don’t bother me.”

She snuggled closer and he enveloped her in his arms.

“I forgot.” He propped himself up on one elbow “I have received an invitation.”

“Oh?” Aelin did the same and faced him.

“This weekend the navy is throwing a launch party for the new aircraft carrier, down at the dockyards before she is set at sea for the trials and then off to deployment.” He explained “Me and the guys have been invited and I can bring a guest. Fancy being my plus one?”

“Are we going public, captain?”

“If you want to.”

Aelin thought about it “I could wear the stunning black dress I bought in Doranelle.”

Rowan remembered that dress and the effect it had on him when she wore it in the shop.

“Are you trying to give a heart attack to the whole Terrasen military?”

Aelin giggled “just going to show all those posh boys what an amazing taste in women you have.”

“That I do.” He flicked her nose.

Aelin was about to reply when dispatch alarm went off and she bolted on her feet and pulled Rowan up and grabbed the blankets “come on, captain.”

She climbed down super quickly and by the time he made it down, the blankets were back in the truck and the squad was getting ready to go.

“Showing the captain your special spot?” Joked Aedion.

Aelin nodded and patted his shoulder “keep the guys safe and you stay safe too.”

“Always.” Quickly Aedion ran to the truck and a moment later the squad was gone.

“It’s hard to see them go and not being able to be with them.”

He pulled an arm around her shoulder “come, I’ll make you hot chocolate.”

She followed him “that’s exactly how you woo a woman, captain.”

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp​

@jlinez​

@swankii-art-teacher​

@courtofjurdan​

@whimsicallyreading​

@tillyrubes10​

[lubdubsworld]

Falling for you ( Falling from grace) Jungkook x OC

Rated : 18 +

Warning : . Fuck buddies? Or rather enemies that have sex. They just really hate each other but also can’t keep their hands off each other.

Chapter 1   Chapter 2    Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5

Chapter 6

“Are you sure you want to head back to work today, Areum? Hoseok told me that he would give you the rest of the week off if you like... That bruise on your face is looking pretty nasty.” My sister commented mildly, her eyes worried as she watched me dab concealer on the mottled purpling skin on my jaw.

“I need to finish a couple of reports by the weekend. And Namjoon oppa told me he wanted me to be there when we viewed the CCTV footage later today. It’s going to help getting that bastard fired.” I flinched at how bad this side of my face looked. 

The bastard. 

“He’s not fired yet?” My sister made a noise of outrage.

“Of course he is. There’s a restraining order against him. But formally he needs to be terminated and Namjoon wants to do it in a way that it goes on his record permanently. Especially considering he’s already out on bond.” I wrinkled my nose. 

There wasn’t much chance of Junho going to prison over this but I definitely did not want him within fifty feet of me, ever again. 

“Jungkook’s busy with his practice is it? I haven’t heard from him...” My sister prompted and I nodded.

“His big match is coming up on Sunday. That's like four days away ...he’s probably cooped up in that gym of his.” 

“I know... Seokjin works out there too... its a great place...how come you’re never there?”

I frowned .

“He actually has me blacklisted. I’m not allowed inside the establishment. ” I muttered. 

My sister’s eyes widened.

“What? Why?”

I shrugged. The memory was a good one and worth reliving. In fact i relived it quite often when I was particularly horny with only my own hands for relief. 

“I seduced him against his favorite punching bag once and he had to get rid of it because the cum stains wouldn’t come off. He’s a petty jerk.” I grinned at my sister enjoying the way her eyes went wide as saucers. .

She stared at me slack jawed. And then she shook her head in disbelief. 

“You talk about him this way but you always look like you're half way in love with him. I don’t know what is going on in your head when it comes to Jungkook.”

I laughed.

“I love him. Of course I do.... I’m pretty sure he cares about me too, “ I remembered how warm and content I’d felt when he’d held me, how the police officer had immediately concluded he was my boyfriend, simply from the concern radiating off him, “  But, I’m not going to push for anything. I like how we are ...now.”

“Friends with benefits.?”

“I prefer the term enemies who fuck” I winked and she groaned. 

“Whatever you say. But remember, you’re going to have to DTR at some point and I hope you don’t get a shock if he isn’t on the same page. “ 

“Unlikely. Now go distract mom so I can slip out of the back door.” 

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

“That looks pretty fucking bad.” Hoseok winced when he saw me and I groaned.

“Don’t remind me. I ran into Namjoon on the way up and he swelled like a bullfrog. Is Jungkook in today?” I asked him brightly.

Hoseok frowned.

“you guys are awfully chummy these days ....Need I remind you about the clause on interpersonal relationships in the office?” 

I flushed.

“We’re...not....I mean. We’re friends. “

“I thought the term was enemies who fuck.” Hoseok said thoughtfully and I jumped.

“What-?”

“Jungkook told me, you little brat. I asked him why he went over to the police station and broke Junho’s fucking jaw and he spilled...”

My own jaw came unhinged.

“ He what?!”

 “He posted the bond money for the bastard himself to get him out and then apparently punched him hard enough to land him in the hospital.”

“Oh my God...is he in trouble?” 

Hoseok sighed.

“Of course not... Mr. Jeon had it taken care off at once but I knew something was up . He’s too old to play knight in shining armor , unless there was something between you guys...” 

I sighed.

“We’re in a purely physical relationship yes with of course a splattering of affection for each other. But nothing that deserves a label or close scrutiny from the HR dept. Please Hobi oppa, just let me be. “ I fluttered my lashes and he rolled his eyes. 

“Just as long as you know that Jeon Jungkook is a chaebol. He’s not going to make a honest woman out of you.” Hoseok gave me a pointed look and I wondered if I really did wear my heart on my sleeve. 

Apparently, everyone could sense that my feelings for Jungkook ran deeper than just lust and I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing. 

“Anyway, yo answer you question, yes. He’s in his office right now.”

I made to turn away but Hoseok grabbed my wrist.

“You have thirty five memos to answer and seventeen appointments to schedule. Your desk is this way, I suggest you head in that direction.” His eyes glinted in a way that told me he was incredibly serious. 

I pouted.

Fine... I’d wait for lunch to go meet Jungkook.

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

Jungkook had a secretary of his own , the smitten Miss Lee and she gave me an angelic smile, telling me that Jungkook was out to meet someone in the marketing department. If there was anything important, I could leave it with her.

Declining the offer and thanking her, I made my way to the fireescape and the back stairwell. One of the doors opened to the emergency exit in Jungkook’s office and it took me a little bit of running around but I managed to locate it easily enough. 

Jungkook had left the door open and less than ten minutes later , I was in his office, staring around in mild awe. 

Weirdly enough, I’d never been here. before, mostly because Jungkook himself wasn’t in here all that much. But there was no mistaking that he actually did take his work seriously . I peered around the expensive drawing Tablet and the three or so monitor screens , the stylus tossed about. 

It was probably a huge breach of his privacy but I couldn’t help but click on the mouse, watching his monitor come alive. 

I blinked in disbelief when I realized what I was staring at. 

“Oh my  fuck...”  I

I felt my face flood with heat as I stared at the screen. 

It was a drawing of me. 

I was completely naked , reclining against what looked like a thick white fur rug , with countless plush cushions scattered all around me. The snow white fur set off the golden glow of my skin and I noticed the attention to detail, the tiny mole in the corner of my hip, the small half moon scar on the edge of my collar bone and of course an impressive collection of hickeys on my neck and my inner thighs. 

I looked the way I usually did when I was mouthing off at him, a little angry and rebellious, my eyes blazing with a challenge and my lips parted in annoyance . I had one hand resting right between my legs, two fingers pressed against the labia while the other two disappeared into me. The other hand lay on my breast, fingers tweaking one hard nipple . 

I turned away quickly, breathing harshly as I realized that Jungkook had literally drawn an incredibly accurate drawing of me masturbating , purely from memory.

Not entirely sure if i should be angry at this or not, I tried to clear the hazy cloud of arousal that was beginning to settle all over me. I wasn’t angry. 

I was just ridiculously turned on. 

And incredibly curious if he had other pics of me. 

I whirled back around to the computer and then nearly jumped out of my skin when I realized that Jungkook was leaning against the doorway, watching me with an amused smile on his face. 

“Oh, fuck...” I clutched at my heart which felt like it was going to give out. 

