#you want a bigger/smaller ass??? cool i hope you can get that lined up for you!!!

[thatdemiboymess]

Hey. Hey, listen to me. There's no shame if you want plastic surgery or any other cosmetic procedure. Do you hear me? It's your body, and it is your choice, and if you want to change the way you look for any reason then that is up to you. Your body. Your choice. Ok?

[mostofthingsmostofthetime]

I just finished the first episode of Heartstopper, so here are some of my thoughts in no particular order.

The opening song is cool (will probably look up the shows soundtrack like I did with XO, Kitty).

Why did the camera focus so much on Charlie's bag & Elle's drink? Is it product placement?

Wow, no hate to the actor, but Charlie's eyebrows are THICK!!!!

Tori is beautiful but also kind of looks like a ghost (I think she’d be great for the role of  Violet Baudelaire from A Series Of Unfortunate Events) & why was she so pushy about the "dream guy" thing? Like let the poor boy breathe.

Is Nick's actor that much taller than Charlie's? I hadn't noticed.

I’m sorry, but knees are so weird to me lol. Also obligatory, 🎵 she's a runner she's a track star🎵.

Wait, is that PE teacher that will later interrupt the team theorising about Nick & Charlie's relationship? It's crazy how they’ve found actors who look so much like the characters in the graphic novels (other casting directors should take notes).

Ok fair enough about wanting your team to be good & wondering if the quiet, skinny, nerdy, boy is even into sports but the shit about him being gay is so stupid (bet it was Harry that said that).

Glad Charlie didn't get injured learning rugby, lol.

Nick's shorts seem a lot smaller than Charlie's ones do, but maybe that's the costume designer's way of helping Charlie’s actor look more skinny?

Omg Stephen Fry, what are you doing here lol?

Wow, people weren't kidding. Olivia Colman really did show up just to say one line. What a legend, lol.

Ben, did you really make Charlie walk all that way for such a lame ass kiss? Also, let him talk about his Christmas, you jerk!

I don't think that Form tutor is very good at his job (while Nick thankfully turned out to be nice) it’s usually not a great idea to put the skinny, gay, nerd that has already been bullied with the bigger, popular, seemingly straight, athlete, especially at an all boys school!

Ben, you dick. Like I get wanting to keep your relationship secret, but you did not need to pull the 'who the hell are you!' card. All you had to do was say hi in a confused/uninterested tone (then apologise later). If anything, your reaction came off more weird than what Charlie did.

I'm sorry, but I don't get the leaf animation. I mean, I GET it, just why leaves? Why not flowers or hearts or something? It just doesn’t seem that impactful to me, but maybe they have a deeper meaning that I'm just not grasping yet? If so, please let me know.

Ok, so I'm torn over the gay teacher. Like artistic? That's cool. Those glasses? Cute. Him giving Charlie a safe space to eat lunch? Great. Him being worried over Charlie potentially being bullied again? Awesome (take notes, Form guy), but his advice to Charlie seemed slightly lacking. Obviously, honesty & communication are important in relationships, but I'm a little surprised that possible safety concerns weren't addressed at all, especially from a fellow gay guy. Like I get that he doesn’t know the kind of guy Charlie's "dating" & that just because someone doesn't want to come out yet doesn’t mean they should be labelled as dangerous but internalised homophobia can make some people lash out & after everything Charlie's been through his clearly more likely to be vulnerable to situations like that.

Nick is a golden retriever in human form, they're 100% correct 😊.

Isaac? What happened to Aled? I hope he still shows up. He may be quiet, but he was so cute during Charlie's 15th birthday in the graphic novel.

Interesting to get to see Elle's time at Higg's (fuck that transphobic teacher & whoever was throwing sandwiches at her). Sad she doesn’t have any friends but I'm sure that'll change when she meets Tara & Darcy. Wow, is it strict over there, though, like you can't even be on your phone at lunchtime? Damn! Surprised they did it this way, though, as I was assuming they'd just make Truham co-ed so all the characters could be in the same place.

Tao, my guy, the drink thing is sweet but that hair is.....certainly.....a choice 😅.

The shots of Charlie looking at food, without eating, make me ☹️.

I gotta be honest, the montage of Nick & Charlie saying hi to each other was a little cringy to me compared to how it came across in the graphic novel, but they're meant to be teens, so I'll let it slide. It's also an effective way to highlight how differently Charlie's "boyfriend" treats him compared to an acquaintance.

Ben's hand covering up Nick's smiley face got me like ☹️/😠. They're not even together yet & I already felt like telling him to get off Charlie, like that boy is not for you! It’s ridiculous, lol.

Ben what you did was fucked up but it's hard to be scared of someone who looks so much like a meerkat in a wig (no hate to the actor) also did it seem like he just....skidded away when Nick pulled him off Charlie? Like, was the actor wearing Heelys lol? Or had someone just mopped the floor without telling anyone? Also, it's lame to wear a coat when you're cold? What in the toxic masculinity are you fucking on about Ben?

Omg the bathroom scene was so adorable, but I wanna know what kind of pen Nick was using because being covered in that amount of ink is crazy 😆.

Overall, it's very cute. I like Nick & Charlie. It’ll probably take a bit longer for me to really care about the other characters. Ben can catch these hands! And I’m looking forward to watching the Narlie relationship develop.

So while not overly ground breaking (though obviously important for LGBTQ+ rep) it's definitely enjoyable in a comforting sort of way which (considering medias fascination with marginalised suffering) is obviously important for queer youth but also must be quite healing for queer elders. Because you deserve wholesome, cheesy, romance just as much as anyone else.

[dark-elf-writes]

I submitted something similar to Ray for the team uzumaki au but now I’m hopping it was eaten by tumblr just so there isn’t a weird cross post double thing. BUT we’re talking foxy naruto so-

According to some people’s stories, foxes have been known to leave gifts for people much like crows (the sources are first hand accounts so idk if this is true or an accurate reflection of fox mannerisms). So I’m just picturing Naruto leaving pretty rocks, animal bones, buttons, weapons, etc for his team. But since it’s Naruto of course it’s not normal versions of those things. So the “shiny rocks” are probably literal crystals and diamonds that he somehow just finds (and normal ones too cuz that’s adorable ), the “animal bones” could include giant ass teeth that are big enough to be made into daggers/swords, the buttons could be like golden cuff links he nicked from on a mission, and the weapons could be anything from old ninja wire he found in a bush to like a legendary blade he found washed up on the shore (Uzushiogakure vibes who?).

As another foxy Naruto thing, I firmly believe he would have an inexplicable urge to feed his team all the time, but not just ramen or their personal favorite foods. He wants to give them food that’s part of a foxes diet. One day he just finds himself foraging for berries and hunting for fresh meat. But since he’s a whole lot bigger and more capable than a regular fox at hunting, his prey is a bit…larger than you’d expect. Later that day, he straight up drops a field dressed bear or something at team 7’s feet look Proud (tm) cuz oh yeah he is so good at keeping his teammates feed and kakashi (who I always head cannon as being both wolfy and entirely incapable of being truly surprised) is like thanks brat you mind if my ninken have some?

Tumblr do be eating things. But they would still be different enough even if Tumblr didn’t eat it.

Akkskshsb at first none of them (well two do them really) have no idea where all the little gifts are coming from. Sakura finds flowers and crystals and kunai lined up on her window sill every morning like clockwork. She pretends to be annoyed by it but she has the first flower, the first gift, pressed and preserved. Sasuke gets more weapons than anything else, but occasionally he’ll get a cool rock. His favorite that he will never admit is a red stone with black marks. It sits by his bed and makes him feel a little less alone.

Kakashi knows. Naruto isn’t the first Uzumaki he’s known. Not the first fox hissed in human skin. Kushina was the same way. The first gift, fresh meat on his counter, one large piece and several smaller ones cut for the ninken, isn’t so much of a surprise as it is a gut punch. A memory. It takes some getting used to, seeing them again. Being claimed. He’s not a kit anymore. Not Kushina’s grumpy little wolf cub, but her son has claimed him all the same.

(The meat tastes like guilt and, perhaps cruelly, hope)

I can see the providing thing being really prevalent when they’re out of the village on missions. Like the first night on their trip to wave Naruto just plonks down a fresh kill with a sharp smile and eyes glinting in the low light and Kakashi has to step in before one of the others could say something to discourage this. They always eat well when they’re out as a team.

(Naruto remembers what it’s like to be hungry. He’ll make sure his people don’t have to feel the same.)

[duskamethyst]

stranger danger.

a/n: did i sit on top of my car to imagine this? sure did. a part of the jujutsu hub collab! thank you vee @suna-reversed for organizing this horny event for us horny people.

word count: 3.8k

genre: smut, nsfw, pwp

warnings: dubcon, literally dumbass porn, degradation + praising kink, daddy kink, gun play, mentions of alcohol consumption, dui and death, public sex, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, implied kidnapping

pairing: criminal!toji x f!reader

summary: dozing off in a parking lot seems dangerous but it seems like the right thing to do. that is, until a mysterious man taps on your window.

you shouldn’t have trusted yourself. you’ve vowed to yourself not to drink tonight, especially when you were driving to the city by yourself. maybe one drink wouldn’t hurt, you thought. but that one drink led you to another until you eventually found yourself light headed and could barely walk in a straight line let alone drive home.

so now you decide it’s best to just stop in a random parking lot and doze off for a couple of hours until you’re certain that you’re sober and ready to continue your journey back home. thankfully the lights are on and there are a few other empty cars in the lot, giving you somewhat a sense of security.

even though you aren’t completely sane at the moment, you make sure the doors are locked, turn off the engine and roll your windows down slightly to allow ventilation. if you could avoid a possible car crash, might as well avoid dying from inhaling some fatal gas. so you push back your seat and close your eyes to let sleep take you over.

but it isn’t for long until you hear a knock on the window.

startled and confused, you instantly get up thinking it would be one of the securities patrolling the area, telling you to scram but you’re only met with a rather handsome man, tall and brawny standing next to your car.

he leans down to your eye level and glares at you intimidatingly before he speaks, “get out.”

in such a panicky situation, your heavy cluttered brain doesn’t really tell you what to do nor what the hell is happening so you only stare back at him tongue tied, unable to properly gauge the situation thanks to both chemicals in your system and adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“are you deaf?” he snarls with anger distorting his face.

the sharp eyes piercing through you coupled with the discernible scar on his lips go so well into his menacing demeanor and you’re aware he’s getting impatient. unsure of what to do, your hand reaches for your keys to turn on the engine, thinking it’s best to leave but he bangs on the window as if to tell you that isn’t what he wanted.

“i only told you to get out. so, get the fuck out. now.” toji waits for you to comply, but instead you just sit there frozen and he sighs in exasperation. “look, i have a fucking gun. and if you don’t do as i say, i won’t hesitate to shoot your brains off. you don’t need it anyway, right?”

toji fishes out his gun, waving it in front of you in warning. “and you’d be fucking dumb to think it isn’t loaded.”

the threatening sight of the firearm is finally what makes you unlock your doors and he immediately swings the door open and pulls you out from your vehicle by the wrist. toji eyes you up and down, taking a special interest in the mini skirt you don with a filthy smirk across his face. he peeks inside the car briefly, delighted over the fact that you’re all alone in the middle of the night– in some deserted parking lot, no less.

“where were you from?” he suddenly asks with less gruff in his tone. the eyes raking up and down your smaller frame so flagrantly makes you feel small and vulnerable.

you lick your lips to return moisture lost to parched skin as your eyes shift from his gun to his face. “a party.”

“a party, hm?” he does a double take on your whole skimpy outfit, sending a plethora of titillating thoughts to run in his head and waking up his primal instincts. he hasn’t gotten his dick wet for a while and opportunities don’t come by so easily when he’s a man on the run. he’d have to be an idiot to let this chance slip through his fingers.

“must’ve put a lot of thought on your outfit tonight. why don’t you give me a little twirl?”

toji deliberately taps the gun on the side of his thigh, reminding you what could happen if you either scream or run. getting the hint, you decide to entertain him, knowing well that you could end up with a bullet in any part of your body if you try to escape.

but do you oppose the idea of a sickeningly attractive man trying to check you out with a weapon in his hand? not really. if anything, the alarming nature of the affair only gives a delicious thrill to your already messed up nerves.

his predatory gaze is fixed on your voluptuous curves and the little sway of your hips as you gracelessly turn around in your heels, making blood rush straight down to his cock before telling you to stop.

“get in front of the car.” he urges.

“huh? why?”

toji cocks the loaded gun in front of you, his expression turning stern and serious once more. “no talking, just do it.”

you walk towards the front with the gun behind your head, careful not to miss your step until you’re facing your car.

“hands on the hood.” he demands, dark eyes silently watching you do as you’re told like a well-trained dog.

you’re certain he can see your ass cheeks peeking underneath the hem of your skirt as cold air hits your skin. the thought of a pair of eyes staring you down hungrily forms an anticipative knot to pull tightly in your stomach as your mind wonders about the dirty things he might and could do to you.

the next thing you feel is the cool metal of the barrel under your skirt, making you shudder as it caresses your puffy folds before dragging upwards to hike up the hem of your unbearably short skirt in favor of checking your panties but oh, what a delightful surprise– not a single thread underneath it all.

“no panties?” he bites back a groan when he notices the glistening slick coated around his black gun. “don’t tell me you’re getting off to this?”

“‘m not–” you deny meekly despite the blossoming heat between your thighs growing bigger when you feel the tip of the barrel against your drenched cunt again.

“don’t lie. you’re a little slut aren’t you? went to a party without your panties on– something tells me you’re an attention whore.” he mocks, poking the gun against your entrance only to observe your little squirms.

“not a slut!” you whine giddily as you spontaneously grind against the long barrel in seek of relief for the dull ache that has formed in your core.

“no? you’re gonna tell me you’re not jerking off to my gun right now?” he chastises with a satirical smile on his lips, feeling his cock harden even more from watching the way you’re eagerly rubbing against the gun he currently holds in his hand.

“i– i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you try not to let your words slur as you play coy, even when breaths are already hitching in your throat.

“oh yeah? ‘cause that cunt is positively leaking right now.” you whimper at his words, being bad and filthy never felt so good– especially to a man you don’t even know. “bet you want me to fill that needy cunt.”

“mhm!” you mewl, gyrating your hips even more salaciously once you manage to find an angle to rub your sensitive clit, sending waves of sensations to every fiber and nerve in your body.

“now that’s an honest little slut.” he coos with amusement lacing in his voice. “why don’t you beg for it?”

you tilt your head back towards him, bottom lip jutting out into a cute pout and eyes pleading. “please..?”

toji lets out a huff, “not good enough, sweetheart.”

your eyes narrow at him, hoping he can read the desperation in them as you call him in the softest mewl that you've used to numerous guys before. “daddy.”

“hmm?” he strokes your clit by rubbing the gun back and forth and watches you quiver with a lopsided grin across his face.

“w-want– need your cock, daddy.” you pant in a shameless expression of your need for him.

“what do you need daddy to do to you, pretty girl?” he studies the barrel, now smeared with your slick.

“need daddy to fuck me– fuck my little tight cunt.”

toji draws his gun away and raises it at the back of your head. “then, get on your knees.”

you don’t need to be told twice as you instantly turn around and face him, the gun now pointing directly to your forehead and follows you even until you’re already kneeled in front him.

“you went a little too fast there, didn’t you?” he chuckles, the sound is smoky and alluring. “so eager. now, take off my pants.”

your hand reaches up to unbuckle his belt and undo his button before pulling the zipper down and tugging off his pants and briefs hastily. your mouth waters at the sight; his thick cock is already throbbing, tip flushing red and leaking precum with a prominent vein on the underside – causing you to quickly disregard the life-threatening weapon in front of your head.

seeing you blatantly gawk at him causes pride to spiral in his chest, as if you’ve never seen a dick before. but is it bad for toji to assume that you've never seen a dick as big as his?

“getting nervous now?” he teases. “fuck that. put it inside your mouth.”

toji exhales sharply once your tongue carefully licks off the salty pre on the tip, rousing him further with only kitten licks until the barrel nudges your head in warning, forcing you to stop your ministrations.

“are you asking to get a hole through your head?” he scowls, showing apparent irritation.

“no.” you answer meekly.

“then? i told you to put it inside your fucking mouth.”

“‘m sorry, daddy.” you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and give it a few pumps up and down his shaft in hopes to please him and calm him down. “promise i’ll be a good girl.”