“Pretty sure your desk isn’t here, Areum. Are you lost?” He drawled, stepping away from the door and stalking over to me. 

I stepped back quickly, the action purely instinctive. 

“Did you punch Junho?” I asked sharply.

Jungkook gave me a small smile.

“That is a very mild way to put it yes. He’s gonna be eating through a straw for a couple of months , yes.”

I glared at him. 

“What if you got arrested.” I folded my arms.

He laughed.

“Baby, come on. fucker had it coming. Anyway enough about that loser. Why are you hovering near my desk. Corporate espionage is generally frowned upon baby... Am i gonna have to spank you, you naughty girl?” He waggled his eyebrows. 

I rolled my eyes before walking up to his desk and turning the screen around to show the lewd artwork . 

“how long have you been drawing me like that?” I pointed at the screen and Jungkook looked surprised. 

Surprised but not particularly bothered. 

“Ah... i love that one... Did you see the way I only drew four of your fingers between your legs baby, your thumb is supposed to be rubbing on your clit.... I was working on it when I got called away earlier....” He looked apologetic. 

I felt like I had turned the exact shade of the marron carpet under my foot. 

“Jungkook how long have you been drawing me naked...” I snapped. 

“ Oh... probably the first time you let me see you naked.” He said nodding lightly and I stared at him.

“How come I’ve never heard of this?” I hissed and he gave me a grin. 

“Because it’s for my own personal...use.” He grinned. 

I glared at him.

“How many....?” I demanded.

Jungkook shrugged.

“50...? 60? Definitely at least fifty.” He said casually. 

I stared at him.

“I wanna see them.” I said sharply. Jungkook sighed, like I was being a pain , which was so unfair it made me want to scream. 

“Areum, I-” 

“Jungkook?” A soft voice called from the outer office and I frowned when Jungkook startled. 

“Oh, hey... Sana..... Come in.” His voice had shifted into something mild and pleasant and I felt my hackles rise. 

“Oh..hello... Areum ssi...” The girl gave me a confused smile and I resisted the urge to fold my hands and demand what she was doing there. Instead , I moved away from behind Jungkook’s desk, grabbing a file. 

“Good afternoon Sana ssi.” I smiled.

“I’m sorry, I missed lunch, Sana.... I wanted to give you this. “ Jungkook pulled out a small envelope from his jacket, smiling an absolutely angelic smile at her. 

Sana looked suitably enthralled, her eyes trained greedily on his perfect face as she took the envelope.

“Oh.. are these--?”

“Tickets to my match on Sunday yes...” He smiled. “ I’m hoping you’ll be there.” 

I felt my lungs expand as I took a deep breath to calm myself down. The urge to screech like a banshee was increasing by the second. 

“Oh, I’ll be there for sure. I’ll be cheering you on from the front row, Jungkook !!” She all but bounced on her feet, looking positively giddy with excitement as she bowed to both of us and literally floated away. 

I waited till she was fully gone before turning on him. 

“There better be another envelope in there with my name on it.” I gritted out. 

Jungkook grinned wide at that, eyes dancing with mirth. 

“In my jacket? Not really. But there’s something much better in my pants with your name on it. Want me to whip it out for you baby?? “

He grabbed the edge of his belt buckle, tugging the leather out of the hoops and I glared at him. 

“You are out of your mind if you think I’m going to be okay with you letting everyone watch you fight but  me. That is just unfair and uncalled for.” I snapped. 

Jungkook was still tugging on his belt, but he paused to give me a look.

“What’s in it for me?” He said softly. 

I frowned.

“What?”

“I’m not going to enter a deal without an equitable pay off....Its obvious that you’re really turned on by the thought of watching me fight . So unless you give me something I’m thirsty for.... I’m not going to indulge you,” He said casually. 

I laughed in disbelief. 

“There is literally nothing I’ve denied you in bed , you're crazy to even suggest -”

“I haven’t fucked your ass yet.” He said casually. 

I could feel myself turning red.

“No.” I hissed. “ Absolutely not.”

“Why the hell not?” He frowned.

“Because it fucking hurts. I’m not going through that again.” I snapped. 

Jungkook groaned like he was in actual pain. 

“Baby, its hardly my fault you’ve never slept with a real man before me, is it? Why should I deprived the pleasure of fucking your ass just because those buffoons didn’t know how to do it right?” Jungkook’s voice was dangerously close to a whine and I resisted the urge to throw something at him. 

“I don’t fucking care...its a no. So drop it. ” 

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. 

“Fine. I’ll drop it. For now.” He muttered and then made a big show of thinking, “ alright fine. How about you let me tie you up.”

I stared at him.

“You literally do that every time we have sex.” I pointed out. 

“And I get to use my toy box.” 

I blinked.

“Your toy box.” I said , confused. He grinned mischievously. 

“You know the one...Big mahogany box  underneath my bed. The first time I showed you, you kind of screamed and called me a monster?” He grinned wide.

i had a brief flashback of an assortment of whips, floggers and gags. 

I shuddered. 

Nope. 

This wasn’t working. 

“How about this.... Either you get me those tickets or you don’t get to fuck me. At all.” I smirked.

Jungkook hummed.

“Why would you punish yourself like that love?” He drawled. “ You can’t live without my dick, the sooner you accept that the easier life is going to get for you.” 

The audacity of this bitch. 

I walked right past him , ready to stalk out,  but his hand shot out, gripping my elbow and pulling me into his embrace.

I struggled against his hold, but he brought both arms around my waist, flexing his muscles so I could feel just how futile it would be to try and break free. 

“Come on baby, walking out in the middle of negotiations...that’s just really poor etiquette. Think of the poor hostage....” He pouted , doe eyes wide and I nearly caved. He had no fucking business being sexy  and  cute. 

I laughed in disbelief.

“Hostage??....are you talking about your fucking ego....?” I stared right up at him , tilting my face when he moved to kiss me. His lips latched on to my jaw instead, tongue licking the skin there gently as he hummed . 

“No...I’m talking about my dick.” He grabbed both my elbows, swinging me around like I weighed nothing, one arm holding me in place as he pressed up against my back, hips rolling so I could feel the hardness of his dick right against the swell of my ass. “ Dude’’s feeling pretty darn trapped right now. Poor thing just wants to get inside you and ruin you baby, why you making it so hard for him...?” 

I elbowed him sharply, vindicated when the sharp edge of it caught something hard and fleshy. Jungkook grunted in discomfort but didn’t let go of me. 

“My little hellcat. “ He bit down on the juncture between my neck and shoulder, “You know why my dick is hard?”

“To match your cold unfeeling heart?” I snapped and he moaned in mock hurt. 

“Not fair baby...I have the kindest heart... Soft heart, hard dick....That’s literally my entire persona.” Jungkook nuzzled my neck .  

I fought the urge to laugh . 

“So why then? Because I’m within ten feet of you? Isn’t that all it takes usually?” I muttered, wincing a bit when his teeth sank in a little deeper.

Jungkook let out a soft chuckle.

“Normally I’d agree but today... I’m so fucking hard because you looked like you wanted to claw Sana’s face off when I gave her those tickets....” 

I flushed.

“Well, I just don’t think I should be the only one not allowed to see you fight.” 

“Or maybe you just hate the idea of any one else getting to touch my dick...because like I said...it’s got your name on it right baby?” Jungkook laughed against my ear and I blushed . 

“I still think its rude that you don’t let me come to your matches.” I grumbled. 

“And why do you think that is, baby? Why do you think I’m so adamant about you not being anywhere near me when I have something important to do...”

I didn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut when he suckled on the skin near my neck. 

“Its because I’ll probably lose..” He growled into my ear, “ Don’t wanna get knocked out in the first round because I was too busy staring at your pretty, pretty face and delicious fucking body... My only distraction, my  favorite  distraction.”

  I felt myself melt like an ice cream cone in the fucking sun. 

“Oh, fuck you....you honey-tongued son of a bitch...” I choked out, unable to fight the wide grin that was taking over my face. 

Jungkook chuckled in victory, hugging me tighter.

“So tell me.... Can I tie you up tonight? Get some of my favorite toys...Want to play in your sandbox....” He leered and I laughed despite myself. How could this man make the most innocent of phrases sound so fucking sexy.... 

“Only if you let me pick the toys.”

Jungkook let go of me and gently turned me around. He was frowning deeply. 

“Babe you don’t even know what their called.” He complained.

“But I can gauge how much damage they’ll do and that’s more important to me.” I pointed out. 

Jungkook gave me a thoughtful smile.

“Hmm....fine... But I get to offer the choices. “ He said softly. 

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Okay, in that case you need to let me see every single drawing you’ve made of me... right now.” I smiled.

Jungkook grinned, already grabbing my wrist and tugging me back to his desk.

“Deal...but I’m gonna need you to sit on my cock and keep it warm while I show them to you..... okay?” 

I glared at him but he was already moving to the wide , comfortable chair behind the desk. He sat on the chair, manspreading and unbuckling himself before wriggling the slacks down past his waist and tugging his boxers down. 

I watched him reach in to pull out his hard cock ,  pumping the hard length of it a couple of times before smiling at me expectantly. 

“Horny bastard.” I muttered under my breath, before letting him maneuver me into his lap, fingers slipping up my skirt and tugging my panties aside , before lining himself up against my center. 

“Ready baby?” He kissed my cheeks fondly and I nodded lowly. He pressed a couple of fingers against my slit, dipping in just enough to make sure I was wet enough. I wasn’t dry per se, but it still stung a bit when he drove himself in with one swift stroke. 

“Oh, fuck...” I groaned when he entered me , the rock hard length of him cleaving my insides and making my tongue go dry. I clenched down on him, thighs beginning to tremble already. I gripped the edge of the table in front of me. 

“Maybe I should call Sana in now.? Huh baby...that’ll show her who this dick belongs to, right , angel?” He whispered against my ear and I moaned, a gush of arousal staining my thighs at his words., Jungkook laughed knowingly, wrapping an arm around my waist to keep me still before rolling his hips gently and settling inside me. 

“So baby, which ones do we start with.... Solo shots? ones with me....? There’s one of me fucking your pretty pink hole, maybe that’ll change your mind about letting me take you in the back...”

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

Author’s Note : I’m stopping here because the next chapter is just like 5k of porn and I wanted it to be a standalone chapter. 

Comments are love , Feedback is really appreciated. Send me your thoughts, ideas or even just scream about how hot Jungkook is....anything works. 

taglist : @veronawrites @aamxxrii  @brooky95

@apollukee

@ladyartemesia

@yoongisdragon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ if you guys wanna be on the taglist just lemme know...

[plus-ultra-oof]

Pretty | SakuAtsu | Haikyuu!! | Tickle Fic

A/N: Ok hi so I wrote this a little while ago bc my SakuAtsu brainrot never stops and I figured I might as well share it. This is my first time posting a T-fic so please be kind lol. Also, sorry if the formatting is a mess I am on my phone.

Disclaimer: This takes place post timeskip so minor spoilers for Haikyuu! It’s nothing to major other than some vague things mentioned in passing. Also includes swearing and centers around tickling within a romantic setting (all sfw).

Summary: Sakusa’s stubborn as hell, but Atsumu is more than willing to get his boyfriend to go to sleep by whatever means necessary. Especially if that means he gets to see that pretty smile of his.

——————————————————

“Ya know, yer hair is really soft Omi,” Atsumu said, breaking the calm silence that had settled over the room. It was actually Kiyoomi’s room in his apartment this time. Atsumu was lying on his bed, running his hands through Kiyoomi’s dark curls as the other man laid across the bed, head placed conveniently in the setter’s lap as he attempted to read a book. He was far too tired to do so, in Atsumu’s professional opinion. The way his eyes kept falling shut for longer between blinks and how his grip on the hardcover kept shifting until he was barely holding it open where it lay against his propped up legs supported it too.

“You already- said that,” he replied, trying for flat and uninterested but the cute yawn that interrupted his sentence completely contradicted his unbothered persona.

It’d been a long practice for everyone, but especially the spikers. Both Bokuto and Sakusa had to run an insane amount of cut shot drills on top of their usual work. Just watching it had made Atsumu tired, so he could only imagine how Omi was feeling. The man had been practically dead on his feet when they’d gotten back to their complex, so the way he had melted into their bed upon finally brushing his teeth was unsurprising. His attempts at staying up were though. Atsumu blamed that on his insistence on keeping his routine no matter what.

The stubborn bastard could barely keep his eyes open, but sure, making it through a whole chapter of that thick ass book was totally plausible.

“It’s true though,” Atsumu was quiet for a moment and then, when he got no response he added on, “and it’s so pretty too,” For that he received a half hearted glare that was dampened by the way he could feel the man leaning into his touch as his fingertips scratched lightly again his scalp. The twin smiled, his boyfriend really lost his filter when he was this tired.

Gone were the biting remarks and cold expressions, leaving him far more pliant than he would ever admit to. Hell, here he was, letting Atsumu play with his hair and letting out little sighs of contentment. His eyes were even gradually falling closed as he relaxed into his boyfriend’s touch.

The harsh lines of his face were softened by the low light in the bed room, and with his brows uncreased by any worries and his hair pooled around his head like a dark halo, he looked almost angelic. Like something out of one of those fancy paintings.

“Yer so pretty Omi,” Atsumu murmured absently, the words falling from his lips easily. It was a statement to him. A simple truth of life.

The sky was blue, volleyball was the best, and Atsumu’s boyfriend was a damn masterpiece.

This was only proved further when his cheeks began to warm, the pink flush only complimenting smooth skin and pouty lips, twitching down into a petulant frown despite his flustered state.

“Shut it,” he mumbled in reply, unable to come up with a proper comeback in his half asleep state. Atsumu smirked. Another thing he loved about sleepy Omi was his inability to disguise any of his reactions. It always made messing him even more fun.

“Omiiii, Yer so cute m’gonna dieeeeee,” he teased, leaning down to admire his expression more closely. The new angle let him see the minuscule twitch of the corner of his lips, a sign that his adorable boyfriend wasn’t really as grumpy as he was trying to appear, “Aw is that a smile I see?” Said boyfriend had abandoned all hopes of reading his book in favor of moving off of Atsumu’s lap and onto his side of the bed, laying back and closing his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Atsumu,” he stated, his voice still managing to stay level and unaffected, a true testament to Sakusa’s insane amount of self control, “Now its late, let’s go to sleep,” Too bad Atsumu was too much of an asshole to let him be. And, he knew him well enough to chip away at that carefully crafted mask until his boyfriend was puddy in his hands.

Miya pouted and moved closer, letting his right hand come back up to rest in his curls again and the other land at his back, rubbing slow circles into it the way he knew Sakusa liked.

“Oh c’mon baby don’t be like that, I just want ta see that gorgeous smile of yers,” he let his chin rest on Kiyoomi’s shoulder, pressing close to his back as his arm trailed down to wrap around his waist. He placed a light kiss against his boyfriend’s temple. The first in a trail that led down his cheek to his jaw and then took a detour down and up his neck to reach his ear again, earning soft sighs and hums as he went. Atsumu smiled, his Omi really was sweet like this: All peaceful and relaxed and unassuming, “Do me a favor and lemme see it?”

He shifted from kissing at his neck to mouthing lightly and letting his lips graze the expanse of soft pale skin at his disposal and the reaction was immediate, even if Sakusa tried to hide it. Sure, he stayed quiet, but Atsumu could feel the shivers that ran through him when he started and how his shoulders began to shake the longer he went on. He felt him jump when he let the fingers at his waist trace lazy shape into his toned stomach.

“Atsumu-“ His name was rushed out in a breathy way that only Atsumu got to hear.

“Yes Omi?” He purred, directly into his boyfriends ear, savoring the little squeak that came from the man shaking in his arms.

“N-no,” he whined, actually whined, shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of the tingly sensations that were quickly perforating his sleep addled mind and making him want to give into the bouncy feeling rising in his chest.

“Why not Omi? M’just tryin ta kiss ya?” He followed his movements easily, continuing the playful torment of his boyfriend.

“You- you know exActly whehy not!” The squeak was louder this time and Kiyoomi even let a few titters loose as Atsumu started using his other hand to lightly scribble at the other side of his neck while simultaneously blowing into his ear.

“Ooh was that a giggle there Omi? What’s happenin’ baby? Somethin’ funny?” Atsumu knew that if he could, Sakusa would be griping about the teasing and how this whole thing was immature and unfair. For now though, he was too busy trying (and failing) not to devolve into a ticklish mess, so Miya was content.