“then stop fucking around.”

without a second to waste, you wrap your lips around his cock and hollow your cheeks, squeezing and milking his cock with your tongue and throat as your head bobs up and down. you graze your tongue on the underside and slowly drag upwards, following the curve of his vein before giving a harsh suck on his tip, drawing out a loud groan from his throat.

“look at daddy.”

and you do, fixing your gaze with his darker ones as you slobber his cock with so much drool and you relax your throat in order to force yourself down to the base, devouring him whole even as he tilts the gun next to your head.

“wish i had my phone right now. you should see how you look.” his other hand reaches the top of your head, holding you in place and causes you to choke slightly before jerking his hips forward and begins to fuck your throat.

squelching noises resonate in the silent air, mingled with his grunts. drool starts to seep from the corners of your mouth and tears begin to well up in your eyes as his heavy balls slap against your chin.

“boys must really love you, hm?” you can feel the tension in his fingers as he puts monumental effort into restraining himself and he finally draws his gun away. “just taking it like a good girl.”

you can only whimper around his cock, the praise making you feel hotter that you find your hand between your thighs to push a finger inside your wet cunt.

“fuck– yeah, keep touching yourself like that.” he growls, the sound rumbling in his chest as the vibrations from your muffled moans are slowly sending him to the brink of an orgasm.

you’re too immersed by your own finger pumping in and out to even care about the ache that has formed on your jaw but the moment you feel his cock twitching, you both know it won’t be long until he breaks down.

“you’re gonna swallow all of it. got it?” he states more than questions, feeling his balls tightening as he starts to lose the last remaining control he owns.

you hum in response and flutter your eyes close and you wait until his hips still before he spurts thick ropes of cum down your throat, invading all your senses with the bitter taste of his load.

once he has emptied, you pull away with your tongue gliding along his length, not forgetting to lick off the sensitive slit to clean off any remnants.

“open your mouth.” he demands. you part your puffy lips and stick your tongue out, showing your obedience to his prior order and a delightful smirk makes its way on his face upon seeing that you’ve downed every drop of his cum. “good girl.”

“to be honest, i didn’t think you’d cum quickly.” you blurt out bluntly.

his brows furrow and his face contorts into a scowl. “‘fuck did you say?”

you shrug nonchalantly. you don’t know where it’s coming from either– the alcohol still lingering in your veins or the fact that you feel beyond proud that you’ve made him, some guy who claimed that he wanted to rob your car cum so fast. “well, all the guys told me i give the best head but none of them ever–”

“get up. face the car.”

toji clicks his tongue as you blink at him in confusion and he grabs your arm to pull you up on your feet before spinning you around and bending you down on the hood with his body pressing against your back. you swallow nervously when you feel a nudge against your ass, his dick is still hard despite the fact that he has cummed just a minute ago.

“you’re gonna regret that. once i fucking ravage that little cunt, you’re gonna be begging for me to cum quick.” he leans down to your ear as he threatens, sending shivers up and down your spine.

“i’m sor–”

“no. i won’t give a shit if it hurts you or when you cry for me to stop.”

toji gives a harsh smack on the plump flesh, making you jolt in surprise. with your hands down on the hood, he lifts up one of your knees on top of the car, causing you to spread wide open in an instant before he impatiently pokes the tip of his cock against your pulsating hole.

“but that’s what you want, right?”

your eyes roll back, lips parting in an appreciative squeal as you feel his fat cock stretches you out accompanied with a delicious burn when he sinks in deeper.

“mmh– s-so big–!”

“yeah? never had a dick this big before?” toji pulls out almost completely, eyes fixed on the cock glistening with your slick under the street lights, not missing the white cream attached onto the skin.

“n-no– ah–!”

toji cuts you off with one hard slam of his hips, drilling his cock into your tight pussy in a brutal pace while you keen and whimper as it brushes against your walls, each stretch and drag inside you so exquisite while deep crescent shapes of his nails form on your pliant skin as he holds you firmly by the hips for leverage.

“no wonder you’re so fucking tight. stupid boys didn’t know how to fuck you right.” his words thrum in a burst of heat as he growls in your ear, breaking through your every thought.

you tilt your head towards him with heavy lidded eyes and meet his lust addled gaze. your mouth is gaping in breathless moans, tongue slightly lolled out from your lips as you try to reach closer to his scarred lips, wanting to crash your lips onto his before it stretches into a devilish smirk and you feel warm liquid lands on your palate.

“you looked like you were begging to taste my spit.” he mocks. toji watches as you eagerly swallow it down your throat and he lets out a brittle chuckle. “dirty slut.”

your pussy flutters upon hearing how he degrades you, causing you to buck your hips wildly against him in an attempt to meet his thrusts.

“you liked that, didn’t you? i can feel you clamping down on me like a fucking whore.” he derides, fucking you harder and deeper until your world is reduced into nothing but the way he makes you feel completely stuffed and filled, the cockhead kissing your cervix with each deep strokes.

“please– make me cum, daddy–” you keen as pressure pulls taut in your lower stomach, the slick noises are so loud that the both of you can hear them even through your moans.

your body flushes against his, so close together and you can only focus on the sounds of flesh against flesh, the salacious rhythm making you more delirious.

“then, cum for me. let me feel you gush all over me.” toji brings his fingers to rub against your clit, easily tipping you over the edge by pressing tight circles until you find yourself crashing down with an orgasm exploding throughout your body.

“you want more?” he taunts, helping you ride out the aftershock by continuously rutting his hips into your cunt and not giving you the slightest chance to recuperate.

“ah– ‘s too much–” you whimper as soon as the pleasure begins to numb and you clutch onto his wrist tightly to try and pry his hand away from your sensitive clit.

“too much? don’t think that i’m done with you yet.”

toji finally draws away from you, but only turns you around to face him and effortlessly puts you on top of the hood with your elbows propping your weight. with his hands, he spreads and keeps your legs apart before sheathing his cock back inside your pulsing cunt again, completely mindless of your pathetic sobs. he lifts up your top, not surprised over the lack of bra underneath and he intently watches the way your tits bounce with each merciless pound of his cock.

“s-stop– please–” you whimper feebly as you try to shut your trembling legs together but he doesn’t budge and only keeps his grip on your thighs even tighter, stretching out your pussy for him wider.

“fucking take it.”

toji ignores your plea and his head dips low to your chest, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples and starts to flick it with his tongue coupled with harsh sucks until he pulls back with a pop and watches as the nipple stands erect before assaulting the other, swiftly sending sparks of pleasure down to the bundle of nerves.

“might as well keep you around. be my personal fucktoy. would you like that?” he grins up at you to see your jaw slacking, mouth falling in a wide ‘o’ as the burn down your core begins to cease.

“yesyesyes– make me your slut–!” your toes curl, making your heels drop down to the ground while your knuckles turn white from squeezing your hands into balled fists too hard.

“yeah? you’d do anything for a good fuck, huh?” he sneers at you, although he’s fascinated with your state of arousal.

“mhm– need daddy to fill me up with his cum–” your back rests against the car, reveling in the feeling of his cock abusing your swollen cunt like you’re nothing but a sex doll.

“but daddy’s not gonna cum yet. not even when you’re tightening around him like this.” toji slams your hips down closer to him, fucking into you deeper and harder with his heavy balls smacking your ass.

“t-too deep–! daddy, i’ll–” you babble, losing the ability to form cohesive words as you feel a strange knot twisting rapidly in your guts. the feeling is too intense and unbearable– the refined drags of his vein brushing against your spongy walls is anything but agonizing.

“come on. use your big girl words.” he drags out slowly and quickly pumps back into you ruthlessly. “or are you too dumb already?”

“i’m gonna–”

toji lifts up your legs over his shoulders as he leans down closer to you and he nips on your pulse point, causing your body to tense as your hands find home in his dark locks and tight shirt.

as soon as he lets go, your pupils are blown wide as pleasure washes throughout your body and you feel yourself gushing around the cock still buried inside you along with a broken moan from your lips. the release is oddly more relieving than your prior orgasm, making your body feel lighter as your mind ascends to a state of euphoria. you find yourself panting heavily as you squirt all over him, staining his black shirt with clear fluid and with some of it dribbling down to his thick thighs.

“making such a mess on daddy.” he groans as he feels your walls convulse around him rapidly, milking his cock dry and slowly dragging him down to his own high for the second time of the night.

you can only look at him in a cockdaze with no particular thoughts running inside your head, each one formed gone like popping bubbles. your eyes glued onto every bit of his features; the brows furrowed in concentration, the lips parting in grunts, the damp matted hair against his forehead and you drink the sight of it all even when you’re not sure if you’ll remember it all the next morning.

“fuck– it’d be a shame to not cum inside this pretty cunt, right?” his thrusts turn sporadic, dick twitching as a telltale of his pending orgasm that’s soon to crash down over him. he didn’t need to hear your answer as he ruts into you faster, hips stuttering out of control before a low, guttural sound escapes his throat as he shoots hot ropes of cum, flooding into your womb and stuffing you full with his seed.

and once he lets go of your legs you can feel your whole body sore all over, but you can’t bring yourself to care nor whatever is going to happen after this when the man in front of you has given you what you truly wanted and made you feel satiated like you’ve never felt before.

toji pulls out his spent cock and runs a hand through his hair before putting his pants back on. a cocky smirk graces his lips at the sight of your fucked out body, still splayed on top of the hood with his cum dribbling out from your pussy.

he presses your cheeks together with one hand and forces you to look at him, even as your lids are getting heavy to lift.

“i was serious about you being my fucktoy– and stealing your car.” he cackles. “so, do you wanna be in the back seat or do you prefer the trunk?”

duskamethyst © 2020 • all rights reserved. do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

enjoyed this work? wanna buy me coffee? :)

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

Cuddle Bunny Pt 2

Pro Hero!Kirishima x reader with a bunny quirk

Kirishima get’s his hand on his bunny. 

tw: smut, yandere, breeding kink, kidnapping, noncon, dubcon, gaslighting, penetration, delusional Kirishima, belly bulge

You struggled to open your eyes as you inhaled the familiar scent of sandalwood and vanilla. You heart rate picked up as you realized you were in a totally unfamiliar environment. Weren't you just at work?

Whoever was behind you had their arms around you to keep you from sitting up.

"Good morning, bunny. How'd you sleep?"

You knew that voice, confirming who was beside you.

Your mouth was dry and your voice cracked as you asked, "Kirishima? What's going on?"

"I picked you up from work last night, you were out like a light."

The pervious night was muddled in your mind but you knew he wasn't telling the truth. He was supposed to be your last client for the night. The two of you walked out of the building around the same time. You politely declined his offer to walk you home. The next thing you remember was sitting on the curb as the world started to spin. Kirishima was talking to you but you couldn't remember what was said.

You took a shaky breath. You had to be brave, besides he was a hero. There was an explanation. You just had to find it.

"Kiri, are you telling me the whole truth?" Your voice was barely above a whisper but you knew he heard you. His arms tensed around you.

"You're such a curious bunny. We can talk more once you're feeling better."

What was he talking about? All you had was a headache, you could hold down a conversation. Confrontation was never your thing. But maybe you could just keep asking him.

You wanted to wrap things up so you could go home before work.

"Can we talk about it later?" You asked. "I have to run home before my shift."

He nuzzled closer to you, "What do you mean, silly? You don't work there any more."

It was becoming harder to contain the panic building inside of you. You struggled harder against his grasp as small tears began to prick your eyes.

"Please let me up. You're scaring me."

Instead of letting go, Kirishima repositioned you too face him.

He looked concerned, "You don't need to be scared, you're safe here. You don't have to go back to that job, it's too dangerous."

/

"Be a good bunny, lift your pretty little tail a bit higher for me."

His hands guided your hips further into the air. Once he deemed you to be in a suitable position you felt him tug down your panties, exposing your slick cunt to the cool air.

You whimpered into the pillow. Your body, betraying your mind, ached to be touched by Kirishima's rough hands.

"You're so beautiful," he cooed. With two fingers he began to tease your delicate folds.

As the pressure in your lower abdomen began to build you tried to pretend that the situation was different. If you could lie to yourself about the position you were in maybe you could hold it together. He was stronger than you, much more athletic, even with out his quirk. Even if you struggled you knew you couldn't escape. You didn't want to risk making him angry. Although he kept repeating that he would never hurt you, how much could you trust the words of your abductor?

You bucked towards him when his thumb pressed against your clit.

Although you couldn't see it Kirishima was beaming with pride. He felt reassured that he was making you feel good. His cock throbbed in anticipation for the moment you both felt good.

But he told himself it wouldn't be manly to enter you with his dick before making you orgasm at least once.

Regaining control of himself he paused his assault on your pussy to rub his hands down your back toward your neck, gently pushing his thumbs against the base of your skull. You letting out a rough whine. Both frustrated with the lost sensation and pleased by the firm pressure against your shoulders.

"Okay baby, let's get you prepped, you're tiny compared to me. Let's get you as ready as we can."

You gasped as his index finger entered you. Pressing and curling against your walls as if to examine and assess the situation.

He continued to use his other fingers on the outside of your pussy. There was a wet noise as he gently thrust his finger in and out, and then with out warning you felt a stretching sensation. He has added another finger to your insides.

"That's it baby, you're doing so good. You got such a tight little pussy. How about I get a toy for next time. Something a little bigger than my fingers but smaller than the real thing. That way we can't get you ready a bit better than we will this time."

The idea of ‘next time’ made you lightheaded. You whimpered as he added a third finger. You could feel the stretch between your legs. Paired with the stimulation of your clit you couldn't hold back as the tension in your body released, Kirishima tighten his grip to keep you in place as you tried to jerk away from him.

Pleasure flooded your body and you wanted to collapse onto the mattress.

As you slowed your breathing he gently lowered you're ass so you could rest as he slowly removed his fingers from your drenched hole. He trailed kisses along your back while he praised you.

Finally he turned you on to your back. He was flushed, his hair falling around his face, and he had barely broken a sweat.

He removed his pants revealing his... monster cock. There was no other way for you to describe it. You had never been with someone who had such length AND girth. It looked like it was gonna break something in you.

No matter how hard you tried, Kirishima managed spread your legs. He took a moment to admire the mess he made before digging through a drawer on his nightstand.

You closed your eyes at the sound of the lube bottle opening. Kirishima applied a generous amount to his cock before using two fingers to rub the remaining substance into you.

"There we go," he whispered as he lined up his tip to your soaked cunt. "Just relax for me. Don't be afraid to hold on to me. I'm pretty sturdy."

The tip wasn't bad. You were thankful for the lube. You needed to hold on to him. Gripping your nails into his back as he continued to slide into you. You focused all your energy into your hands, afraid to move. Tears flowed freely from you now. The pain seared and you couldn't stop it.

"It hurts," your gasped. "So bad. Please no more."

Kiri paused.

"Shhh, bunny. I got you. We're almost there then we can give you another moment to adjust." He was running circles on your hips with his thumbs, wanting to provide you some form of comfort. He knew he was a challenge to take. It didn't help that you were so tight. "Take a deep breath for me."

You did, grateful for the momentary break. But as he instructed you to breathe out he shoved the remainder of his cock into you. A violent sob wracked your body. Kirishima hoped that the sooner you adjusted to his size the sooner you'd stop crying.

With him fully inside of you he rested for another moment. You were so tight that he was honesty surprised he fit. He brought a palm to the slightly swollen area of your lower belly. He applied just a bit of pressure before he began to slowly pulse in and out of you. You were still shaking but had quieted down.

When he no longer felt like you you were off the verge of passing out he was ready to help you feel good. He kept his palm against the bulge he was responsible before, but repositioned slightly so his thumb could make its way back to where it belonged - the swollen bud between your legs.

"God you're such a good girl. So tight and warm," he panted. "Gonna fuck you so good. Teach you that I'm the only man you need."

His speed began to pick up. While you were still in pain you began to feel the pressure expand within you once more.

Kirishima kissed the tears off your cheeks. He knew he was close, your walls clenching around his member. He was determined not to be too rough with you, at least not the first few times, but you were unintentionally wearing down his his resolve.

He nipped your neck harder than he should have, breaking the skin. You arched against his chest which allowed him to wrap his arms underneath you.

Kirishima felt like he couldn't get close enough to you as he pressed violently against you tender body. Another orgasm shot through your body causing you to clench even tighter around the cock inside of you.

"Fuckin hell," Kirishima groaned, "You take me so well bunny."

You felt a swell inside of you as he released inside you.