“Nahaha stahahap yohuhu bahahastard!” He forced out through his giggles. The sound was light and filled with gasping breathes and squeals. Kiyoomi hated it, but it was one of Atsumu’s favorite sounds. Especially when he knew he was the cause of it.

Whether it came from unraveling him like this or timing a sarcastic joke just right, he savored it each time he got to hear it, so he didn’t appreciate it when both ungloved hands flew up to muffle it.

“Hey what’dya do that for?” He asked, his own pout forming on his lips as he leaned up to see his boyfriend’s face. His eyes were squeezed shut again and the flush was even brighter now. What was really captivating though, was the way his whole face seemed to brighten, even with his open mouth smile covered up.

Atsumu couldn’t help but stop and stare for a few seconds before remembering the task at hand. To see that pretty smile for real.

“C’mon Omi, just pull yer hands away or m’gonna haveta resort to extreme measures,” Atsumu increased his effort at leaving barely there kisses along Kiyoomi’s neck, feeling his heart race against his lips when he reached the pulse point. This got a cacophony of muffled squeaks and giggles before he finally gave into instinct and moved one of his hands away to push at his face.

As soon as it came up, Atsumu saw his chance and took it.

The hand that was drawing shivery patterns over sharp hip bones immediately skittered up Sakusa’s side to find its mark just above his ribs, sending the arm crashing right back down with a muffled shriek.

“Pffft phmp uff,” Came the dampened response as the other hand stayed stubborn in its quest to deprive Atsumu of his happiness. He decided to take it up another notch, because despite his tiredness, his Omi-Omi was still able to put up a good fight. He wouldn’t have him any other way: As headstrong as he was talented.

“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” Atsumu leaned back just enough to leave some space between himself and Kiyoomi’s back. For insurance and safety purposes, he threw a leg over his waist to make sure he would fall off the bed.

Then all bets were off.

He started actually scratching at his armpits in tandem with leaving sloppy kisses along his spine and shoulder blades and any other part of his back he could reach at the moment, and the reaction was instantaneous and oh so satisfying.

“Mmmmphhhuhuhuck AtsuhuHU! NaHAHA STAHAP!”

“What babe? Somethin’ wrong?” He made sure to speak against the skin of his back, his words sending ticklish tremors through Kiyoomi as his worst spot was attacked.

“NOHOHOT THEHERE AHATSUHU!” Something seemed to switch off in his brain as his arms finally fell limp at his sides and he threw his head back against the pillows, laughing fully now. When they did, Atsumu immediately toned it down, abandoning his underarm in favor of leaving feather light scratches down the sides of his boyfriend’s back, making him shiver and keeping him caught up in his giggles without torturing him too bad.

Omi could never say that he was anything but nice about this....Well at least at this particular moment. Sakusa definitely kept a dated list of the times that his boyfriend had ruthlessly abused this specific weakness, but that was besides the point.

“Ahatsuhuhu,” Atsumu looked up at the sound of his name falling from upturned lips and found himself mesmerized by the sight.

Now that Kiyoomi had given up on stopping him he’d shifted to flop down on his stomach, bracing his head on his arms as he tried to contain the shaky laughter still spilling easily from his mouth. His hair was tousled from the struggle and his eyes were teary from laughing so hard and he was in an eternal state of flushed and fuck he was beautiful.

Too pretty for his own good. And Atsumu’s. At this rate, he was gonna die before he got to the Olympics.

He could just see it now: Miya Atsumu, beloved son, brother, boyfriend, and teammate. Cause of death: Seeing his godlike boyfriend laugh his heart out.

Shit, ‘Samu was right, he was whipped.

“Tsuhuhuhumuuu, m’tired,” Whiny giggles followed by a familiar yawn brought him out of his thoughts and he let his fingers slow to a stop, moving up in the bed to be beside his still giggling boyfriend. He turned him over onto his back before placing his book onto the nights stand and turning out the light.

“A-asshole,” Sakusa groaned, through breathy pants, giving him a half-hearted shove as he turned to face the blonde.

“But ya love me,” he teased moving in closer to lay his head on the dark haired man’s chest, listening patiently as his heartbeat finally started to slow down.

“You suck,” he murmured in response, his tone empty of any real malice. Plus, the way he was snuggling closer and lacing their hands together across Atsumu’s waist contradicted his words anyway.

Atsumu smiled and took a final look at his boyfriend before closing his eyes to follow him into sleep. And as a man of a limited vocabulary when it came to most things other than volleyball, his last thoughts prior to drifting off were as simple as they were true: Omi’s so pretty.

[winterscaptain]

roots.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: another one from 2026! aaron retires from federal service this year, at 57. 

words: 2.4k warnings: kids!, missing haley hotchner hours, language

summary: “Every day the increasing weight of years admonishes me more and more, that the shade of retirement is as necessary to me as it will be welcome.” ― George Washington, Farewell Address. au!october 2026

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

SSA Mallory Kagan asks you to outline your career with the FBI - purposefully using your first name instead of using your title. It keeps the students guessing and paying attention. 

Plus, the payoff when they figure out who you are is the best part of the whole lecture. 

“My career at the FBI is more like a big tree than a path or a journey.” 

You look out over the classroom - blue shirts abound - and take a deep breath to center yourself. 

You’re used to giving this lecture with Aaron, but this is your first fall without him, which also means that this is the first academy class who won’t know him in person. 

They’ll only hear tell of the legend SSA Aaron Hotchner was stabbed nine times, lost his wife to a serial killer, and kept going. You know they’ll hear stories about his severity, his general lack of sunniness, hear rumors about the way he laughs with his children, his wife, and nobody else. 

You know the older agents tell stories about you, too. They say you ‘tamed’ Hotch, made him a little nicer. They might even say they’ve seen him smile at you, or they’ve seen you give him hell in public. 

Aaron Hotchner is practically a myth, now, only supported by your reputation, tall tales from academy classes of yesteryear, and his own legacy.

That retired bastard currently sits in your house with your kids, right on his fine behind, very likely falling into boredom-addled insanity. 

“Everything that I am - a parent, a wife, a friend, and an agent - is because of my work with the Behavioral Analysis Unit over the past nineteen years. My unit is my family, and I can’t get rid of them. Just like our own families, we love to hate each other.” 

The room laughs, and you know you have them hooked. 

“Jokes aside, I would encourage you to get to know your colleagues. Each relationship I built within my unit put a root into the ground, made the proverbial tree stronger - to extend the metaphor. I work with very few of the same people I started with, but I feel as steady and supported as I did back when they called us ‘The Elite Eight.’” 

You chuckle a little, clicking through your introductory slide to showcase a photo of the BAU in 2012. You point to each of them as you speak. 

“SSA Emily Prentiss, current unit chief of the Behavior Analysis unit and former head of the Interpol London office, responsible for taking down one of the most prolific international arms dealers in modern history.” 

The room is quiet, a little awestruck, so you add, “She’s a bit of a big deal.” 

They laugh.

“SSA Derek Morgan - you’ll probably hear stories about how he survived the Boston bombing with SSA Gideon in 2005, but don’t worry. He wasn’t there. He was with his momma in Chicago, celebrating her birthday.”

Another laugh. 

You’ve honed this routine over the last five years, knowing what to add, when to pause, what to cut if the students lose interest. 

“That said, SSA Morgan is one of the best profilers I’ve had the pleasure of working with. Today, he’s a consultant for DC Metro SWAT and is otherwise retired.”

Continuing down the line, “SSA Jennifer Jareau - JJ. Former communications liaison for the BAU, State Department, and DoD. She currently serves with the BAU as a profiler. If any of you are interested in PR or media relations, find an opportunity to speak with her about her experience. Her husband, Will, is a detective with the DC Metro Police and has plenty of stories of his own.”

A student raises a hand, and you give her the go-ahead. 

“Sorry for interrupting -“

You stop her. “You didn’t interrupt. You raised your hand. Don’t apologize for taking up space.” 

She smiles a little. “Okay. Um, I’m curious. How many people in your unit are married and/or have children? My understanding is that the work-life balance can be difficult in heavy-travel positions like the BAU.”

“It can absolutely be a challenge.” You look back at the photo. “In the course of my career, six of my colleagues have been or were already married and all of them went on to have children.”

“And you?”

You laugh a little, forgetting you’re alone up here. “Right.” 

The class laughs, and you point yourself out on the slide. 

“I still had my maiden name when this photo was taken, but now I share five children and a last name with SSA Aaron Hotchner.” You throw your thumb at Aaron’s likeness on the screen again for good measure. 

You check in with SSA Kagan to make sure you can share everything you usually do with Aaron present - your marriage was often the punchline of your lectures, letting you toe the line of humor a little farther than you normally would. 

She nods, a little smile on her face. 

“While I wouldn’t necessarily recommend dating your unit chief or marrying your section chief -“ you pause, holding your hands up in surrender to the echo of laughter “- even if they are the same person - you can certainly find the best people without looking too hard.” 

Hands shoot up into the air, but that always happens. It’s around this time people start asking the good questions. The people from their course materials and the people in front of them start to link together. 

They also figure out that you’re Agent Hotchner. That Agent Hotchner - the one married to the Agent Hotchner. 

You look out over the crowd again. “I know you have lots of questions, and I’m happy to confirm or deny any rumors about myself or my family, but,” you pause for dramatic effect. “Hold them for now - you’ll want to know the players before you ask the questions.” 

Hands drop, but pens start moving. You continue down the line, skipping over Aaron. 

“SSA David Rossi, a founding member of the BAU in the late 1980’s. He worked closely with SSA Jason Gideon, developing a database that we use to this day - one that outlines signatures, modus operandi, and victimology of modern serial killers. SSA Rossi is also well-known for his books - ten of them, in fact, that cover what we do in a kind of…” 

You search for a word. 

“Conversational format. He retired a couple of years ago, and is a full-time grandpa to all 16 of the BAU offspring.”

A few scattered chuckles pass through the room. 

“And then we have Dr. Spencer Reid - I could enumerate his degrees, but we don’t have that kind of time. He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, and remains an asset to the BAU in the field today.”��

You click to another slide - a photo of all of you taken a few weeks ago. 

“SSA Matthew Simmons - retired from the United States Army and former member of the FBI International Response Team, or IRT. He’s been with the BAU for ten years now. Like Dr. Reid and SSA Prentiss, he knows multiple languages - which comes in handy.” You look out and raise your eyebrows. “I hope all of you did well in your Spanish classes in high school - you might need it.” 

Another laugh. 

“SSA Luke Alvez and Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia are another pair that come from, shall we say, nontraditional backgrounds. While Garcia is no longer with the BAU, SSA Alvez is also celebrating his tenth year with us this fall.” 

A student raises his hand, and you call on him. 

“Isn’t Penelope Garcia the hacker known as The Black Queen? I learned about her work when I was at MIT.” 

You snort. “Nice way to slip in you went to MIT, there, bud.” You pause, waiting for the ruckus to die down as the student in question turns bright red. “But yes. Her experience was invaluable to our team. Just to keep up, we stole an analyst from the NSA to replace her - nobody else could cut the mustard.” 

You look back, stepping forward and pacing as you speak.”And finally, Dr. Tara Lewis. Formerly working in the FBI Counsel’s office as a forensic psychologist, she joined our team on cases where specific pathologies were in play before becoming a full-fledged member of our team.

“So, as you can see, there are so many varied qualities we look for in profilers, and your own path will be informed by the skills you develop, your temperament, and your dedication to the work itself. There’s no right way to be an agent, and when you leave the academy in five weeks, the whole world of the bureau will be open to you.” 

Clicking back to your introductory slide, you turn to the front of the classroom. “I know all my colleagues well enough to take any questions you may have about their careers and paths through the bureau. For any questions I can’t answer, I am happy to direct you to them with the understanding they may not get back to you due to our caseload. I’ll take your questions now.” 

Hands shoot up into the air, and you specifically call on the student in the back - the one you know has a question about Aaron. 

“So, when you say SSA Aaron Hotchner, you mean the same one that worked the Boston Reaper case for ten years?”

SSA Kagan checks in with you, ready to shut him down, but you call her off. 

“That’s right. SSAs Jareau, Morgan, Prentiss, Rossi, Dr. Reid, Miss Garcia, and I worked that case in its final year as well.” 

“I have a follow-up if that’s okay.” 

You tacitly give him leave to continue. 

“How do you handle cases that get that… close? I know there were considerable...” He searches for the right word. “...challenges. How did you guys deal with that?”  

Good question. 

Returning to the podium, you lean heavily against it, lacing your fingers in front of you. “You’ve all read the Reaper case file, yes? It’s still included in the MCRT training courses?”

There are nods around the room, but you check in with Kagan anyway. 

“The declassified version is covered,” She says. “They’re familiar with the full scope of the case.” 

“Okay. So, as you all know…”

You remind them what happened, from 1998 to 2009, finally landing where the students want you. “And on November 23rd, 2009, Haley Reneé Hotchner was George Foyet’s 40th and final victim. She was thirty-nine years old. And she was my friend.” 

The room is dead silent, all eyes on you, somber and attentive. 

“The case was personal. It became personal because Foyet forced our hands. He attacked Agent Hotchner in his home and then targeted his family. So, the question is, how do we deal with that? Right?” 

Even Kagan’s watching you closely. It’s the first time you’ve covered this case without the rest of your team. In your joint lectures with Aaron, the case is off-limits for questions. She’s never heard you tell the story in your own words. 

You take a breath. “And the answer is… you don’t.” 

There are some confused faces, so you elaborate. “There isn’t anything you can do to push the case away from you - that’s how people get hurt. In the meantime, you make adjustments. Agent Hotchner placed Agent Morgan in an interim unit chief position until the case was over, for the sake of his health and sanity. We chased down every lead, understanding that the faster we caught Foyet, the faster Haley and Jack, Agent Hotchner’s son, could come home.” 

A young woman in front tentatively raises a hand, and you open a hand to her. “Yes?” 

“What happened, you know, after?” 

“We moved on as best we could. Going back to my original point -” 

You leave the podium and take your place in the center of the floor again. 

“- the trust you have in the people you work with can carry you through a great many things. And not all of you will see horror every day - but some of you will.” 

You pause for a moment, hoping this is the part that really sinks in for them. 

“Always have something to come home to. Always have something or someone that brings you peace, that can take you away from the work.” 

+++

You set your things down and walk through the door, immediately accosted by two almost-eight-year-olds and their over-eager little brother. 

“Momma!” 

You haul Elliot onto your hip and kiss Sophia’s head as Caroline burrows into your side. “Hi, darlings! Did you already have dinner?”

Sophia moves to answer, but Aaron’s voice shoots around the corner. “Yes!” 

With a smile, you seek him out, dragging the girls along with you. Lo and behold, Aaron’s at the sink, washing dishes. Isaac’s supervising - sitting on the counter, swinging his feet. 

Aaron gets a kiss on the cheek from you as you pass and he turns over his shoulder, chasing you until you peck him on the lips, Elliot squished between you. Your son squirms, and you set him on the ground to chase after his sisters. Isaac hops off the counter likely off to investigate the happenings before retreating to his room for the rest of the evening.

For once, you’re left alone. 

“How was your lecture?” 

Your arms free, you wrap around him and rest your full weight against his chest as he backs himself into the counter. “Went well. Missed you, though.” 

The corner of his mouth tips up. “Did they ask about Foyet?” 

“Mhmm. It was a good segue into trusting your team and building each other up, knowing when to step back, etcetera.” 

He nods. “Good way to bring it back around. How’s Kagan?” 

“She’s good, loving it, as always.” 

“Think she’s ever gonna retire?” He asks, tucking into your neck. 

You laugh as he presses kisses to the underside of your jaw. “Probably not.” 

Aaron leans back to look at you, bringing his hand to your face to brush over your cheekbone. “Are you ever gonna retire?” 

“Probably not.” 

“What if,” he says, his hands slipping into your back pockets, “you retired in…” He does the math in his head. “Thirteen-ish years and I make it worth your while.” 

“Oh yeah? Worth my while? And you’ll be, what, a hundred years old?” 

His eyes roll so hard you’re sure he could see his own brain. You pull him down for a kiss, but it doesn’t stop him from mumbling, “Give me a fuckin’ break,” against your mouth. 

“Never.” 