Your mind felt fuzzy with post orgasm bliss. Kirishima softened inside you, remaining in place as he showered you in praise. He began to withdraw from you, allowing his seed to drip past your puffy folds. He didn't leave you empty for too long. He used two of his fingers to push his fluid back into you. He used his other hand to pull you against his chest.

You were still tearful and the realization that he was using his fingers as a makeshift plug to keep his seed inside you was making you sob again.

"Don't cry bunny, you did such a good job. Once we calm down we can get in the shower. Then I'd got a little present for you since you're behaving so well."

You were not a fighter, you wished you were. You wanted to yell at him. To thrash and scream and make him stop holding you. But you weren't a fighter and you knew fighting him would do you no good. You would have to bide your time until you could make a run for it.

At least he hadn't been mean to you. And aside from (probably) breaking your pussy, he hadn't hurt you yet.

He was gentle getting you into the shower. You were washed first, his hands roaming your body and conditioning your hair. Then he helped settle you against the shower bar while he quickly took care of himself. After drying you off with the fluffiest towel he slipped one off his shirts over your head. It was just the right size to cover you ass.

He disappeared for a moment, leaving you sitting along the tub. There wasn't much for you to look at. The cabinets were locked and the room had no windows.

Kirishima was back, changed into comfortable sweat pants. He carried you with ease back to bed. The old sheets piled in a corner, he had replaced them with fresh linens.

Hopefully, he thought, this would make you more comfortable.

"Ready for your surprise?" He asked with a pointy grin.

You thought it was a rhetorical question but it looked like he was waiting for your response. Did you really want a surprise? No. But you probably didn't get much say so you merely shrugged your shoulders. He bounce out bed and went to rummage through one of his drawers.

He turned around to present a stuffed animal. It was a chunky shark, not too big but the perfect holding size.

"Look! I saw him and thought you would think he was cute. Don't forget to name him, 'kay?"

You clutched the toy to your chest. He knew you loved plushies. You mentioned it to him once and said you had them all over your apartment. The shark smelled like Kirishima.

[katsukikitten]

A harem collab in which we go to a party with our v precious hero 18+ Smut boooiiii

Sitting across from him never did get easier. As much as you told yourself it would. 

If anything it got harder and harder to share the same room as him, let alone air. 

But you were lucky enough, or unlucky enough, to join the agency when you did and to be partnered with your big time crush FatGum. Although you idolized him you were sure he didn't remember you. 

And how could he? He saved countless people a day so it should be no surprise that he had no idea who you were on your first day. Still, it stung. 

And it shouldn't still sting or come to a surprise when he sets down a flyer on your desk. A huge smile on his chubby cheeks as he taps the sheet of paper.

"Can you believe it?! The agency is throwing a new year's eve party!" He practically gushes, lingering by your desk with his intoxicating smile. He rummages in his brown bag, setting breakfast onto your desk careful to avoid getting grease stains on the flyer as if you'd hang it up one day instead of shoving it into the trash. 

"They have one every year." You shrug, thanking him for the breakfast but tossing the paper into the trash can. His smile never waivers as he pulls it from the fresh bin, returning it to the smooth wooden top. 

"Yea but not at a fancy hotel and never an open bar! We should go!" His eyes crinkle in the corners and your heart hammers in your chest. 

Little do you know he prays to the Gods you don't say no. 

"I dont know, it's such short notice. Like next week ain't it?." At least it wasn't a no. He smiles, thinking of your competative behavior. 

"Oh I see what it is." He takes the sheet from your desk, waltzing to his own, "You're scared."

"Tch, scared of what?" You hiss, snatching for the paper. 

"Scared I'll out drink you!" He laughs at your cute scowl as you size him up. His metabolism was insane, and with him being in his larger state you might not be able to win. 

But he didn't have to know that. 

"You fucking wish you could out drink me! Remember the last party we went to? You showed your age and could barely stand!"

"Oi! I was much thinner then. I think luck is on my side this time." He slaps his belly and you smile. A genuine laugh fills the room causing Taishiro's heart to clench. 

"Yea, yea." You wipe away a tear, "We'll see." 

The day drags on and on, turning into a week of you glancing his way. Making sure he wasn't gaining any extra weight as he brought you your normal breakfast daily. 

It wasn't until the day of the party did you gain the advantage, a fight almost turned wrong and Taishiro had to use majority of that stored fat for a deadly punch to stop the villain from terrorizing the city. 

Still you'd never want this type of advantage just for a stupid drinking contest. Although he was not at his largest, he still had a considerable "dad bod" going on. 

"I still can't believe they had a tux in this size so late!" Taishiro shouts into the locker room at the agency, adjusting his tie as he waits for you. Meanwhile nerves eat you alive as you stare into your reflection, wondering if this dress fit okay, smoothing the fabric over your stomach self consciously. 

"You okay in there? We're gonna be late." He calls softly, hoping you aren't having second thoughts about going with someone like him. 

"Coming!" You call back, glancing at your deep amber dress a final time before rushing into the hall. 

"I was just thinking you were going to forfeit and then I-" Words die in his throat and he drinks you in. Beautifully complimented by the shape and color of your dress as he mouth hangs agape. 

"Wow. You look…" 

"Tai, I know, I look...different." 

"Amazing, perfect, breathtaking." He gives you a pointed look, "Which is no different than how you normally look." 

Heat creeps up the back of your neck and you're thankful he misses your flustered expression. The walk to the hotel and the brisk cold air gives you time to not only cool off but think.

Really reflect on the year, this horribly rotten, all bad luck year. Reminding you of all the times you had failed but also reminding you of all the opportunities you had missed. And not opportunities in the sense of promotions or saving people but opportunities to get closer with a certain somebody. 

You glance up at him and he glances down at you, smiling in a way that sets your skin on fire and yet it makes you feel at ease. 

Slowly you were coming to hate it. 

"I'm excited that they decided to invite some smaller agencies. Means I can introduce you to some of the kids I interned. Well I guess they are adults now huh." He looks nostalgic, sad even as he stares into space. Opening the door to the large hotel and it the look sticks with him until he is just before the party doors. 

"Ready?" 

"As ready as I'll ever be." You huff as he places his hand on the small of your back, bringing you into the rented ballroom. Lights and sounds consume your sense as music dances around light conversation. You're beginning to wonder if a drinking contest was such a good idea that is before you see the CEO of your agency totally shit faced. You glanced down at your watch, it was only 8pm. 

Taishiro guides you around the room with a "starter" drink, introducing you to old and new faces. Beaming with pride as he introduces you as his partner and not his sidekick like other heroes had done in the past. You hated how much your heart raced. 

"And this is Kirishima! He was one of my best and most memorable! Kids got guts and heart in spades!" He slaps Kirishima on the back and the young man slumps forward with a sharp toothed smile. 

"Aw come on, I wasn't that great…" He scratches the back of his head. 

"I heard that's when you became 'unbreakable'! I think that's so cool!" You gush over the young hero complimenting him to no end. 

"Stop. You'll give me a big head." He smiles, blushing furiously before his eyes wander to the closeness of the two of you and then they settle on your drinks, "You're not trying to out drink the infamous FatGum are you?" 

You laugh loudly before leaning in close as if to share a secret. 

"Oh, yes and I plan to kick his ass." 

Kirishima returns your smile and stage whispers 

"Taishiro-sama has lost a good bit of weight. I believe in you!" He winks before someone across the room calls for him, "Call me when you get really started!!" 

Two hours pass and you find yourself sitting across from your partner with his sleeves rolled up. Showcasing those deadly forearms as he slams back another shot. Kirishima keeps tally on hotel stationary and announces the number of shots. 

"You'll have to take five to be in the lead! You'll have two minutes to decide to forfeit or-" But before he can finish you're grabbing for one of the prefilled shot glasses. 

"Kanpai!" You shout, slinging them down, ignoring how the room is spinning and how bright the light reflects off of the table full of empty shot glasses. 

Kirishima's eyes widen as you down an extra shot for good measure, tallying the booze count with worry.

"Fat hero." He says, almost gritting his teeth, "You'll have to take seven to be in the lead." 

The large hero leans on his forearms on the table, the alcohol he's had had mostly been processed and maybe your figured that out. That he was starting to lose his edge so he takes you up on the challenge knocking back the several shots as if they were water. You're eager to gulp down a few more praying it drowns out your feelings for the sexy man across from you, instead he lets his broad hand hover over the shot glasses. Silently giving you a reprieve and noticing just how much you're sweating, how blown your pupils are. 

"Let's give it a minute shall we?" He smiles as you drown in his golden eyes. Biting at your lower lip and with a defiant grip you swallow down a final shot.

"Your turn." You focus hard to make sure your words didn't slur, not wanting this feeling or night to end. He snorts, shaking his head wishing you acted out any other time than this. 

"I forfeit." He places his hands up and you glare at him as you wonder if he did it on purpose. Before you have the time to accuse the crowd erupts into a deafening cheer, the room lags as you try to place names with faces as they come close to congratulate you. As more and more people crowd you, the hotter the room feels. Politely you excuse yourself to an enclave balcony closing the doors tightly behind you as you gulp down air, desperate to cool off and douse the desire that burns hot in your belly seeping to your core. 

"Fuck." You rake your nails through your hair as a hit of icy air skates along your skin leaving goose flesh in its wake. A steady warmth comes from behind you, voice deep as he speaks softly. You can tell he's using the same tone he uses on victims, trying not to startle them with his size. 

Little did he know how much you loved how much bigger he was. A safe haven, protection embodied. 

"Ready to go home?"

"No I'm fine! Perfectly fine." He sucks his teeth at your stubborn reply, leaning in close with his hands in the pockets of his tux. 

"You look flushed...you seem out of it." 

"I'm totally of sound mind!" A bark to which he laughs, giving in to the liquid courage as his large hand tilts your chin towards him. Flirting with a line he swore he'd never cross. 

"Yea, if you're so sound of mind, would you let me do this?" He asks, leaning closer, lips almost brushing yours. Your breath mingles with his in little puffs of fog agaisnt the cool air and suddenly you're burning again. 

From the inside out.

His lips touch yours, gently, passive at first and if he's trying to fight against his urges. Slowly he breaks away, amber eyes glued to your mouth before he sighs. Hoping he didn't just fuck everything up. 

In an instant you're drawing him back to you, hands in his golden wheat hair and your fingers weave through the strands. Mouth opening and demanding more as his large hands grip onto your ribcage as if you'd float away. 

And maybe you would, you felt like you could. 

Frantically your hands demand more, exploring up his shirt, touching across his stomach and digging your nails down his back. His own hands follow suit, gripping at your ass and tits, memorizing every luscious curve until he is drunk off of you and you only. You moan into his mouth and with that he loses all restraint. 

Shoving you against the harsh brick building, fisting your hair to tilt your head for better access, exploring your mouth with his well skilled wet muscle. Hands trailing beneath your dress to find your dress, squeezing at your thick thighs and when you moan in approval he moves higher and higher still until his fingers brush against the damp fabric. This time it is his turn to groan as he presses his hardened cock against you, your hips move to grind against his large fingers. 

"Please Tai" It is soft, breathy, sending him into a frenzy as he gives you exactly what you want. Letting his fingers slip beneath the fabric to gather the slick between your folds, gently rubbing against your throbbing clit. You arch against his touch, exposing your neck to him, he leans over and bites. Placing kisses along your throat, making sure to be careful enough to avoid marks before his hazed brain causes him to speak. 

To confess. 

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?" He asks, plunging his fingers into your tight heat, stretching you as you mewl, "Ever since I first laid eyes on you. Kamisama you were perfect. And tonight. Fuck baby. Wearing my eye color for all to see. You want people to think you're mine?" 

"Yes, Taishiro. I want people to think I'm yours." You moan, fucking yourself on his fingers before he takes over. Setting a quick pace before he curls his thick fingers just right, in an instant you're creaming against his digits. Crying out as he overstimulates you before he covers your mouth with his broad hand, reminding you just how much he dwarfs you.  

It makes you cum again and again and he corners you against the wall. Cock twitching as he laps up your sinful faces with a gluttonous appetite. 

"Please Tai, pleeeasse." 

"What's wrong baby? My fingers not enough?" His cocky tone drives you mad and your hips buck against his touch before he withdraws from your heat. Panting he levels his gaze yo you. 

"Is this what you want?" Peppering you with kisses as if you could deny him and his godly hands.

"Don't make me beg Tai…" You rasp, he gives a devilish smile. 

"Then I won't." His hands slink up your dress, gathering it at your waist as on skillful finger pulls the overly damp underwear away from your soaking sex. He frees himself and you swallow, not realizing just how large he was, for a moment you worry you won't be able to take him. 

"I'll be gentle." He coos, easing himself in an inch at a time as your stretch around his thick cock. Pussy fluttering as it adjusts to his size, he gathers your legs to his sides, squeezing your hips to keep from rutting into you roughly. He pistons his hips slowly, watching your face contort as he angles himself just right. Sensual thrusts have your legs and pussy squeezing him so deliciously tight. Still he worries he's going to hurt you.

"You okay?" Alcohol lingers on his breath and you swallow him whole with a kiss. Moaning into his mouth softly as he rocks you into one of your most intense orgasms to date. It's a slow build, undeniably intoxicating as his steady pace hits your spongy soft spot and his pelvis rubs against your clit. The coil in your stomach snaps and your body clamps onto the behemoth of a man tightly, stars dot your vision as he continues to fuck you through it. 

"God you're so beautiful ya know? So responsive to my touch. Taking me so well baby." He purrs against your ear, "Makes me want to keep this pace all night." 

He keeps true to his promise, bringing you to new heights at the steadiest of paces, causing you to lose count of how many times you've cum on his length. Pussy attempting to milk him dry as he palm swallows your screams. He looks at your features, your makeup running from delirious tears, mouth fallen opened in a propetial O as your hair clings to your skin. 

"Kamisama you're like art." He kisses your quickened pulse, "Ready for me to fill you love? You're squeezing me so tight…" 

He groans and all you can think of his him and the searing pleasure that courses through your veins to settle in your over sensitive heat. His cock twitches and you want nothing more than to be stuffed full of the Fat Hero's fat cock and his cum.  But words are lost in your hoarse throat and all you can do is nod, moaning his name as if it were a prayer. It's all the encouragement he needs, quickening his pace as the crowd inside grows louder. Counting down from 10. 

It's all lost to you and his hips snap against you, the brick scraping against your shoulders as his grip on you becomes so tight you're sure you'll bruise. Your body hyper aware of every little sensation as you drown in pleasure and warm amber sun, he groans, painting your walls in hot ropes of cum, your vision spots as your body arches to meet him as your spams a final time while his lips crash to yours. 

All the while fireworks erupt over head, bringing in the new year on a literal high note. 

He huffs, sweating as he looks at you, still buried to the hilt. Swiping his thumb over your cheek and running mascara before he breathes out so gently. 

"Happy new year baby." 

[winterscaptain]

absence.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: the next installment is here! this is the second-to-last piece in the berry hill section of a joyful future. as it has been lately, this one requires little ajf context, but i would recommend reading berry hill and waldosia, if you haven’t already. (thanks to aimz @ssaic-jareau, kira @good-heavens-chris-evans, and sabina @writefasttalkevenfaster) edit: this has been heavily revised as of april 29th, 2021. the changes and additions address continuity errors and ongoing subplots. 

words: 7k (prev. 3.8k) warnings: language, vomit mention, really accurate satellite phone protocol (eat your heart out, cm writers), beard!hotch, jack hotchner content, one last slow burn

summary: “absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it inflames the great” - roger de bussy-rabutin. au!march-september 2011

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next? updated: april 29th, 2021

There’s a moment where he stops at your desk on the way out of the bullpen, but you just stare at him. He opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it. After a moment, he finally says, “Jack is with Jessica tonight.” 

You have no idea what your face looks like, but it’s enough to drop his shoulders and send him on his way, defeated.

+++

You let yourself into his apartment, slamming the door behind you. He’s been waiting for you, leaning against the windowsill across from the door. 

“How dare you.”

He sighs and presses a hand to his forehead. “You have to understand that I -”

“Bullshit, Aaron. I don’t have to understand a goddamn thing. What are you thinking? We need you.” 

His head tips up, and he looks through you. The haunted look in his eyes almost makes you falter - it so acutely reminds you of the days following Haley’s death - but you keep your resolve. He doesn’t say anything, just lets you yell at him until it's out of your system. You could never actually hate him and he knows that, which makes some of it easier, but not all of it. 