+++

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[pillage-and-lute]

The Courting Ways of Wolves

This is Geralt struggling heavily with emotions. He’s a little dumb but he’s got the spirit. Fluff. Geraskier, platonic Yennalt and Yennskier with a healthy side order of Geralt’s brothers and Good Mom! Yennefer, who deserves all the nice things.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Epilogue

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the mountain, and finding Ciri, and tracking down Jaskier and Yennefer both, and dragging them up to Kaer Morhen, Geralt had looked forward to a nice, relaxing winter. His brothers and Vesemir would train Ciri, Yennefer, with whom he had come to an entirely platonic understanding, would recover from Sodden, and he had Jaskier back.

His apology had been poor, and he knew it, but Geralt had rescued him from the clutches of Nilfgaard and had bought him new lute strings and a notebook to boot. 

The strains of Her Sweet Kiss drifted through Kaer Morhen regularly, because his whole family, and yes, Ciri and Yennefer included, kept requesting that damn song. He hated it, Jaskier’s voice broke singing it and his scent was still sad, although less so than it had been the first few times Geralt had heard it.

Amazingly, the sadness had disappeared for the most part after one time, when Jaskier played the song after dinner, Yennefer had looked up from her book and said, cool as an icicle,

“For Melitele’s sake you melodramatic bastard, I’m not dating Geralt and I never want to again.” 

And now everyone seemed to want to hear it. Kaer Morhen’s training had not included music or poetry comprehension, so he was unsure why everyone kept looking at him oddly whenever the song was played. As far as he could tell, it was just another tragic love song. When Ciri started requesting Her Sweet Kiss after supper, and eyeing him while it played, he gave in. He cornered Eskel, the most book smart of the wolves beside Vesemir, who he suspected would be just a bit too acerbic, and asked him what was up. 

“He’s in love with you.”

“He’s not.”

“You’re an idiot,” Eskel said. “And a stubborn one to boot. He didn’t like Yennefer when you two were sleeping together, but they’re the friends now, right?”

“They’re not,” Geralt said, brow wrinkling. This was treading much too far into the realm of human emotions, which Geralt had never been good at, but they snarked at each other all the time still and bickered like children. Eskel rolled his eyes. 

“They are, its just sparring, but with words not swords. You see?” 

That made sense, words were Jaskier’s weapon, and Yennefer’s too, to some extent, and they did both seem to revel in creative insults.

“They’re friends,” Eskel said. “Now that Jaskier isn’t jealous anymore. Do you see where I’m going with this?” He could apparently tell from Geralt’s expression that, no, he did not know where Eskel was going with this. 

“Her Sweet Kiss is about Yennefer, who Jaskier thinks you love, and it’s about you, who Jaskier loves, and it’s about him, when he says ‘I’ as in “I am weak, my love’. My love is you, do you understand?”

It was dawning slowly in Geralt’s mind that he had definitely missed this, rather spectacularly, because now it was very, very obvious. He was glad he hadn’t gone to Vesemir, who would probably have given him a cuff ‘round the ear for being stupid, and it would have been deserved. 

Eskel, always so much better at reading emotions said, “Ah, you’ve got it, good. Now, what are you going to do about it.”

“I don’t know.” 

Eskel rolled his eyes so hard that Geralt hoped he detached a retina. “Of course you don’t.” His voice softened. Eskel had always been the one Geralt turned to for emotions. He knew Geralt didn’t get them, but wanted to understand and tried so hard that it hurt. Apart from a fair amount of good-natured ribbing, he always helped Geralt with the trickier bits of the human (or mutant) heart.

“Let’s start small, do you love the bard?”

That wasn’t small. That was a very, very big question, but Eskel had settled back in his chair and looked prepared to wait for Geralt to figure out the answer.

Did he love the bard? Geralt didn’t have anything to compare it to except Eskel and Lambert, and it certainly wasn’t like that. Except sometimes it was, like Eskel, Jaskier helped Geralt with reading when his head flipped the letters all around. Like Lambert, Jaskier fought anyone who insulted Geralt. But those were the actions of someone who loved Geralt, that was how Geralt could know (or could have known, if he’d been paying better attention) that Jaskier loved him. But how to know if Geralt loved Jaskier, not as a friend, but like a ballad, like the ‘my love’ in the song. But Geralt did love Jaskier like a ballad, because the songs always compared some lady to a bunch of other things. Geralt did that. He saw bright silks in a market and thought of Jaskier, if there were buttercups on the side of the road he thought of Jaskier, he heard a lute and thought of Jaskier, washed his hair and thought of Jaskier. Everything in his life made him think of Jaskier. 

And it wasn’t like seeing a goat headbut a farmer and thinking of Eskel and his goat from hell. It was also not the same as using a bomb and thinking of Lambert. Those were everyday things, as commonplace as thinking of Vesemir’s training. 

“I love him.”

“Yes,” Eskel said, “You really, really do. Now you just have to court him.” He sat back as if satisfied with a job well done. 

“Right, and how do I do that?” 

Eskel looked stumped. “I don’t know,” he said. Courting wasn’t part of the Kaer Morhen curriculum. 

“Do we ask Lambert?” Geralt asked, feeling a little panicky because now that he realized he loved the bard he wasn’t about to not court him.

“Of course not, he’s the least romantic bastard in existence,” Eskel said, rubbing a thumb over the scarred part of his lip.

“Not true, he reads romance novels,” Geralt said, proud to introduce this new and frankly hilarious bit of information.

“No.” Eskel’s eyes were wide.

“I found it in his pack last week, when I was looking for a sharpening stone, it had a picture of a lady in a torn dress and a shirtless man almost kissing, and the title said Tortured Hearts.”

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“I’m not,” Geralt said huffily, “I read a bit of a page too and it mentioned a lot of throbbing.”

Eskel cackled and, over come with mirth, fell from his chair. That set off Geralt and they both howled with laughter, wiping a few stray tears from their eyes when they heard the door creak open. 

It was Lambert.

That set Eskel off again, which made Geralt laugh too, and Lambert just stared at them. 

“Did you two get into the vodka again?”

“No,” Eskel said, righting himself in his chair, “We were just discussing your reading habits.”

Lambert turned pale, then pink, then pursed his lips and turned up his nose haughtily. “Shows what you two know about literature. It’s a fine way to pass the time.” His cheeks were still a bit pink.

“All jokes aside,” Geralt said, when he’d stopped snorting, “I need to know how to court the bard.”

“Ah, finally pulled your head from your arse then?”

“It was me that did the pulling,” Eskel said. Lambert sprawled onto the couch next to Geralt. 

“Of course you did,” he said. “What you gotta do,” he paused. “No that’ll never work.” Geralt scowled at him.

“No really,” Lambert said, “It’d never work.”

“Try me.”

“Lambert, c’mon, we’re really stumped,” said Eskel.

“Well...”

“Yes?” said Geralt, leaning towards him a little. 

“In the books the man always writes her a poem, to proclaim his love, you know? Or failing that he writes her a letter, all curly writing, maybe some pressed flowers.”

“Oh,” said Geralt.

“Oh,” said Eskel. “Yeah you’re right that’s really not gonna work.”

“Jaskier’s all courtly,” Geralt said. “So I should do it, you know, courtly.”

“Ciri’s royalty,” Lambert said. “She might know, and Yennefer spends a bunch of time with nobles. They could help.”

“You said his family’s kind of old fashioned,” said Eskel. “Vesemir’s really old too, so he can help.

And that was how everyone in Kaer Morhen, except Jaskier, who had been distracted by Vesemir showing him a room with a nice echo, met in the library to begin plan Court the Bard. Eskel was scribbling ideas onto a sheet of parchment. 

“You should kiss his hand,” Ciri said. “And say please and thank you.” She thought of her grandparents. “And tell him how beautiful he looks when he’s covered in blood.”

“Kill things for him,” Lambert chipped in. “Show’s him how big and strong you are, makes him feel safe.” A few curious eyes turned to him. He shifted uncomfortably. “One of the books was about a hunter and and a dairy maid. He killed a bear for her.”

“Always ask before you hold his hand or kiss him,” Vesemir said, seemingly unfazed by Lamberts reading habits. No reason he should be, Geralt thought, we all know he has a stack of romance novels by his bed. “Take it slow, Geralt, be patient, and put in the work, he was patient for twenty years, repay it now.”

Yennefer spoke up. “You don’t have to stop being sarcastic with him, he likes it, but compliment him too. Tell him how much you like his music. He likes music, so you like music because it makes him happy, understood?”

Geralt nodded.

“Good,” she said. “And dance with him. He’d like that. Also get him flowers.”

“Not just flowers, get him stuff,” Eskel said.

“I bought him lute strings and a notebook,” Geralt said.

Ciri wrinkled her nose. “Yeah but those were apology gifts, these are courting gifts.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Not much,” Yennefer said, “Lute strings and notebooks are good because they’re useful and they show that you know what he needs, but courting gifts should also be more...” she waved a hand vaguely, purple sparks twirling about her fingers.

“Romantic,” Eskel said.

“Pretty,” Ciri said firmly.

“They should be able to show you can provide for him,” Vesemir cut in.

At the end the list was short and confusing, but at least they had a plan. In the spring Ciri would go learn about magic with Yennefer, and Geralt’s heart swelled at the way they both glowed with excitement at the prospect. Geralt would then be back on the path alone with Jaskier and he could court him. 

The list said, in Eskel’s simple, neat hand, Number One, kiss his hand. Number Two, use manners. Number Three, compliment him (his music, his features, how he looks after a battle?) Number Four, kill things and bring them to him. Number Five, bring him gifts that aren’t dead things. There was an asterisk by number five and it said, gifts should be useful, romantic, pretty, and provide for him.

It wasn’t much, but it was a plan. 

That night at dinner Jaskier wondered why everyone kept looking at him and Geralt. He figured he had stew on his face, there was some in Geralt’s hair. Geralt wondered why Jaskier kept swiping his face with a napkin and why Ciri kept pointedly running fingers through her hair. 

He couldn’t figure out all of human emotions, but he was going to defeat courting, once and for all.

[yukipri]

Bad Batch end of season thoughts/ramble, bc it's been a week and I just wanna get it all off my chest...

(end of season spoilers and very disorganized rambling)

First off, I do want to say that I enjoyed watching the show. It fulfilled its primary purpose: entertainment. It was nice having something to look forward to every week, and even though it wasn't quite what I was expecting, it was fun. The animation was gorgeous, I liked all the references and tie ins. I will likely watch it again, and will watch season 2. This is by no means meant to be a hate post.

That being said, it is critical so please just skip if you're not into that!

The thing is...it takes very, Very little for me to love a clone. He doesn't need lines, or a face, or even a name, and the default is that I will love him. He can even be a little bastard, like Slick, and it's fine. I always want to know more about them, and wish they had more screen time and time in general to develop their characters. So given that we were getting 16 (20 eps total if we count TCW S7 pilot arc) centered around these guys, I was expecting to absolutely adore them by the end.

And I wanted to love the Bad Batch, I wanted to love them so damn much, and I tried. But I think one of the reasons why they never fully clicked for me was that their thing seems to be "we're unique, we never fit in, we're outsiders in our own home, among the people who are supposed to be our own family, and so we've found our home with each other."

Which! That's usually a wonderful message, and not a particularly rare or unique one either for stories! I usually dig these kinds of stories!

The problem here is the extremely unique situation of the clones. They are literally created to be identical, brain washed to be uniform. They must conform, or are killed off by their creators, and their conformity isn't a choice in the slightest, but one of fear and necessity.

Their uniformity is something that they are also entirely aware of--it's unavoidable, they're clones. Once out in the real galaxy, they all strive to find and establish unique identities for themselves, struggling against a galaxy that just wants them to be faceless products. It's a shared struggle, and all they have are each other, and their brotherhood is sacred as a result. Shunning unique identity is the opposite of who a clone is--it's what they all want.

So on one hand, it's understandable that the Batch stuck out (when all others who would have also stuck out were culled, when individuality isn't allowed). It's understandable that they would have yearned for the brotherhood shared by the other clones, and when they couldn't have it, they stuck closer to each other. It's even understandable that they would feel bitter, having experienced bullying at the hands of the other clones (but isn't it also understandable that the other clones would feel bitter that the Batch gets special treatment, when their own brothers with less-than-beneficial mutations were taken by the Kaminoans to never return?).

And so we have this batch of clones, who the Kaminoans call "mutated," but also specify that their mutations are "desirable" (implying what happens to mutations that are undesirable...). They have their own unique unit, in which they're able to improvise and act freely with seemingly little to no oversight, so long as they complete their mission. No Jedi to obey, no nat-born officers who look down on them. In fact, they look so different from standard clone troopers that most of the galaxy probably don't even know they are clones. They have their own ship (personalized), they have their own possessions (which we don't really see any other clones have), they have their own barracks (probably also very unique), and they even have access to superior weapons and armor (most of the Batch, minus Echo, seem to be wearing modified Katarn-class armor which is supposed to be for Commandos. we KNOW it holds up better than standard trooper armor).

So I'm sure they had some unpleasant experiences growing up, and I do get it. But at least at "present" end of clone wars, they honestly seem to be living infinitely better than all other clones? They still need to follow orders but they have more freedom, and perhaps most importantly, they have clear uniqueness that is denied almost all other clones. And yes, some of the clones on Kamino bully them, but we've seen NONE of the "regular" clones that we know to be particularly nasty to them, and in fact it's Crosshair who starts it by calling them "Regs."

And how does the Batch respond to this situation? By acting superior. It's Crosshair who says and it believes this firmly, and I do feel that the others are likely mostly influenced by this, but it's also true that Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech don't really deny this either. They don't like the "regs," they do act like they're "better." Poor Echo, who they repeatedly seem to forget is in the room, and who they call "machine" and such...yikes yo

So I guess the point is, I just really struggled to feel sympathetic towards them, and was already on a kinda eh about their premise. They're marketed as "the special clone squad"--and yet they're not nice to the clones I love. I thought that wasn't great, but also hoped that the series would work towards them understanding the other clones better, and I love character development so that woulda been fine--but, nothing. A glance from Hunter at Howzer. Extended camaraderie from Gregor, who I feel they mostly just tolerate for the mission, other than Echo who genuinely cares.

And on top of feeling not feeling particularly sympathetic towards what I saw as a pretty privileged group of clones, the Batch seems to place primary blame of their woes on the "regs" themselves, who again, honestly seem far worse off! There isn't blame directed at the people who demanded the conformity from the other clones in the first place, that made it so the Batch couldn't fit in. The Batch was modified due to the Kaminoans (and implied specifically Nala Se). She's the reason why they don't fit in. And the Kaminoans are also why the other clones have to be so uniform, why they must fight to be people and not products.

Bitterness and pettiness can be fine in characters. But it's frustrating to see in a group supposed to be competent and elite, especially when those feelings have consequences. Sure, it sucks when someone throws a food tray at you. You can throw food back. It's not an equal reaction to feel no remorse when you shoot that guy dead in a blaster fight, when for all other clones, having to kill another clone is one of the most horrible, tragic things that one can do (thanks, Umbara).

Fives was the only clone to actually point a blaster at Nala Se.

We know Omega has deeply personal history with Nala Se. She was Nala Se's personal medical assistant. We see her cry when she takes off her head ornament that matches Nala Se. We know that being back in the lab gives Omega complicated, and probably not entirely positive feelings. But we barely learn more about this relationship, other than these glimpses.

And I get the feeling that to Omega at least, Nala Se wasn't all terrible. If Omega grew up with mostly only Nala Se for company, she had to have gotten her sheltered outlook on life, and her willingness to help others from somewhere. Nala Se intentionally let Omega go, to be "safe."

I think Omega's adorable, and I do like her. But I wasn't able to fully love her to the extent I wanted to, because there was always the fear that she was involved in the creation and implantation of the chips. She knows about them, she would have been positioned to do so. I want to think she would never, and I was hoping the show would reassure us of that, but it never did. We don't actually know how Omega feels about Nala Se, or even the chips and their presence in other clones. Instead, all we know is that Omega doesn't like "regs."

And again, "they call me lab scrubber," and "I helped put (or am complicit in putting) mind control devices in their heads," are kinda, unequal. Again I hope it's not the case. But it definitely kept me feeling uneasy throughout the show.

It really boils down to I don't trust or forgive Nala Se, and the Batch's lack of stance against her and the other Kaminoans, and clear distaste for their other clone brothers, really puts them in a situation that makes it difficult for me to take their side entirely.