The tears start and pick up speed as you continue, nearly at a shout. “You've known for seven months that you were going to leave for Pakistan. I read the brief. Seven. Fucking. Months, Aaron. Since September, you’ve known and you didn’t tell us about the task force assignment in fucking Pakistan!” 

You pause, but the final nail in his proverbial coffin leaves your mouth without permission. “Emily died, and you’re still leaving?” He flinches. “You’re leaving me and Jack. You’re leaving our team. I never thought you could do something like that to us. Maybe them, but not me. Never to me. I mean, after everything we’ve -” You cut yourself off and raise the back of your hand to your mouth, unable to finish the unbearably painful thought.

He’s not sure which part is the most painful - the fact that you list yourself with Jack instead of with the BAU, the fact that you say ‘our team,’ or the tone that drips with hurt. The sob that rips through your chest breaks his heart. He leans heavily against the arm of his couch, knocked down by the weight of your tears. 

No. The hardest part is knowing he deserves it, that you aren’t saying anything that isn't unfair or untrue. 

“I can’t even look at you right now.” 

He can only watch you as you walk back out, leaving the door open behind you. 

About twenty minutes later, he receives a text.

9:34pm I’ll be there tomorrow at 12:30 to take you to base. Be ready when I get there. 

He crawls into bed about half an hour later, and receives another text.

10:05pm Goodnight. 

Fuck. 

+++

The ride to base ride is mostly silent, and you know something’s wrong. It’s nothing you can articulate or even really put your finger on, but it’s something bigger than just his imminent absence.

He’s boarding a C-130 supply transport with a few Marines and various agency task force members to an outpost in Pakistan. It will no doubt be a long and deeply uncomfortable flight. His go bag, packed with desert fatigues and a couple of creature comforts, looks smaller than usual at his feet. 

“How long?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Task force operations are need-to-know.” There’s so much he can’t tell you, and it eats at him. Because it’s you, and he’s been an ass, he concedes a little. “Probably a couple of months.”

“We’ll be okay, Aaron.” 

A little laugh leaves him, and it pulls a smile from you. 

“What?”

“Remember when you chased me down last night to tell me the team couldn’t do this without me?” 

You roll your eyes. “It’s still true, but we’ll manage. We always do.” There’s a moment of silence, and you continue. “And you’re going where you’re needed. That helps.” 

It’s true. Your anger had cooled (just a little) overnight, and you decided you didn’t want to be upset with him when he leaves. 

You already miss him. 

“Don’t think I’m not still mad at you.”

He looks out the window, and you can hear the wheels turning in his head. Jack is on his mind, and so are you. There’s nothing more nauseating than the thought of leaving you while you’re still hurting from Emily’s loss. “I know.” 

Why are you going through with this, Hotchner?

Oh, right. You’re a coward. 

“I just don’t want our last conversation before you leave to be a fight.” You sniff, but don’t look at him as you continue driving down the highway. 

I am perhaps the most undeserving man on the planet. 

He says, “Thank you. I don’t want that either,” but he hopes you can hear what else he can’t say. 

I love you. I’m sorry. 

+++

“Alright, you’ve got everything you need?” You stand next to him on the tarmac, shading your eyes from the sun. 

Aaron hikes his bag higher on his shoulder. “Think so. You gonna be alright?”

You nod and reach for him. He embraces you, tucking his head into your shoulder. “You be safe, Aaron Hotchner. If you die out there I’ll kill you myself.” 

He chuckles, and you hope the sound is enough to keep your heart from breaking too much over the next couple of months. Your eyes close as he presses a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll check in when I can.”

Shoving against his chest, you turn him around and push him toward the plane. “Get outta here.” 

He takes one last look over his shoulder when he reaches the loading ramp and offers you a wave. You return it. 

+++

You manage to get to the highway before the tears start. The only person you want to talk to is Emily. She’d know exactly what to say, and she’d make sure your days off were full of fun and good company. You pull off on the side of the road, your head falling into your hands, sobs wracking through you.

When you’re able to keep driving, your chest hurts beyond belief. 

Without her, these months seem to stretch before you forever. 

+++ april 2011 +++

It’s not the first time you’ve ended up in his office alone, but it’s the first time you’ve really noticed the evidence of his absence. 

The picture frames on his desk started gathering dust, so you brought a little duster to the office. His desktop computer has stopped making noise, so you turned it on and off once out of pity. His phone hardly rings, unless it's the NSA trying to get a hold of one of you for a sat phone call, so you and Morgan take turns taking forwarded calls. 

The silence is overwhelming and seems to pull something intangible from you. It’s exhausting. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” 

You turn, finding Penelope in the doorway. You’re not sure how long she’s been there, watching your acquiescence to the bees that seem to have invaded your brain in the last couple of weeks. 

“I slept last night,” you tell her. It’s not technically a lie. 

She doesn’t look impressed. “Did you sleep through the night, or are you just trying to play one of your Jedi mind tricks on me?” 

With a sigh, you cop to it. “No, I didn’t sleep through the night.” You look out the window to the bullpen, and you know she sees something on your face. 

“I don’t like it either.” She looks over her shoulder, finding Spencer and Ashley playing a game of Go on the desk. Unsurprisingly, Spencer’s winning. Rossi and Derek speak quietly by the little kitchen, looking just about as tired as you feel. 

The short-handedness is getting to you. “There’s just…” You search for something to say. “There’s just so much to do.” 

Penelope looks back. Her mouth twists. “And we’re down a couple’a hands.” 

That’s an understatement. 

+++

“I would understand if you needed some time to think about it.” Erin leans forward in her chair, elbows on her desk. “With your team cut in half, even I wouldn’t feel comfortable sending you to another unit without some time to train a replacement or two.” 

“Or three,” you add.

She looks at you and nods. “Exactly.” 

You pick up the letter from the Special Agent in Charge in Los Angeles. You’d be his right hand - essentially the liaison between operational support divisions and units operating in the field. It’s a hell of an opportunity, a huge promotion, and a significant bump in pay. 

“Can I take you up on the offer to think about it?” You slide the letter across the desk again. 

Her eyes are soft, and you almost feel close to her in that moment. “Of course. Take your time. It’s a position created just for you, so there’s nobody else in line for it.” 

“Thanks.” 

+++ may 2011 +++

“Ready or not, here I come!” You call across the apartment, sneaking through the familiar rooms with practiced ease. 

Aaron’s been away for close to a month, and you’ve settled into a routine. Cases, of course, keep you busy. Derek’s rather good at playing unit chief - decisive and collaborative - but you miss Aaron’s steady, even hand. 

Really, you miss everything about him. You try not to think about him too much. 

You fail, often. 

Avoiding thoughts of Aaron gets even harder as you creep into the master bedroom. The smell of him hasn’t left. Past the doorway, the air is spicy, masculine, and warm. You squint at the bed. One of the pillows moves, just a little, and you pounce, pulling the covers back and grabbing the wiggling pillow. 

Jack screeches and throws himself at you. You catch him and fall back on the bed, laughing. “I found you!”

Jess is off running errands for the afternoon, taking some well-earned time off. You’ll more than likely spend the night over here tonight to give her more of her weekend. It’s never any trouble to stay with Jack. You adore each other. 

Usually, Jack leaps right to his feet for another round, but he stays put after his fit of mirth passes, sprawling across your chest. 

“What are you thinking about over there?”

He sighs, and brings his little hands under his chin, propping his head up so he can look at you. He’s six (and then some), now - still very much a boy - but the pensive look on his face starkly reminds you of his father. “When’s Dad going to be home?”

You push some hair off his forehead. “I’m not sure, my love. I’m hoping it’s only a couple more weeks, but it could be a little longer than that.” 

He sighs, and it breaks your heart a little. You turn on your side, and he curls into you, resting his head on your arm and tucking under your chin. “Are you and my dad best friends? I have a best friend named Connor and he says best friends are really important and I was just wondering.”

You laugh a little. “Yeah, I think so. Your dad and I have known each other for a long time.” His little hands play with the collar of your shirt. There’s more to his question. Jack’s just like his dad and takes a bit of ferreting out. Luckily, you’ve had plenty of practice. “What are you curious about, little bug?”

“Do you miss Dad?”

A track of Aaron’s laugh, his smile, the way his arms feel around you flies through your head. “Yeah, I miss him a lot.” 

“I’m happy you’re here so we can miss him together.” You can almost hear Aaron’s voice in Jack’s. It sounds just like something he would say, and probably has said, talking to his son about Haley.

“Me too, buddy.” You kiss the top of his head. “Me too.” 

Jess returns about an hour later, groceries in-hand, to find you and Jack curled together in Aaron’s bed, snoozing the afternoon away. She snaps a picture with her phone, saving it in an album she keeps for Aaron. After she puts the groceries away, she escapes, leaving a note. 

You’re on your own tonight and tomorrow. Have a good time with breakfast - he’s been picky lately. 

XO, Jess

+++

“You know,” Jess says, a little out of the blue one afternoon. “Haley told me something once.” 

You snort. “I’d imagine she told you a great number of things.” 

“Well, sure. But I mean about you and Aaron.” 

It’s pretty stupid that your body decides to panic over absolutely nothing. If this was a polygraph, you’d fail outright. And yet, nothing’s happened between you and Aaron. You’re just friends. 

Yeah but you love him. 

And he probably loves you, too. 

But we're all to chickenshit for that.

What a-fucking-bout it?

You take a little breath and a sip of your tea. “Oh?” You hope the query sounds casual enough and doesn’t give away the cool sweat blossoming over your palms. 

Luckily, Jess isn’t a profiler. 

“Haley told me - and this was the summer before she died, so it’s not like she told me under duress or anything - that she thought there may have been something between you and Aaron after the divorce.” 

She says that like it’s the simplest thing. You’re not sure what to say, so you keep your eyes on the grain of the coffee table, tracing the lines with your eyes. Eventually, you decide to answer in the simplest, most honest way possible. 

“There’s never been anything between Aaron and me. He’s one of my best friends and I care about him.” That sounds evasive even to your own ears. “I care about him a lot.” 

Jess hums. “I know, but Haley always had a sense about these things. And she knows Aaron better than anyone.” 

Her slip into the present tense makes your chest pull. 

“I don’t say that to put you on the spot or anything.” She shrugs. “I just think you guys would be good together. You’re good for him and I think he’s good for you, too.” 

She’s more right than she knows, but you can’t think about it for too long. You miss him too much. 

Out of a need to respond, you offer a half-hearted, “Maybe.” 

Jess reaches out. “He’ll be home soon. When he gets back, I think you should at least think about it. Or talk about it.” She shakes her head. “Or something.” 

“I have -” You cut yourself off, not really meaning to share. 

She squeezes your knee. “I know you have. So has he.” 

+++ june 2011 +++

Back to back cases - five of them, to be exact, pull you through the next four weeks by the ear. Formal leadership wears on Derek more and more by the day, and you find yourself making just as many decisions as he does. You’re immensely proud of him, but the whole thing is exhausting. Spencer does his best to slip back into his normal role, but Emily’s loss continues to wear on him. You don’t blame him.

Most days feel held together by duct tape, with you and Rossi acting as the adhesive. All that and the offer in Los Angeles you’ve hardly had time to process. 

Thus, your evening with Jess is both well-earned and much needed. 

“Wanna crash here tonight?” She sets a mug of tea down on the coffee table in front of you and sits heavily back on the couch. “It’s pretty late.”

You check your watch and find it is indeed late. Before you can answer, your phone rings, and you answer it with an apologetic glance toward Jess. “Hey, Morgan. What’s up?”

“We have sat call notification from Hotch. Can you come in?” He sounds exhausted. 

“Yeah, I can be there in twenty. Is everything okay?”

He sighs. “Yeah, looks like a routine check-in.” 

Jess sighs, knowing the drill. She goes to the kitchen and pours your tea into a travel mug. 

“Are you calling anyone else in?”

“Nope. Just you. See you when you get here.” He hangs up. 

You stare at your phone as Jess sits next to you again. “We have a call from Aaron coming in, and I have to head to the office.” She hands you your travel mug, and you take it gratefully. 

“You’re welcome back here - I can set up Aaron’s room for you. We’re a lot closer to the office than your place, and I don’t want you to drive if you’re too tired.” She sets a hand on your knee, and you reach over to embrace her. 

“Thanks, Jess.”

+++

When you arrive, Derek’s already on the phone. “... So, no leads?... Right.” He looks up and catches your eye. “Here, Hotch.”

You take the phone. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He sounds relieved. “Are you doing okay? How’s Jack?”

His questions make you smile. “We’re good. He’s good. I just left the apartment - Jess and I were having some grown-up movie time.”

You’re warmed by his laugh. “Good. Glad to hear it. I was just telling Derek that the leads out here have gone cold, but we’re still working.”

“Ah. Any chance you’ll be home soon?” You avoid Derek’s searching gaze. 

“It doesn’t look that way, no. We’re picking up on some chatter out there, but nothing firm. We’ll have to keep out for a couple more weeks at least.”

Your heart drops, but you hide it as best you can. “Alright. Anything you need from us back here?”

“Just keep doing good work.” You know he can’t say much more than that, with more than a couple of NSA guys in between you on the line, not to mention the archival recording of the call. Even then, you know he means looking for Doyle. “That’s all I need from you.” 

“We can do that.” You give him a quick rundown of some recent cases, all surface-level. You’re mostly stalling, using up incredibly expensive satellite time just to hear his voice. 

You hear him sigh. “Alright, I gotta get back. Tell Jack and Jess I love them.” 

“Of course.” You hand the phone back to Derek and wait while they finish up. Your eyes wander over the volumes of law books in Aaron’s bookshelf, the pictures of Jack and Haley and Jess behind his desk. Wandering over to his chair, you sit down and rest your head on your arms. 

Your eyes wander to a photo taken a year and a half ago at Haley’s service. You’re not sure who took it, but you’re crouched on the ground talking to Jack, while Aaron stands behind him with a hand on his head. Jack's little hands are in yours, and he’s smiling a little. 

Of all the photos to keep on his desk...

Derek hangs up the sat phone and puts it back in the lockbox. He crosses the office and leans against the desk beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

+++

When you get back to the apartment (indeed much closer than your home), Jess is asleep in the guest room, and Jack’s still out like a light. 

You change into your pajamas, stuffed into your go bag, and curl up under the covers on Aaron's side of the bed. His pillow smells faintly like him, and you burrow into it. 

The bed feels far too big and far too cold without him. 

+++

“JJ!” You stand to greet her. “What are you doing here?” 

She holds up her credentials. “I’ve been reinstated as a profiler on temporary assignment, so don’t get too excited. It’s a contingent favor for the FBI and I’m sure the State Department will call to collect sometime soon.” 

You clear your consults and subpoenas off the desk beside you. “Good to have you back.” Looking over at the intimidating stack of files you ask, “Need anything to do?”

+++ july 2011 +++

The next time a sat call comes in, you can’t go into the office. Jack has the flu and is absolutely miserable. You can’t, in good conscience, leave Jess to her own devices. Between the vomit and the sleeplessness and the tears, four hands are absolutely necessary. 

“Derek, I can’t leave. Jack is literally puking his guts out as we speak, and I don’t have any new intel for Hotch.” 

Morgan huffs into the phone. “Come on. You know you’re the only one he actually wants to talk to and the only one who has any actual updates about Jack.” 

“You just have to tell him that I’m up in the middle of the night with his son, who has the flu. Isn’t that enough of an update?” You don’t really mean to snap at him, but the lack of sleep has made you a little punchy. 

“Fine. If he -”

“Yeah, I know. If he gets upset, just blame me. He can deal with me when he’s not in Pakistan. As long as there are five time zones between us, I’ll take my fucking chances.”

“Fair enough.” 

He hangs up, and you return to the hall bathroom, where Jack’s cheek is pressed against the toilet seat, his forehead clammy and face pale. Jess is taking her turn to sleep - you’ll switch off in an hour. 

“Hey, bubba.”

He mumbles something that sounds like, “Hi.”

“Can I get you some crackers or maybe some Sprite?” 

Jack shakes his head and lifts himself up, holding his arms out. The risk of illness far from your mind, you gather him up and lean against the cabinets, rubbing his back.

“Can you try to close your eyes for me?”

“I don’t feel good.” There are a few tears in his voice, and it breaks your heart a little. You’ve so been there. 

“I know, baby. I know. Just close your eyes for a minute, okay?”

He does, and his breathing evens out eventually. He’s still feverish, but you’re happy he’s sweating, at least. It could break by morning at this rate. 

The makeshift towel-bed on the bathroom floor looks more than inviting. You gingerly shuffle over and lay down, keeping Jack flat against your chest. 

It’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

+++

“Strauss offered me that transfer to LA again.” 

Derek looks up at you from his report, his brows drawn low over his eyes. “You gonna take it?” 

You heave a sigh. Before you can say anything -

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” He puts his pen down, giving you his full attention. “What’s stopping you?” 

So many things. 

There are only a couple of them you can say aloud. Luckily, they have the benefit of being true, albeit incomplete. “I love this work. I love this team. I don't know if I want to be a lackey for an almost-politician.” 

“And?” 

He’s got you. He knows there’s more because he knows you. Even then, you can’t bring yourself to say exactly what it is that’s holding you back. So, you hedge your answer, knowing he’ll understand. 

“I can’t -” leave Aaron and Jack. You clear your throat. “I can’t leave this team. Maybe that makes me a coward or suggests a lack of adventure or something, but I can’t do it.” 

“It doesn’t,” Derek says. “It makes you human.” 

You smile a little. 

“And for the record, I don’t want you to leave. And I don’t think Jack and Hotch do, either.” 

A little incredulous laugh leaves you. Derek simply smiles, but doesn’t say much else. It makes your point for you. 

Nobody else knows you like this team. 

+++

The hardest days are the ones where you end up by yourself. Derek’s picked up kickboxing with Penelope, Spencer has withdrawn almost entirely, JJ has her family, and Rossi retreats to the cabin by the lake with an alarming degree of regularity. 

Thank God he’s not as cranky as Gideon. 

That would be too spooky. 

Everyone is out of the office, scattered to their respective distractions. You sit on the floor of Aaron’s office, leaning against his desk. Your laptop sits open in front of you, but you’re only half paying attention to the movie playing. 

It was only this afternoon you realized his office smelled more like stale paper, your house, and Tiger Balm than Aaron, and it broke your heart a little. Your only solace was his apartment - the evidence of his existence was inescapable there. With Emily gone for good, you often needed the reminder. 

His office phone rings. You pause the movie, stand, and answer it. 

“Agent Hotchner’s office.” 

NSA is on the other side, dry and professional. “We have an incoming call from Agent Hotchner. Is Agent Morgan available?” 

You tell him he’s not, but that you’re the next in line to receive task force updates. In an equally dry and professional tone, you relay your credentials and your unique intel code. 

“Thank you. Please stand by.” Click. 

You roll your eyes. 

God, they’re boring. 

Sitting down at Aaron’s desk, you wait for the armed guard to arrive with the phone. As per protocol, you’ll sign for the call and remove it from the lockbox yourself. You’ll return it for pickup when the call is completed. 

The guard shows up and you step through the motions, finally getting the phone to your ear. 

“Hey.” 

“Oh, it’s you.” He sounds surprised, but not displeased. 

You laugh a little. “Yeah, it’s me. Morgan’s unavailable at the moment.” 

“I see. Is Jack feeling any better?”

“Yeah. He’s been alright for about a week now. It was a pretty nasty bug, but he’s a trooper. Any new chatter down your way?” You trace the wood grain of his desk with your finger, only a little absent-minded. 

“There’s a little bit of activity on the border. We’re monitoring the situation. Is everything going okay over there?”

“Yeah, for the most part. We’ve been feeling the heat a little since Seaver transferred to Andy’s unit, but we’re managing alright. Dave’s called JJ back in to lend a hand, and she’s doing really well.” 

He hums. “That was a smart idea.” 

“I’ll tell him you said so.” 

“Oh, please don’t. It’ll go straight to his head.” 

You smile. “Fair point. Any updates on the timetable?”

When are you coming home? Please make it soon. 

“Not at the moment. I think we’re getting closer. Few more weeks.” There’s something behind his voice you can’t quite grasp, but you let it go. 

“Alright. Keep us posted.” 

“Will do. You know the drill.” 

“I sure do. I’ll relay the information to the team, tell your son you love him, and talk to you in a couple of weeks.” 

You can almost hear his smile. “Exactly. Talk soon.”

“Be safe, Aaron.” 

“Hey, before you go,” he says. “Can you, um -” 

You smile, tracing the wood grain on his desk. “I’ll tell Haley you said Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks.”

+++

Jess’s hand only shakes a little as she lights the candle and holds the cupcake between the three of you. While she takes care of the cake and begins to sing with Jack, you hold the camera, filming the impromptu party so Aaron can see it when he comes home.

“Okay, Jack you have to help Mom blow out the candle,” Jess says, holding the cupcake in front of him. With a great amount of glee, Jack extinguishes the candle with a big breath and a laugh. 

You turn the camera on Jess, who says, “We couldn't let Haley’s forty-first go unrecognized - she’s officially old and we had to let her know.” 

With a laugh of your own, you turn the camera around and wave before turning it off. 

“Can I eat the cake now?” Jack asks. 

Jess nods, pulling the candle and setting it aside on your picnic blanket. “Of course, but after we eat some fruit, okay? I don’t want the ants to get to the basket before you do.” 

The July sunshine beats down on the three of you, picnicking beside Haley’s resting place. It is, in fact, her forty-first birthday. You can only imagine the look on her face she would have adopt when you reminded her of her age. 

“Oh please,” she’d say. “When you get to be as old as me, you’ll never hear the end of it.” 

Jack sits in the sun, munching on a little apple slice. You reach over, rubbing a little splotch of sunscreen into his skin. He already has a little sunburn from your adventure to the District earlier in the week and you’re not about to make your life even harder. 

Aaron’s absence, even in its fourth month, is glaring. Jack has mostly stopped waking in the middle of the night looking for him and having regular meltdowns, but he always looks up when the front door opens with an expectant look that breaks your heart. He’s an adaptable kid, but months without contact from his father have taken their toll. If you’re honest, it surprised you a little bit. 

With a little bit of perspective, months are different than days, or even a week or two. Jack relies on Aaron more than you realized and the difficulty of helping Jess where you can has only further illuminated your ignorance.

“Will Mom always have a birthday?” Jack asks. 

Jess looks over at him. “What do you mean?”

He thinks for a moment, a little pensive. “I mean, because she’s not here. Do people who aren’t here still have birthdays?” 

“They do,” she replies. “That’s why we have to celebrate for them. They aren’t here, but it’s still special.” 

He nods, a kind of understanding look on his face that makes you think he knows exactly what that means. 

+++

“Yeah?”

You smile. It’s been a minute since you heard his voice, over the phone or otherwise. “Hey, Dr. Reid. How’s Vegas?”

“Hot. But it’s nice to be home.”

“How’s your mom?” You trace aimless patterns over the mat on Aaron’s desk, watching the suede imprint and erase as you go.

He sighs. “She’s alright. I think she’s about ready to kick me out, though.”

“It’s only been three weeks,” you laugh. “Surely you can make yourself useful?”

“I sent in her most recent publication to the journal, so I’ve outgrown my use until I find her a new thesis.”

You can almost see it - the two geniuses, mother and son, bickering over a game of chess or fourteenth-century novel. “Better find her a new thesis, then.”

Spencer’s thin smile is audible through the phone. “Guess so. How are things over there?”

“It’s a little hectic. It’s just me, JJ, Morgan, and Rossi now. Penelope’s still working with us regularly, but counter-terrorism keeps pulling her for ‘special projects,’ whatever that means.”

You don’t mean to guilt him into coming back or anything - you know he needs the time to recharge. He’ll come back when he wants to or feels he needs to but at this point, there’s hardly a difference between four and five agents on the team. You need Aaron. And Emily.

“With the amount of summer task forces coalescing, that doesn’t surprise me.” He pauses. “I’ll probably spend a few more weeks here unless there are any developments between now and then.”

By developments, you know it means any confirmed sighting of your target. “That sounds like a plan. We’ll be glad to have you back but take your time. You’ve more than earned it.”

“Thanks.”

+++ august 2011 +++

“How’s Jack?” 

“He’s doing alright,” you tell him. “He misses you.” 

I miss you.

Aaron sighs. There isn’t time for everything he wants to say, even less for the things he could. “I’m probably going to miss his first day.” 

“That’s what I figured.” It's hard to think about and probably going to be harder than you can imagine, especially if there’s a case that takes you away from home. “Jess will take lots of pictures and I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell you all about it when you get home.” 

It’s hard to keep the bitterness from your voice, but neither one of you could have anticipated this would go on for this long. ‘Over the summer’ seems a little abstract until the end of the summer arrives. 

This isn’t his fault. It isn’t. You know that. 

But it’s his fault for going in the first place. 

Conceptual anger isn’t useful. That’s another thing of which you’re keenly aware. 

And yet…

“Thank you for being there for them,” he says, as if he’s reading your mind. “I know this isn’t easy.” 

There’s nothing you can really say, but you hum anyway. 

The pair of you are just eating satellite time now, so you say goodbye and good luck before tipping your head back against his office chair. 

When the tears slip down your cheeks, you’re not sure if you miss him more than you’re mad at him or the other way around. 

+++

“Chief Strauss?” You knock lightly on her door and she beckons you in, just finishing up a phone call. She gestures to the little sitting area in the corner of her office, and you make yourself comfortable on one of the couches.

She hangs up and joins you. “Have you thought more about the offer?”

“I have. Thank you for your patience. I know it’s been a little while since we first spoke about it.”

Erin waves her hands, brushing off the implied apology. “The BAU’s work in the last few weeks has been exemplary. I’m impressed, especially considering the significant funding and personnel obstacles you’re facing at the moment.”

You laugh a little.  “I hope that doesn’t make anyone think working with this many people is acceptable, ma’am.”

“No,” she assures you. “I’ve made that very clear.”

There’s a small moment of silence before you speak again.

“I won’t be accepting the position in Los Angeles.”

Strauss sighs but doesn’t look surprised. “That’s as I expected. I will, however, add something that I did not share with you before to further inform your choice.”

You sit up a little straighter, a little more attentive.

“The push for a transfer is also in an effort to protect your reputation. I know the BAU has continued investigating Ian Doyle and while that is noble, it could go very wrong. And that much is above my head. DHS, ATF, NSA - they could all be upset by your unofficial involvement. This could go as high as Congress and could result in your permanent termination from the bureau, making you ineligible for work in federal law enforcement.”

“Yes, ma’am. High risk, high reward.” You shrug. “Or at least, that’s what Dr. Reid tells me.”

A wan smile pulls at her mouth. “Yes. As long as you’re comfortable with the consequences.”

“I am, ma’am.”

“Good.”

+++ september 2011 +++

“Alright, buddy! You ready to go?” 

Jack adjusts the straps on his little backpack while Jess finishes putting his lunch together. “I’m ready. Just need lunch.” 

“It’s right here!” Jess says, bringing his Captain America lunchbox to him and strapping it to the outside of his backpack. “You’ve got a ham and cheese sandwich, a juice box, some carrots, and a brownie. Does that sound okay?” 

He nods. 

“And if it’s not enough, we can always get some more food after school okay? It can be a special treat.” 

Jack grins and you all head off to the car together. 

+++

The little meltdown arrives when you and Jess move to leave him at the door of his classroom. Jack’s brown eyes get wide and rapidly fill with tears as soon as you take a step away from him. 

“Jack, baby, c’mere.” You drop to your knee and open your arms. He steps into them and you can feel his shaky, hiccuping breaths against your shoulder. 

While you hold him, you hear Jess debriefing his new teacher about their current situation, and the way things are in general. Dad in Pakistan, dead mom, goes by Jack rather than Jonathan, the whole nine. 

“You are so brave,” you whisper into his hair. “You are so smart. You are a good friend and you are safe.” 

He nods. 

“I’m so sorry your dad can’t be here, honey, but he’s going to be so excited to hear all about it as soon as he gets home. And I'll tell him how brave you are on our next secret superhero phone call.” 

‘Secret superhero phone call’ was the best way you could describe using the sat phone (and why Jack couldn't talk to Aaron himself) so you just went with it. 

Jack nods again, sniffling a little and pulling back. You reach for him, wiping his tears with your thumbs. 

“I love you so much, bud.” 

“I love you, too.” 

You kiss his forehead, reminding him, “I might have to get on a plane for work, but otherwise I’ll see you after you’re done with your first-ever day of school, okay? This is so exciting!”

He finally smiles, and your work is done. When he steps into the classroom, he doesn’t look back.

+++

Thankfully, you’re not pulled for another case until the end of the week, so you’re able to see Jack through his first-ever week of school. 

It hits you more than once that you’re the person next to Jess right now while he hits these milestones. Long gone is that toddler that would giggle in his mother’s arms as she danced around the living room to Hall and Oates. In his place is an insightful little boy with a rapidly burgeoning sense of humor and a wickedly kind smile. 

You love him.

+++ 

The entire team got an emergency call, so you're all gathered in the roundtable room when Aaron walks in, looking all the worse for wear and -

Is that a beard?

Wait. He’s back. 

You just spoke to him on Monday, with news of a “few more weeks,” even in the face of developments on the Doyle case.

Fucking bastard knew he was coming home, didn’t he?

All of your joy in seeing him evaporates, and you narrow your eyes at him. Just like the last time you were in this room together, there’s an apology in his gaze. 

“Welcome back.” Derek doesn’t sound surprised, and your head whips toward him. He doesn’t look at you. 

Unbelievable. 

“Thanks. Everyone, have a seat.” You follow Aaron’s instructions, and sit, crossing your arms. It’s childish, sure, but the balance of personal and professional life has flown out the window. 

This feels like a personal slight, rather than a professional one. You try to push it away, but it lingers in your sternum like a lit flare. It’s uncomfortable, and you hate it. 

“Why?” Derek sounds a little concerned. Your anger cools a little bit. Derek doesn't actually know anything. “What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Seven months ago I made a decision that affected this team.” You notice, brow furrowed, that JJ stands beside Hotch like an ally. They both have odd looks on their faces. “As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle.”

No. 

“The doctors were able to stabilize her. She was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration.” 

No. 

“Her identity was strictly need-to-know. She stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris, where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.” 

No. 

There’s silence, and you can’t tear your eyes from Aaron.  

“She’s alive?”

“We buried her...” 

Penelope and Spencer’s comments rush past you and you feel much like you did in the waiting room on that horrible, horrible night seven months ago. 

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me.” 

His eyes finally meet yours, and you find your vision blurred. You blink away your tears. 

It was a necessary lie. 

You go into this business expecting to be lied to. 

Not by Aaron. 

That’s not the issue and you know it. He left. 

He missed Jack’s first day of school. He was gone for five months. 

He left us. 

“Any issues?” Derek’s disbelief is marred by hurt, but you can’t reassure him through your own shock. “Yeah, I got issues.”

He’s cut off by Penelope’s glance toward the doorway. 

The team, save for JJ and Hotch, rushes toward her. You’re stuck to your seat until she approaches you. At her touch, you come back to life, throwing yourself into her arms. Her name sounds strangled leaving your mouth. “Emily.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Her grip on you is tight, but your arms, looped around her shoulders, don’t feel like they’re attached to your body. 

She lets you go and continues to speak. Derek’s frozen, and you can’t imagine for a minute what’s going on in his head. Emily wraps around him. He’s stock still, his eyes misty. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he brings his hand to her shoulder, his cheek falling onto the side of her head. 

It’s back to business faster than you can blink, and now you’re sure you’re not the only one ready to kill Aaron where he stands. Derek is livid. 

They stare at each other while Spencer starts asking questions. Eventually, they focus back. Aaron crosses to you, contributing where necessary. 

You don’t acknowledge him. It’s horrible. You hate being so angry with him, but there’s nothing to be done. 

You can’t be upset at him about Emily. There’s too much to understand, and yet the initial shock of it is like a never-ending bucket of cold water poured over your body. 

Selfishly, you realize you’re upset with him because he didn’t tell you he was coming home. It’s so small when there are other, much bigger, issues to address. 

Emily’s lie is professional. Just part of the job. This one feels personal.

You’re a child. Let it go. 

He knew and he left. 

He missed Haley's birthday.

He knew and he left. 

He shouldn't have gone. 

He didn’t tell you he was coming home.

[whump-town]

Nation Of Two

(Hotchniss/Hotly, language warning)

(You can also read the full text here)

It’s no secret that Emily Prentiss and Aaron Hotchner make a great team. Nearly in sync in every way possible. To outfits and biology- it’s fairly uncommon to stumble upon two people who seem to share everything in common and yet nothing at all. Mild-mannered to a short fuse, wildly protective, and a force to be reckoned with and yet what had created those similarities could not separate them more.