And then gosh, Hunter. During Crosshair's whole "you never came back for me," spiel, I couldn't help but think he's kinda right. He had 15 episodes. Sure, it's difficult to get Crosshair back. But they could have done something. They could have done research. We could have had scenes of them wondering where Crosshair is, discussions on how best to find him, even if that discussion ended in, "but we can't risk it right now." They could have grilled Omega for information on the chips, which they really shoulda done either way, but especially since that knowledge is important to understanding what (they thought had) happened to Crosshair. Instead, they just ran every time Crosshair showed up. The show could have done better to show that they cared, and were trying, instead of just, y'know, doing chores for Cid. One, "I kinda miss him," doesn't really count as working on getting him back, at least in my books.

The sole exception to all of this, of course, is Echo. Who really, he works with the Batch fine, he's a former ARC and can more than keep up. Skillset-wise, he fits in well enough. But this season really made me wonder why he's with them at all. Crosshair's revelation and true feelings at the end of the season were no surprise to me, as they're consistent with what we've seen of him from TCW S7. But for Echo, a former "reg" to have to work with someone like Crosshair...even if Crosshair thought Echo was "different" enough to accept him, those are his brothers that Crosshair thinks he's so superior to, and has no issue speaking disdainfully about.

The increasing tension between Echo and Hunter, Echo's interest in helping Rex, in helping other clones, in doing something...I do hope they reach a point where Echo demands they go help, or he's leaving.

They gave Crosshair a chance, despite the fact that his choices were willing. I really hope Echo can convince the Batch to help save the other clones who don't have a choice. Because even if the Batch doesn't consider them their brothers, they're certainly Echo's. They matter just as much as Crosshair, and I really hope season 2 shows it narratively.

To conclude, again I'm interested in seeing what happens next, and I want answers about Omega and Nala Se. I find it interesting that they tied the facility where they took Nala Se in with the scientist dude collecting data on Grogu in the Mandalorian and those cloning labs. All of this is interesting, but at the same time I feel like it's trying to build up to Snoke/Palpatine stuff in the sequels which...I don't care nearly as much about, but who knows, could be neat ^ ^;

I'm okay with, and have made peace with the fact that the Bad Batch probably isn't the "clones-centric" show I wanted, and that they'll continue their own story, and probably continue to not care much about other clones in upcoming seasons. That's unfortunate, but alright. I'm interested enough in their story too.

But at the same time...I can't help but think man, if they have the time and budget to do a season 2, after seeing what was (or wasn't) accomplished in season 1...I wish they'd also make a Rex/Cody/Wolffe/"regular clones" show, because in the end, if you're going to do a "clones show"....that's who I want to see most.

If you got to the end, thank you for reading, and being an ear to my ranting ^ ^; Again this is literally just getting this off my chest. If this take isn't one you agree with, please just ignore. For people who did fall in love with the Batch, I'm happy for you, and regret that it just couldn't happen for me. But, I'm hoping that S2 will change my mind, but we'll just have to see! ^ ^;

[nessinborderland]

The Best We Can

Pairing: Hatter x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Before, death was imminent, yes, but tonight… tonight you got reminded of your own mortality.

Warnings: mentions of death, injury, blood and panic attack

Notes: @hatterstan-shameblog asked: real hype about the way you wrote my boy danma takeru, just the right balance of ‘charming best buddy’ mixed with ‘manipulative rat-bastard.’ like, you really Get Him in a way that makes my heart smile.anyways, if you’ve got the time and the inclination, i’d love to see what you’d do with a little hurt/comfort.****picture it: 3AM, post-game, him and reader (you) sitting on the counter in the beach’s kitchen. taking gulps straight from a bottle of wine, passed between the two of you. trying to ignore the smell of blood drying on your skin.“what do we do now?” you ask.he pats you on the knee.“the best we can.”****y’know, like. bittersweet. a rare moment of vulnerability on his part. just mess me up, friend.

After 84 years, here I am! God, it’s taking forever to go through all your requests, but I can happily say that there are only about 20 one-shot requests to write :) so YEY! Dude, really hope you like this. I’ve been feeling angsty lately so I just took the chance lol. Enjoy <3

Masterlist

Seaside Paradise Tokyo – or the Beach, as your friend decided to call it – is a ghost town at this hour of the night. The few people that live there with you either died tonight or are passed out drunk. But not you two. 

Not after tonight’s game. 

You don’t think you’ve ever experienced something like this – the never-ending feeling that you’re breathing on borrowed time. Before, death was imminent, yes, but tonight… tonight you got reminded of your own mortality. Your head is filled with the fresh memories of multiple people dying in horrible ways, screaming and pleading for either help or mercy as you look down on them. You can’t stop thinking about how you should’ve been one of them, how you should’ve died tonight.

But you didn’t.

And your savior – the man that made the decision to let everyone else die so you could live – is offering you a bottle of port this very moment.

“Earth to Y/N.”

You’re pulled out of your thoughts with a low gasp that doesn’t go unnoticed by your friend, that raises a brow in concern. You accept the bottle without looking him in the eyes and take a gulp of the sweet wine, swallowing without barely tasting its rich flavor. You don’t have to pretend that you’re fine in front of him – not after he saw you desperately cry and have a panic attack just an hour before – but you still can’t force yourself to look at him.

Not after what happened.

“You’re trembling,” he says, voice low, like he’s talking to a wounded animal. His arm goes over your shoulders, and you flinch and slap his hand away on an impulse. You gasp and stare into his wide eyes, a knot forming again in your throat.

“Takeru, I–”

“It’s fine,” he says with a nod, standing up from his seat at the kitchen counter right beside you. There’s a dark expression in his eyes, something you can’t quite place, but that terrifies you beyond belief. You hear him sigh as he turns his back to you for a moment, almost like he’s leaving, before changing his mind and going back to sitting on the counter, now far from you.

You watch him as he grabs the bottle beside you and takes several long gulps, drops of wine running down the corners of his mouth to mix with the blood on his skin and down his chest. That makes you look at yourself, skin specked and covered in blood that is not your own. You let out out a muffled sob, eyes filling with tears that you thought you had run out of.

He doesn’t get close to you this time, and you’re not sure if you hate or appreciate the gesture. Probably both. He only looks at you when you start crying again – pathetic whimpers that you force yourself to stop. His gaze is soft but his mouth is set in a hard line, and you turn your back to him as you try to calm down, ashamed of your reaction.

You stop crying soon enough and accept the bottle of wine when he offers it to you again – this time appreciating the alcohol as it sets in your stomach – feeling yourself relax almost instantly. 

Time goes by where you just sit in silence, sharing the wine between you until that bottle is empty and he opens another.

“He’s mad at you, you know?” you ask, remembering the moment Aguni woke up to find you all covered in blood and you freaking out to the moment of almost passing out. He had been hit in the head so badly that he was bleeding profusely by the time he hit the floor. You thought he was dead for a moment until Takeru shook you out of your trance and got you three out, killing and sacrificing everyone else in the process.

“Let him be mad,” Takeru says with a shrug, “He has to realize eventually that we can’t save everyone. Not here,” you say nothing in response, handing him the bottle. He accepts it, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “Are you...mad at me?”

“... No.” you hesitated for a moment, but it’s the truth. You’re not mad, you just… wish things were different. Wish you weren’t there, forced to play games and either kill or be killed. You wish you were back home. You wish your friends were not forced to change.

You wish, wish, wish.

“Do I scare you?” he asks again. This time you take a little longer to reply, but decided to give a negative answer. He chuckles – a dry, humorless sound – that resembles nothing of the Takeru you once knew, “You were never good at lying, were you?”

You sigh and shake your head before sliding down the counter next to him. Your thigh is touching his thigh, and you don’t hesitate to lean your head against his shoulder, proving to him that no, you’re not afraid of him.

“You don’t scare me,” you whisper, almost like you’re telling him a secret, “I’m just scared. All the time. I’m scared for me, and I’m scared for you, and I’m scared for Mori. I just- I wish this was all a nightmare.”

“I’m scared too,” he leans his head on top of yours and hands you the bottle. That’s when you notice that his hands are slightly shaking, “I also don’t want anything to happen to us. That’s why I did what I had to do. You can both be mad at me all you want, but I still wouldn’t change a thing.” he waits until you drink a gulp before taking the bottle or himself, “We’re alive because of me.” he says, before finishing the bottle.

“What do we do now?” you can feel tears threatening to fall as you interlock your arm with his, wanting to feel closer. His trembling hand taps your knee, and you feel as he takes a deep breath and stops shaking.

“The best we can,” he says, “As long as we’re alive, nothing else matters.”