At the same time, Morgan had never seen two people get under each other’s skin as often as those two. In one breath, they’re moving in tandem the next arguing over a cup of coffee. Communicating through a single glance shared across a busy room and then at each other’s throats.

Dave had just broken up one of their more heated arguments. Given the profanity riddled sarcastic retort Emily had thrown as a final blow, Morgan could make a fairly educated guess that they were arguing about the headache Hotch is attempting and failing to hide.

Arguments over injuries and ailments always procure the worst scenes. They get heated, worse so when Hotch is the injured party in their das reich der zwei. Their Nation of Two- the dream team, in it together till the end of the line. The line, of course, being injuries. They want to protect everyone and when that spotlight finds itself pointing at one of them, it creates a unique kind of challenge. 

A pain in the ass. 

“Reid,” Hotch’s rough baritone breaks through the precinct. “You’re with me,” he announces, his dark eyes purposely flicking to Prentiss. “We’re going to the dock.” 

Reid realizes he’s now been roped into this. Going with Hotch means he’s siding with Hotch and like a fool, he’s only got one option. He sets the marker in his hand down on the table and sends Rossi a panicked look- knowing he’s the only person who can help him at this point. 

The older man offers him a short shake of the head- great, he’s really screwed. 

Prentiss’ jaw clenches as she glares at Hotch, her fist clenched at her side. What point is he proving right now? Look at me, Aaron Hotchner, all buff and big because I’m going to get an ear infection going outside in the snow without any protection for my busted up ears! So manly, so cool.

Fuck him. 

She hopes he gets an ear infection, it would only serve him right. Asshole.

Picking up Reid’s discarded pen, she sets back to her work. At least this way one of them would be getting something done.

__________

“Hotch?”

The snow had started coming down harder once they got in the car. Reid had learned a long time ago that as sensible as his boss was, one of the largest mistakes you could make around him was getting in a car while the man was angry. And as worrisome as the car ride had been- the tall, lanky creature standing on the dock is shaping up to be worse. 

“FBI!”

Reid blinks, just watching in confusion, and fear as Hotch keeps his solid pace up. 

“Identify yourself.” No one’s supposed to be on that dock. Hence the yellow tape wrapped, practically, all the way around it. If he could see the tape through the snow then surely so could the figure.

Hotch comes to a staggering halt, fingers itching to draw his gun. 

“Step closer,” the figure shouts over the snow, “and I’ll slit this little bastards throat.”

A father-son duo… admittedly, Hotch wasn’t expecting this. “Just let him go,” Hotch replies, evenly. His hands raise, slowly, making sure everything stays just as it is. “We can talk- tell me your name?” The kid looks no older than sixteen and terrified. Trembling. 

“I'm not going to jail!” The man shouts, “those girls had it coming! They deserved it!” The father jerks the boy closer, his son’s body covering his. “Now, fuck off!” He pulls them closer to the edge.

Hotch’s heart is thundering in his chest, he’s really not in the mood to watch a father kill his son. “Just- Just-” he falters and that’s all it takes. Hotch shouts in horror as the father throws both himself and the son over the ledge. He’s aware of Reid shouting his name but he tears off for the desk. The whole way losing articles of clothing- his phone, his gun, his jacket-

The water hits like a punch, stealing the air from his lungs. He breaks the surface and his face burns from the freezing water and the wind. He shakes his hair out of his face, searching for blood or hair or- His eyes zero in on a small splash, a hand breaking the surface. 

He dives back under, muscles burning as he forces his way through the water. There’s a mass of murky movement, two bodies in motion. Hotch struggles to tell son from father for a moment- a moment too long. A hand reaches out and grabs his leg, puling him down too and he knows. 

With all the force he can manage he kicks down at the hand, a sickening water muffled snap coming to his ears. Hotch wraps his arms around the smaller figure, his lungs burning and body growing tired. He kicks them up but there are other limbs connecting with the soft tissues of his body. The cold has numbed his body and he doesn’t feel the pain that should be coordinated with those blows.

His head breaks the surface and all he feels is pain. Up his sides, in his lungs, and his face. “Stop-” his head goes back under the water, a wave knocking them back under and over. He has to fight harder to get them to the surface and the body in his arms turns limp- like a ragdoll.

This time Hotch’s head breaks the surface and there’s no pain. Just numb, soft cold. Hotch hooks his arm under the kid’s armpits, resting his head on Hotch’s chest. He lays on his back and starts to kick, starting the exhausting and long trip back to dry land. 

“I see him!” It’s Reid, his voice edged with panic. “Hotch! Keep swimming you’re almost there!”

A wave hits and Hotch is forced back under. His body stops fighting, for a moment his brain screams but his body just sinks. It’s not even a fight. The water stops feeling like water- it’s warm and… well, somethings just can’t be explained. His body is detached, his thoughts slowing. 

Jack-

The water fills his lungs and the blur of the world turns black.

Emily-

Sharp pain in his chest- 

Burning lungs, his eyes shoot open looking and seeing nothing. Water and stomach acid burning the back of his throat and on his back he chokes- the water starting to slip back down into his lungs when he’s seized by his belt and shirt sleeve, heaved up onto his side.

He gags, chest burning as water is forcibly removed from his lungs. He attempts to struggle away but it’s to no avail. His body is not responding. 

There are hands all over him, burning warmth spreading through his veins. Like lava. “Hello Agent,” an unfamiliar face greets. Hotch just stares at the other man as he’s vaguely aware of being laid on his back. A large hand cradling his neck. “Your friend told me dove in that water,” both men’s eyes wander to the dock and the waves crashing into it. “You suicidal or something,” the medic says with a shake of his head, “ or just stupid brave?”

The Emily in his head answers “stupid brave” but Hotch can’t manage anything more than a wheezing breath. It’s taking all he has to manage that. The medic keeps talking, going on about how Hotch is either crazy lucky or an unusually good swimmer. 

“Reid?” He croaks, his head feels heavy, wrong but he can see a familiar blur in a sea of red vehicles. How? How did he get out?

The medic stops his talking and frowns down at his patient. “Is that the scrawny one?” 

Hotch swallows thickly and nods.

The medic nods back, “he’s okay. Looks a bit like a drowned rat but he saved your ass.” He motions with his head to their left, just slightly up the bank. Reid is sitting on the bumper of an ambulance, a shock blanket around his shoulders. “He’s a tough kid, though.”

Hotch keeps his eyes locked on him, assessing the situation. Reid is stronger than he gives him credit for. 

A sudden weight is placed on the center of Hotch’s chest, a foot on his sternum. To his own ears his cry of pain is muffled. Vaguely, he’s aware of the sound of a monitor making frantic noises, the medic’s voice drowning in with it. Someone shouts his name but the black encroaching on his vision is too much. He succumbs to the lava in his veins. 

__________

Morgan knocks at the open door, hoping to draw Reid from his silence. “You okay, kid?” The nurse had said he was fine. They thought he was in shock but his core temperature hadn’t dropped that much thanks to the EMTs fast work at warming him up. That hadn’t spurred him to say anything though. 

He hasn’t said a word since they pulled him from Hotch.

Reid keeps rocking himself, knees tucked to his chest and arms around his shins. He’s still freezing and it’s all his fault. He should have been faster.

“Hotch!” The adrenaline is pumping back through Ried’s body, knees and hands shaking as he watches the waves hit the side of the dock but Hotch’s head doesn't come back up. There are no bubbles coming to the surface, no signs of a fight happening below the surface. “Hotch!”

It’s been a minute but when Hotch dove in he was under for nearly two. 

Seventy-six seconds.

Even if Hotch is a good swimmer-

Reid pulls his jacket off, stripping layers of clothing from his skin. This is such a bad idea. So bad. 911 has been called, back-up is on it’s way but that’s no good if Hotch drowns. 

“I hate this job,” he mumbles, staring into the water. “I hate it. I hate it. I hate it! I hate it!” He tears into it, knowing that this is bigger than his slight aquaphobia and the freezing sting of the water on his skin. “Hotch!” He takes a deep breath and plunges into the water. 

It hurts. Burns. It’s like a thousand hypodermic needles kissing his skin. 

He pushes his hair from his face, scanning the water. Looking back to the dock he estimates he needs to go about five more feet to his right. Using long strokes he cuts through the choppy water, a wave hitting his face. He has to stop and recover, blinking the sting from his eyes. “Hotch!”

And it’s still freaking snowing. 

Reid is begging Hotch to pop up. To hear his deep voice berate Reid for getting wet too.

He hates this job.

Reid dives under the next wave, forcing his eyes to open under the water. He’s afraid to see what he’ll find. His fingertips hit something hard and covered- hair! Reid pushes himself down further, lungs burning but he’s found someone and he can’t come up yet. 

He wraps his arms around the trunk of the other person- his brain supplying Hotch was wearing a white buttoned down shirt and the hurt digging into his skin is blunt like a button. He kicks with all his might but the body- Hotch- doesn’t move. His lungs are under too much pressure and with a silent cry he kicks himself up the surface.

“Argh!” He screams into the air, lungs burning in an entirely new way. He takes two deep breaths, treading water to gather his breath. He can’t give up. He goes back down. His panic is driving his heart rate up, making his oxygen last in even shorter amounts. 

His hands connect and he has to remind himself to save the energy of being happy. ‘Come on’, he pleads. Reid tucks Hotch closer, one armed wrapped around his chest and the other extended above his head. Feeling for where the water breaks to air. 

Every muscle in his body is screaming. Lactic acid building up in his muscles and if he had the air to he’d scream in anguish. 

His fingers sting and with a new burst of energy Reid’s head emmerages from the water. He gasps for water, his cold cramped fingers losing their grip for just a fraction of a second. Hotch slips from his grasp but Reid’s scream is muffled by the waves crashing around them. 

They’re going to die and it’s his fault.

He’s crying, tears streaming down his numb cheeks. He has to stay level headed, he has to fight. 

That’s what Hotch would do.

Right, Hotch.

Reid pulls him closer, flipping him into the rescue position. Head above water, breathing or not- it has to be enough. Hotch won’t forgive him, ever, if Reid saves Hotch to leave behind that boy. A killer or not.

The water is well beyond cold enough to, hypothetically, protect from brain damage. 

Reid has to pray that's enough.

He goes back under. His lungs hurt nearly as soon as his head goes under, the cold water hitting his forehead is strangely… nice. The rest isn’t.

It’s harder. All of it. 

The current twists him, his muscles tired from swimming. If he can’t find this kid soon, they’re all going to drown. 

A wave above crashes hard, it’s force pushing him down. 

He sees nothing. 

It’s all just black and freezing. 

He kicks into something and whirls around, finding flesh and hair. Reid pulls but the kid doesn’t move. For a moment, Reid nearly leaves him. His lungs are burning, his body exhausted, and with a long fight still ahead… The bodies had hesitation marks. Shallow marks where someone young- someone incapable of murder had done as requestied but not whole heartidly.

The kid isn’t a murderer. 

Reid kicks upwards with all his might, his head feeling like it’s going to explode. 

He breaks the surface and could sob with relief at the sight of the shore lit up with emergency lights. “Help!” His voice croaks, breaking. There’s no way they can hear him. Reid pulls the kid so he’s on his back, just as he had Hotch, and begins to tug them both in the direction of Hotch’s freely floating body. “Help!”

He rolls onto his back, taking a wave to the face. He recovers quickly, a new surge of adrenaline working through him. His limbs are shaky but working. “Alright,” he says to himself, floating for a second to gain control. “Let’s do this.” He grabs the back of Hotch’s collar and the kid’s shirt and kicks with everything he’s got. Hoping that the waves hitting his face can push him towards the shore. 

“Kid-”

Reid flinches, his whole body recoiling. He blinks slowly raising his head in confusion. “M-Morgan?” He looks around him, surprised to find hospital tile and not the wet sand he’d left Hotch on. “What-” his mouth is impossibly dry, his body still cold. 

Morgan takes a step closer to him, weary. In nothing but a hospital gown and a pair of hospital socks Morgan can see his friend’s bony body. It’s no surprise he didn’t hold up well in the freezing water- he doesn’t have any fat on his body to keep him warm!

“I brought you some clothes,” Morgan lifts Reid’s bag up. He sets it down on the bed beside Reid, allowing him easy access to the clothes. What he’s not expecting is for Reid to start crying. For a moment he’s just struck, he has no idea what to do. He takes a tentative step closer, putting his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “Hey,” Morgan gathers him up in his arms, holding him close. “Kid, what the hell? What's wrong?”

Reid shakes his head, pushing his face into Morgan’s warmth. He just wants someone alive, someone warm to hold him. “I’m sorry,” he sobs. All he can think about is Hotch. “I tried, I did!” 

Morgan pats his back, “what do you mean? What are you talking about?”

Reid’s chest heaves, his sob taking him by surprise. “Hotch!”

“Oh,” Morgan pauses for a moment, not sure what all he should tell Reid. “Kid, Hotch is…” fine might be an overstatement. A little rough but- “Hotch is sitting down in the ICU with Emily, right now.” He rubs Reid’s back, shushing him gently. “Kid, he’s fine. Hotch is gonna be fine.” 

Reid pulls his head back, “what?”

That can’t be true. Reid saw. 

The EMT pulled the buttons on Hotch’s perfect white shirt open. His chest bare and unmoving, as pale as the snow under his back. CPR wasn’t working. Reid saw. His ribs were bending under each compression but nothing was working. 

He was dead. 

Reid saw. Hotch was dead.

__________

“We caught the pulmonary edema early,” the doctor promises them. His tone is light, hopeful. “He’s on a course of diuretics to clear his lungs and on oxygen until his stats come back up but he’s already doing much better.” He nods his head, clearly happy to give them a good prognosis. “There was some irritation in his right ear so I want to start him on a course of antibiotics for that, to get ahead of the ear infection.”

Emily snorts, both her hands coming up to cover her mouth but her shoulders are still shaking with the force of her laughter. It’s a horrible moment of reacting to news the wrong way but an ear infection? “I’m so sorry,” she manages to force her palm against her lips. Forcing her smile down. “I’m- I really am sorry for that I don’t-” 

The doctor holds his hand up in a clear sign of acknowledging her apology. “It’s perfectly fine,” he reassures her. “Everyone has different reactions to these sorts of things.” His smile is a strange mix of sadness and amusement as he recalls giving grimmer news than this to families and garnering a similar reaction. “I assure you, it’s not the first time someone’s laughed.”

Emily isn’t sure whether to feel reassured or sick. She lowers her hands and wipes at the bottoms of her eyes, beyond the point of caring if she looks like a raccoon or not. “Is he- Can you take me to him?”

The doctor looks at the little group behind her, all looking equally as eager to his patient. “It’s against protocol to let all of you back, yet, but I can let one of you back.” There was a name, someone Agent Hotchner had managed to call out for. “He was asking for a-a…” he can’t remember the name though. “An Emma or-”

“Emily.”

The doctor nods, “yes. He asked for Emily.”

“Well,” Emily looks back at the other’s. Swallowing the lump in her throat she says, “I’m Emily.”

The doctor claps his hands together, “well, then come with me.”

Emily looks back over her shoulder once- to JJ and Rossi being left behind in the waiting room- and offers them a small wave. Smiling sadly when they wave back.

“He was alert when I went in a few minutes ago,” the doctor tells her, coming to a sudden stop. “Try not to get him too worked up-”

She’s partially aware of what he’s saying from then on out but her attention is on the man on the bed. The man intently watching her from under the oxygen mask across the bridge of his nose. The doctor pats her shoulder, offering a smile and she nods and smiles back despite not having a clue what he’s just said.

Stepping into the room, she hesitates for only a moment before taking his hand and sitting on the edge of his bed. “Hey.” He’s cold to the touch and she sets to rubbing his fingers between her own to warm them up. “How do you feel?” With her distraction in place, it’s easier to ignore the obvious pain in her chest. Tight and wrong.

He’s too pale for even him, shivering under the layers of shock blankets and heating pads pressed around his body, but he offers her a warm smile. Reaching up with fingers that are still too cold to work properly, he fails to pull the mask from his face. She pulls it down for him, tucking it under his chin. 

“Hey,” his voice is weak, hoarse from disuse. “I got an ear infection,” he rasps at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

She keeps the mask pulled back for a moment longer, leaning in and kissing him tenderly. She runs the side of her finger along his jaw, clenching her teeth in a failed attempt to hold her tears at bay. Carefully, she places the mask back on his face. Feeling a sick twist in her stomach because she’s glad it drowns out the sound of his labored breathing. “Serves you right.” 

He smirks at her, a goofy lopsided little thing. Oxygen deprived or still cruising on his adrenaline high he says something, intangible between his slurred exhaustion and the hiss of the oxygen over his face. She makes just enough of it out to lift the mask back up and asks, “did you ask me if I’d still love you if you were deaf?”

It’s hardly the time to be having “would you still love me” hypotheticals when he’s hardly awake. Especially when his breathing is still so rough and if it gets any worse it’ll be her fault. Then she’ll have to kiss her visitor’s pass goodbye. Still, she can’t help but love him and his stupid questions.

He nods.

“I think so,” she places the mask back down. She runs her hands through his hair, smiling as he curls himself closer to her. “I mean, you don’t listen to me now, what would change?” She chuckles after she says it and he wraps his arms around her waist, pulling at her. That’s when her chest gets tight, her emotions bubbling up as he frowns up at her with those big old sad eyes. 

She almost lost him. Permanently. This time there would be no Paris for recovery, Afghanistan for penance- just permanent goodbyes where the last things they said to one another were cruel misguided words. Things that didn’t matter because that’s how the world works. 

The credits cut before the movie’s over. 

Romeo and Juliet isn’t a love story.

And he dies on a dock. 

No more Sunday’s spent in his backyard. The two of them tangled in a hammock meant for one person. A book balanced on his chest, his voice a deep rumble and the only sound in the world- “ I had taught myself to covet nothing. It was not a loathing of death that froze me. I had taught myself to think of death as a friend. It was not heartbroken rage-” 

No one could properly replace him. 

She’d never felt this comfortable with another human being. To try on clothing, twirling in place to show him that it not only has pockets but it swishes when she moves. How many men would look up from whatever teen magazine quiz he was reading and raise an eyebrow in approval? Noting she also wouldn’t have to shave above her knee in it either. 

He pushes the mask away, twisting the flimsy plastic from his face. “Come here,” he manages, breathless. “Let me hold you.”

She’s momentarily adamant to get too close. He’s hurt and tired and- pulling her closer. “Fine but only for a minute,” she caves and she always caves when it comes to him. It takes a minute to work around the machines and the wires, then moving so she’s not laying on him. “I mean it, Aaron.” She tucks her head closer to his chest, breathing in the natural scent of him. Just Hotch.

“You scared us,” she whispers against his chest. 

She’s close enough now that he can smell her conditioner. “I scared myself.” It’s not like drowning was something he was looking to do. 

Emily looks up at him, turning her head on his shoulder. “Let’s not do that again then?”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” his voice is rough again, breathing ragged. 

She reaches up and pulls the mask back over his face. Gently raking her nails through the hair at the side of his ears. “Get some sleep, huh?” He’s just a big softie and she knows that playing with his hair is going to put him out like a light. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

“Promise?” he mouths, eyes dropping already.

And how is she gonna say no? “Always,” she whispers. She holds him closer, scratching at his head. 

She’s waiting for his soft snore but now she wraps him up in her arms. Enjoying his proximity. He may be a stupid man but that’s what she signed up for.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Workout.”

Forgive me for being short today, But I have a Russian test in less than an hour, and it is on numbers which is the most excruciating part of this language lol.

Hope you all have a good day :)

The human pulled to a stop huffing and puffing, hands on his knees as he took in great big breaths. Krill could see ribs through his skin as the great bellows expanded and then contracted. Sweat slicked the skin as the body desperately tried to cool itself.

“Heart rate 165.”

The human straightened himself out coughing once or twice to clear his throat, reaching out and wiping his face with a towel.

He threw the towel over one shoulder and stretched the large muscle groups in his chest, stomach and back pulling tight.

Sunny leaned against the wall just to their right both sets of arms crossed over her chest, “So, what is this supposed to be fore. Is this like a dominance thing or something.”

The human wiped his face again and raised an eyebrow, “IT’s exercises,  Sunny. You know so I can be fit enough to pass the UNSC PT exam, or perhaps so that I can do my job better, or maybe because I look better whenI’m more fit.

Sunny turned her head to look at him, her eyes scrunching down a little as Krill went to take notes on a clipboard.

“You mean…. You didn’t just grow to being that size?’

The human glanced down at Krill incredulous, “IS she serious? Do the Drev like, not have to work out?”

Krill shook his head, “Drev do not have subcutaneous fat deposits like humans do. Any acquired deposits are stored below the carapace between the connective tissue, padding them down and giving them more protection.”

Sunny looked between them in confusion, “Wait, hold on…. I’m confused.”

The human towelled off his hair, “I have to work out to look like this sunny. IF i don’t use it, I lose it.”

She turned to look at Krill.

He tucked the holo-pad under one arm, “You see, Sunny. Humans are meant to adapt. They can adapt mentally, and they can adapt physically. The body changes to match the requirements of its environment. Sometimes this takes years to do, for instance if you take a light skinned population of humans and put them somewhere with a lot of sun, and keep that population in complete isolation, after a few generations, the skin will darken to compensate for the increased UV light. However these things happen on a smaller level. The body fluctuates to adapt to the amount of physical work which is required.”

The human nodded, “Exactly. Running strengthens the heart, and it increases the hemoglobin in my blood, so that I can run for a longer time with more oxygen. If I were to stop running, I would loose all of that and have to work back up.”

Sunny stared at him incredulous, “So, you have to force your body to be able to perform correctly. Like, It can’t just DO what it needs to do, but you have to convince it over years of training to be able to do what you want.”

The man shrugged, “Well anything sucks when you phrase it like that.” He turned and motioned them to follow, “Historically, humanity was evolved in an environment with little food. We ate a diet heavy in proteins, fiber, and natural carbs from fruit. Fat is an essential part of a human’s diet, but it is relatively difficult to find in nature because of this, the body adapted to make humans love and crave fatty and sugary foods for energy. Well since well into the twentieth eighteenth century, fatty foods were becoming commonplace, and easy to get our hands on, but the body wasn’t aware of that, so it continued to treat these new fatty foods the way our bodies would have treated them back when we were hunter/gatherers storing every last bit up for use later.”

Sunny followed after in fascination, “I see, so now you have…. Too much of a food that your body craves.”

The human looked over his shoulder, “You got it, and the body doesn’t know when to stop storing fat. It’ll just keep going. So if I were to sit on my ass all day eating chips, I would lose the muscle and I would get bigger as fat deposits were stored up for energy.”

Sunny shrugged, “What is the problem with that?”

The human tapped his chin lightly, “A few things, I guess. For me, at least, if I were to just stop working out, I wouldn’t be able to do my job as well, I wouldn't be able to run as far, or to jump as high, or to lift as much. And lifting myself up in a pullup would be impossible, and considering the amount of times we have all almost fallen off a cliff or had to haul ourselves up rope, you would think that would be a bad idea. Not to mention that the larger you are the harder your heart has to work as the blood supply is forced to expand, and since you aren't working out your heart it gets weaker but has to do more work, which --in turn-- increased the risk of heart issues. Compounding all that I wouldn't be able to sit in a cockpit or pilot a jet properly.”

Sunny shook her head, “That seems like a very… annoying model. You can never just relax. You always have to work to keep your body where it should be. And the amount of self control you have to have….”

The human laughed, “You have no idea how much self control  I need when a box of doughnuts gets in my way.” He sighed, “Keeping my abs as been a real struggle, but the UNSC drilled some self discipline into me when I was still young.”

“So you weren't always this big.”

The human snorted, “no not in the slightest. In fact, I was so skinny, you could see my heart beating through my rib cage.

Sunny grimaced.

“Yeah I know, kinda gross. Those are your two directions. If you don’t work out your either super scary skinny, or you get a bit big. If you’re working out right you get muscles.” He turned around flexing proudly for them to outline the lines of his biceps, chest and stomach.

Sunny would have rolled her eyes back into her head, but she supposed, now that she knew he had to work for it, she was at least somewhat proud of him.

“Ok, I have a question  then.”

“Shoot.”

“Can you get bigger?”

More laughter, “Oh yeah, totally, but I’m not THAT dedicated.”

They were just coming around a corner when the commander skidded to a halt eye to chest with an absolutely massive human.

Even sunny stepped back in surprise.

This human was large enough to look sunny in the eye, with shoulders about as wide as her, and a chest that looked like it could have benched a small car.

It was almost comical, a moment ago Sunny had assumed that the commander was a large human.

“Wow there big mean. I’’d rather not get steamrolled today, thanks.”

The large human glanced down at the commander.

“Sir.” He grunted before stepping around and walking up the hall.

Sunny watched him go, “What do you have to do to get that big!”

“You practically have to live at the gym.”

They turned the corner walking into a large room, with strange machines of unknown use.

ANd in here there were humans of all sizes and shapes, but most of them absolutely massive. Those who lacked height, did not lack muscle.

Male humans, female humans, all of the above.

A tiny female human stood at one of these machines carrying a bar on her shoulders with enough weight that sunny assumed it might crush her. Instead she squatted down to the floor and stood back up.

The captain blinked, “Holy shit.” He motioned towards her, “She squats more than me by the way. You see these guys are insane. I work out to maintain, these guys do it because its their hobby.”

Krill floated upwards to whisper in sunny’s ear, “For the muscle to enlarge, the fibers must tear open, and then the body comes back and repairs the tear to withstand the pressures that tore it in the first place.

Sunny stared at Krill incredulously, “So you're telling me, they just…. Tear themselves apart to get like that.”

The Commander left them standing in place walking over to the wall and jumping upwards, catching his hands around a black bar welded to the wall, the muscles in his back, just below the shoulder blades flexed as he pulled himself upwards, the muscles in his shoulder blades rolling under the skin.

They continued to watch as the commander did his set, a little bit of everything for demonstration purposes. Getting off one of the leg machines, one of these large female humans walked past sitting where he had just sat reaching out pulling out the peg and and bringing the weight almost to the bottom of the plates.

The commander leaned in, “See her, she could probably crush your skull using just her legs.” He sighed, “Man, I only WISH I could be that  badass.” He looked up at sunny, “Sometimes I come here just to knock myself down a peg.”

Across the room, one of these massive humans was hauling a huge bar lined with weight on either side up over his head like it was nothing.

“You see that, that would probably invert my spine if I tried to do it.” “Must you be so graphic?” Krill wondered 

“Yeah, because that’s how much of a wuss I am.”

Looking around, Sunny wasn’t convinced entirely of his status as a wuss. He had all the requisite muscle groups of, even the largest humans, and more than some. There were great swatches of the human population who,even here, were missing some things. 

A few of the humans had large arms, ut small legs, small legs, but large arms, no chest, or  chest and no abdominal muscles.

Yes sure, he may have been smaller than their largest, but he WAS well rounded arms, chest, stomach, legs, back and shoulders.

She found herself surprised at the smug satisfaction in comparing her human to the other humans.

Sure her human couldn’t bench THAT much, but he also had better legs, so there.

“You ok, Sunny?”

She turned her head to look at him.

“Just thinking.” She said 

He shrugged at her and returned to his work. 

It’s hard to be a human.

They have to work for everything they have, especially when it comes to their body. 

[bang-to-the-tan]

Moth to Flame

Chapter 14

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Anal Sex, Slight Stockholm Syndrome?, Possessiveness, Vampires (Biting, Blood-Sucking, Reference to Death), Language

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry…

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“And how are we doing today?”

You hum into your coffee with a grimace, eyes not straying from the television. 

Hoseok somehow takes your grim silence as an invitation to get closer, vaulting himself over the edge of the couch and plopping down beside you with a deep noise of personal satisfaction. A sharp breath of pain leaves your throat when the bounce jostles you, your legs, your abused holes. 

“Sorry,” he adds, quick, and you almost believe him. When you throw a tired look his way, he’s got this weird half-smile on, lips stretched straight across his face. It pushes his cheeks up into his eyes. When your gazes meet, he waggles his brows at you. It’s so close to cute, but you aren’t in the mood. “How are you feeling?”

“Are you going to keep asking me that until I answer?” you mutter, turning back to the tv. 

“Yeah, probably.”

“I’m feeling shitty.” 

“How’s your ass?”

“Feels shitty.”

“Yoongi really gave it to you yesterday.”

“He did indeed.” You take another careless sip of your coffee. This morning, you managed to complain loud enough to Namjoon that he went and got you milk and sugar for it before he left to go and do his mysterious ‘vampire stuff’. It’s still way too strong, but at least palatable. You even had a croissant when you got up—real food. Not exactly a king’s breakfast, but something. He promised to fill the cupboards for you when he got back, and you intend to keep him to it.  

“When is it my turn?” 

“We aren’t taking turns.”

“Weird, that’s not what you said yesterday.”

“Can I help you Hoseok? I’m trying to watch my show.”

There’s a pause. 

“Animal planet?” 

“I like the little furry things.”

“Same.”

“I’m not talking about genitals.”

“Oh. Then I take it back.” 

Silence sinks back in and you go back to absently imagining throttling him, half-listening to the narrator talk ceaselessly about mongoose. Mongeese? The little guy on the screen takes down a snake and damn near bites its head off. Wouldn’t it be cool if you had sharp little teeth and quick reflexes like that? Not sure the ego trip is worth it, though. Present company very much included.

“You aren’t getting rid of me today.” Oh, good. He’s decided to continue talking. 

“Am I not?”

“No yoga studio today. Joon’s going looking for covens. Even Yoongi’s headed out. It’ll just be you and me.”

“Oh, good. Just what I wanted.”

Hoseok chuckles, the sound far too low in his chest. “I know it is.” 

“No fucking today, Hoseok,” you throw pleading, exasperated look at him, shoulders sagging. “Come on, I’m seriously hurting.”

He raises his hands, palms forward, in a sign of surrender. He makes an expression that’s all innocence, wrongfully accused. “I’m just teasing you, pretty girl. It’s okay. We won’t do anything. If you wanna chill and watch your boring animal planet, that is all you’ll do.” 

Uh-huh. Right. 

“I’ll tell Namjoon.” You threaten. 

“Ooooh. Wouldn’t wanna get in trouble with the boss.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Hey.” Yoongi’s deep drawl comes from behind the sofa. You pay no mind to the shiver that slinks down your frame at just the sound of his voice. “I’m going out.”

“Hey.” you and Hoseok echo at the same time. 

“Did a good job on the couch,” Hoseok pipes up, cheerful. “Can’t even really tell there was a foursome on it 24 hours ago. Mostly.”

“Thanks.” 

You don’t hear him moving. Is he watching the show with you? You can’t tell. What do you suppose Yoongi’s opinion of mongoose is? Are?

“Hey,” he says again, quieter. 

“Hey?” you mumble, sensing that he might be addressing you.

“I...I’m sorry. For yesterday.”

“Sorry about fucking your ass like a maniac,” Hoseok clarifies helpfully. “Imagine that on a card.”

Yoongi ignores him. “I’m gonna go...try and get something to eat. I’m sorry...for what I said.” He draws a breath through his teeth. “Threatening.” 

“...it’s okay.” you say after a beat. 

“I’m sorry for the other things I said, too. Calling you stuff.”

“It’s fine, Yoongi.” It isn’t fine, not really. You aren’t sure how you feel about being called a slut when they’re no better, but the threatening to kill you feels like it should be crossing a very specific line. On the other hand...you can’t shake the sense that he’s being honest. Like he’s actually sorry. You won’t look at him, though. You know exactly what kind of look he has on his face. The kind of deeply hungry look etched into his very skin. And if he’s any worse off than he was yesterday, you aren’t sure either of you would survive if you made eye contact. 

Out of the corner of your vision, you catch movement. A long, veiny hand, hovering over the couch. You’re afraid for a moment that it might be reaching for you, but instead, he drifts towards Hoseok’s shoulder. It hesitates, as if waiting for a reprimand, but eventually touches down and curls faintly, familiarly. 

“Sorry for hazing you, Hope.”

Hoseok snorts. But his tone is genuine as you’ve ever heard him. “It’s alright. I know you aren’t okay.”

“I mean it.” He's oddly insistent. “I won’t do it again without permission.” 

Hoseok nods, pouting absently. “‘Kay.” 

Yoongi’s hand lingers before it slips off, and you aren’t sure what, exactly, sort of vibe is filling the atmosphere. 

“Good luck,” Hoseok adds, oddly gentle.  

“Thanks.” You can hear him travelling down the hallway to the front door. He has a habit of dragging his feet. The door is, by comparison, almost unbearably loud, and when it shuts, it shuts everything into a muted silence.

There’s a blissful quiet, but you can tell that Hoseok isn’t the kind of person to stay quiet for very long. He starts twitching, sniffing, scratching his neck, trying and failing to feign interest in your show.

“Heard you met Jackson.”

There it is. It’s begun. You resist the urge to sigh. “Yep.” 

“What did you think about Yugyeom?” 

“Who?”

“The baby of the coven. Sweet kid.”

“I didn’t meet any of the others.”

“Oh.”

Again, a silence settles between you. The mongoose on screen darts furiously, little legs spurring it over terrain with that kind of desperation that small animals are so good at. 

“Mark’s nice, too.”

“Do you really have nothing better to do?” You crane to peer at him in exasperation, brow furrowed. 

“I want to hang out with you.” Funny, considering he isn’t looking you in the eye. 

“We haven’t interacted at all unless it was for sex.”

“I know!” He throws up his hands, flopping backwards dramatically. “That’s the thing! But Namjoon seems to be really caught up in you. I’m curious, okay?” 

“I don’t know what to tell you but all you’re doing is making things awkward.”

“No.” There’s a weird tone in his voice that convinces you to look back to him. His grin has disappeared, and when he shrugs, it’s heavy, like the world is up there. “No, I don’t have anything better to do. And, I...honestly, not to be mean, but I can’t stand animal planet, alright?”

“What psycho doesn't like animals?”

“Animals are fine, it’s not the animals, just—like, okay, I get it!” He waves at the screen. “He’s really fast and he’s gonna eat smaller things and something bigger is probably gonna eat him. I get it. Once you’ve watched one, you’ve watched all of them.”

“What would you rather do, then, huh?”

“Anything! Let’s go out.”

“I’m not leaving this couch. I cannot walk.”

“We can do anything else. Anything.”

“What if I don’t want to do something with you?”

“Sheesh, I just want to get to know you.”

“I don’t know you!” you burst, throwing your own hands ceiling ward, rolling your eyes. “I don’t know any of you! I don’t know me! So sorry not sorry, it’s tough that you’re bored, but what I wanna do is sit here and watch animal planet until my taint stops fucking hurting!”

“Do you want to?” 

“Do I want to what.”

“Know me. I don’t mind talking about it.”

“You don’t seem to mind talking, full stop.”

“You aren’t wrong,” he adds, “Anything to distract from animal planet. Anything.”

“Alright, fine.” you lean back with a huff, rolling your eyes. “Tell me your story, Hoseok. Animal planet stays on during.”

“Poor family.” he starts off much less dramatically than you’d have thought he would, just diving right into it. “Really poor. Dirt poor. Ma and Pa worked triple, just to keep food on the table. Me and my sister worked too, soon as we could, delivering papers and stuff.”

“...You have a sister?” 

“Don’t interrupt.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah.” You can hear the shuffle of the fabric, feel the displacement as he moves to copy you, sinking further into the sofa’s cushions. “I did. I got really into music, too. Music, y’know, it doesn’t care, where you’re from. What you know, who you know. Started making it. Shitty stuff, really bad.” 

“How bad?”

“Incredibly bad.”

“I believe it.”

“Don’t be rude.”

You shrug, watching a mole dig a hole and wiggle into it with a faint feeling of jealousy. “Beginners are bad.”

“Yeah, well. I got better. Once Yoongi and I met...I mean—”

You crane your head, throwing him a surprised raise of your brows. “You knew each other? Like before?”

The dark expression that flits across his face reminds you of who he is. Who he’s been to you, regardless of the person he’s talking about now. His grin isn’t friendly. “What did I say about interrupting?” he muses, low, but he cocks his head and returns his empty stare to the television. “It was like magic. He could write like the devil, make all these tracks that made you feel things...He was a music god and I prayed in his church every day I could.” 

“So the…” you make fangs on either side of your mouth with your fingers. He pretends he doesn’t see you. 

“I don’t know where he got it. He said he knew a way to the top. He said...we’d never die.” Here, he chuckles, but like the smile, there’s no warmth in it. “I thought he meant by being famous. Y’know, like a sane person.”

“Yoongi changed you?”

“Yeah. He did.”  

Hoseok shifts on the couch again, his gaze turning into thoughtful as he reminisces. The light of the television plays off his hair, his fine cheekbones and long eyelashes. You think briefly of how that must have looked. A different version of him. A hardworking boy promised a way up through the rungs of his passion. He’s kind of understandable when you think of him that way. Doesn’t excuse his behavior, in your opinion. But understandable.

“We fell out for a while. My family grew old without me. I went to my mom’s funeral in a disguise. My sister...I mean, by the end, she didn’t even recognize me.”

“...I’m sorry.”

He shrugs. “It’s how things are supposed to be. I’m just not...supposed to be stuck for them. I’m supposed to go through them too. But he was still there for me. And eventually I came back to him. Scared of being alone, I guess. Together, we met Jin and Namjoon. And that’s...I mean, that’s pretty much it.” 

The tv switches to a commercial break, and above the glare of super-powered objects that will surely change your life for the better, the shouting people telling you exactly what you’re missing, you finally enjoy a pause of real silence that lasts longer than two minutes. Hoseok seems to have fallen out of whatever chatty mood had spurred this impromptu baring of his soul, but you aren’t sure, now that you have it, whether you preferred it when he was talking. The commercial break turns to a news report and suddenly Jin’s face is appearing on the screen, handsome eyes dark and expression serious. Suit sharp, hands clasped businesslike on the table in front of him. He’s reporting on this and that, talking about celebrities you don’t know, people in offices of power that you don’t remember. None of it particularly interests either of you as far as you can tell. Neither of you really belongs here anyways.

Until a picture flashes on the screen that you immediately recognize. 

“Oh shit.” Hoseok exhales sharply next to you. You’re inclined to agree with him. 

It’s you. Standing next to Namjoon in his hoodie and Yoongi’s sweatpants, scarf wrapped carelessly about your shoulders. It’s a little blurry, but there’s no mistaking either of you, even with Namjoon halfway turned away from the camera. Ahead, the sharp lights of the store, and all around you the racks of reasonably priced outfits.

“In other news, we’ve received an anonymous tip about the whereabouts of a local wanted criminal—” Oops, you’re having a really hard time breathing. Local wanted criminal? Namjoon. Oh, fuck. “—posted on social media, with the comment, quote, ‘look at that guy—”

Hoseok moves, scrambling for his phone stashed away in his back pocket, brow furrowed. 

Those kids. Those teens. Oh, shit. 

“—do not try to engage, and instead call law enforcement with the street address—”

How can Jin stay so calm, ratting his brother out like that? You scrutinize his face in shock, looking for some indication, some way out. But he only continues on, steely, unmoved.

“—for her involvement in the riots that have been plaguing—”

Wait. 

Did he say “her”?...

“Namjoon,” Hoseok says from next to you. He must have gotten his phone out, punched in the numbers to connect him to the other man. “Yeah, uh, everything’s okay with us, but...” 

Another picture flashes on the screen. 

It’s you again. 

But this time, it’s a mugshot. Your hair’s wild. Your makeup is smeared. And there’s a look in your eyes you don’t remember ever wearing in your life. But it’s you. You see that face in the mirror as often as you can bear it. 

“—while authorities confirm, and continue the search for the suspect.” 

“Again, if you see this woman, do not engage. Report to your nearest law enforcement office as soon as you can. Stay safe.” Jin finishes.

“Namjoon, I think we have a problem.” 

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[keyofjetwolf]

@silvermoon424​ I’m certainly happy to try! I’m going to guess you won’t enjoy the answer too much, though. I don’t have any secret or trick, you know? I WISH I DID. All I really have to share is what you’ve probably already heard: eat better, move more.

But I can break down a few things I’ve figured out, going through this. Things that you can do without a tiny furious lesbian nipping at your heels, insisting you Not Die. THOUGH IF YOU HAVE ACCESS TO THAT I DO RECOMMEND TAKING ADVANTAGE**

1. I think the most important first step is really commit to it. It sucks a lot, and it's not always easy, but if you don't sincerely want the results, you won't be able to power through the spots where it's hard.

2. You have to hold yourself accountable. A huge part of that is making yourself take note of and record what you're eating. It's one thing to grab a chocolate bar and eat it and forget about it, but it's another when you have to pull out your notebook and find the calories and factor in the serving size and write it down where you have to see it there looking back at you. We already know we shouldn't be doing it. Making it real and tangible in a way where you can't just put it out of mind can really hold your feet to the fire.

3. Don't have it around! Seriously, this one has helped me so much. Just don't have it! You know your weak spots (and if you don't, you'll soon discover them), you know the things you just want to grab out of the fridge or the cupboard. You can't do it if it's not there, bottom line. We don't keep jars of peanut butter in the house anymore (or at least not where I see them.) Hubby and I both cut out chips entirely. That isn't to say you can't ever have those things again, you just have to plan for them, and ensure you only have what you plan for. For example, the other night we were all on our own for dinner. I was deeply craving this particular brand of pretzel stick they have up here. So I saved my calories for the day, went to the store, bought the small bag, measured out and weighed the appropriate amount (turns out it was the whole bag, which was a pleasant delight, but if it hadn't been, I would've immediately given Doc what was over), and had those with some turkey. There wasn't anything about that meal that was HEALTHY, really, but because it's not my every day, and I planned it out and didn't exceed what I was allowed, it was completely fine. So if you have just a bone-deep craving for a doughnut, budget it in your calorie allotment for that day, and go get JUST what you're allowed. If you can only buy it in a quantity over what you’re allowed, buy the smallest you can and throw out or give away the rest. IMMEDIATELY, not the "I'll do it later" thing where it hangs around the house and then oops, it’s somehow magically gone. Set yourself up for success, not failure. Don't keep around what you know is a temptation.

4. Resolve with yourself that you'll be eating some stuff you don't much like. It sucks, but then, so does diabetes. In that vein though, you may find that after you've had it a few times, and your expectations realign, you like it more than you thought. You might even come to enjoy it! You have to persevere with it, though. Still, you may never like it! OH WELL. Consider how much more you'll like multiple daily injections of very expensive insulin and an even more restrictive diet which I guarantee will be full of shit you don't like. Eat the broccoli or die, right? Suddenly, broccoli doesn't seem so bad. (I actually really like broccoli, sorry, to pick on you, broccoli.) Honestly, many vegetables are pretty great, just most people don't prepare them right. Seasoning and roasting them is the way to go, which Holligay has repeatedly proven.

5. Portion control is a big factor. WEIGH AND MEASURE EVERYTHING. Don’t eyeball that shit, your senses are weak and will lie to you. Also -- and this may seem weird, but go with me -- check the size of your plates and bowls and shit. Again, our eyes are liars. The same amount of food looks very different depending on what size plate it’s on. The bigger stuff completely skews our perception of what a serving should look like. Get smaller plates.

6. This one may be a real toughie depending on your personal habits, but eating in front of screens is a path to madness. There's study after study after study showing that eating while watching TV or being on your computer takes you out of being mindful of what and how much you're eating. Sit at a table and focus on your meal! You’ll eat more slowly, and so recognize when you’re full. And the food tastes better when it’s your main focus, so you’ll be more satisfied, too. I’M NOT MAKING IT UP TRY IT

What you may notice here is an absence on the WHAT of what you should eat. That’s important too, to be sure, but I think that’s the part that’s a bit easier to start working in. There are tons of healthy, tasty recipes out there, but it’s the behavioural stuff that is, I think, the key to change.

And you can start today! Right now! Clearing your home of your temptations is a great huge first step. And don't do the "this bag is nearly full, what a waste, I'll just finish this up" thing. The money's spent, there's no reason to continue to do damage. (Or hide a reluctance to make the change under a convenient excuse.) It's garbage calories, it's deep fried air, it's frozen sugar, it tastes good but is killing you. Get rid of it.

If you’re of the snacking/grazing bent (I’m generally not, but I get those that are), buy snap peas, baby carrots, cherry tomatoes. Get some soy sauce. Dip and eat away! I think you'll soon find that if you're not hungry enough to snack on those? You weren't really all that hungry.

And combine all this with moving, too! Get yourself a step tracker. An ACTUAL step tracker, not your smart watch, which counts every twitch of your wrist as a step you most assuredly did not take. I’m currently using and recommend the FitBit Inspire, clipped to my bra. At my worst/highest points, I sometimes wouldn’t take more than about a thousand steps a day. SERIOUSLY. Again, having something to put these abstract ideas into harsh numbers is a great motivator. And you don’t even have to go outside! ON A HOT DAY I HAVE WALKED MILES IN A CIRCLE IN MY LIVING ROOM. I don’t look cool, but I DO meet my step goal for the day.

You may notice a numbers theme here, but weigh yourself. Keep track! I use a Renpho scale, which connects to an app on my phone and automatically logs my weight, AND I can sync it with my FitBit, so all my precious precious data is in one place. Now maybe you’re not such a nerd for data as I am (YOU’D HAVE TO BE REALLY REALLY NERDY), but again, it takes something abstract and nebulous and gives it to you in a way that our monkey brains understand. Making all this real to you is a huge part of putting the consideration for it in your brain. It’s not gonna be fun. There’s a lot of numbers you’re REALLY not going to like to see. But you have to know where you’re at to know where to go. And when those numbers turn into trends, and those trends start to show you real, concrete progress? Feels good. Feels real good.

Yeah, so! It’s a lot of words, and there’s a huge chance none of them are what you were hoping for. I wish I had something more neat and easy, but it’s just this. Commitment. Accountability. DATA SUCH HATEFUL WONDERFUL DATA

Best of luck!

(**) All joking aside, I’m incredibly fortunate to have Doc. As I think I’ve said before, when she heard about the pre-diabetes, she said “Okay, we’re done with this” and THAT VERY DAY laid out changes. She’s always ready with a foot in my ass. Also, as our family chef, she’s consistently in charge of my meals, which means I’m lucky enough to not need to think about it. MUCH LIKE A PUPPY I JUST EAT WHAT GOES IN MY BOWL. So if you have help and support available to you, take it.

The most important part, though, is you. However much help I have, I have to keep up my end, too. About eighteen months ago, I was SO CLOSE to a major goal, but ignored my depression and stopped caring and everything backslid terribly. I’m still working to regain all that lost ground. My point being, the number one vital element in making real change in you is YOU. Once you’re set there, the rest is details.

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Sunflower - Harry Styles AU Series (Volume 3)

The year is 1977 and it’s officially summertime. Y/N is spending it with her family at the Malibu Breeze Hotel, where she meets, aspiring musician, Harry Styles. The two clash in the beginning, but soon realize they may just need each other in the end. Find out just how life changing one summer can be in Sunflower, a Harry Styles AU. 

      Here is part 3 of Sunflower. Hope you enjoy it! 

    Vol. 1    Vol. 2 

Word Count: 2,913  The next morning I woke up just as the sunrise started peeking through the window in our room. I sighed rolling out of bed knowing I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Not that I really slept much after last night anyway. The adrenaline and anticipation of what might happen next took over my body despite knowing how tired I really was. Marianne most likely wouldn’t wake up for at least another three hours, so I decided to head down to the beach.

I changed into my bathing suit before pulling on some flowy pants and a shawl just in case it was a bit chilly. I quickly brushed through my hair before grabbing my book and my sunglasses to head out. I left a note for Marianne just in case and closed the door as quietly as I could.

When I made it down to the beach, I noticed how empty and quiet it was. It was soothing and peaceful being able to hear the waves crashing along the shore without the noise of chatter from the either guests on the beach. The sun shined bright as I walked along the shore with my feet in the water.

There were only a handful of people at the beach, a few of them being workers setting up chairs and umbrellas for the guests, and a couple who were walking or running. I held my book against my chest, afraid I might drop it into the water and it would be ruined. I paused briefly to capture the remainder of the rising sun above the water.

After a few minutes, I took a seat down on the sand and opened my book. I hadn’t really read much while I’ve been here, putting some much time in to work on my song for the audition. The audition I wasn’t sure I would even get and if I did I had no idea how I would tell my parents. My father probably wouldn’t approve of it mostly because he would see it as a distraction for what was to come in the fall with me heading off to University.

Or because he would view me as being more like Marianne and not myself. However, both of my parents know how much music means to me, as least in the sense of it being a hobby. But if I did get offered to be in Harry’s band, maybe that would show them that it’s more than just a hobby for me.

The wind started picking up a bit, blowing my hair in my face and the pages of my book around. I was focusing so hard on trying to read through the blowing pages that I didn’t realize someone approaching me until I saw their shadow. I glanced up and quickly saw Harry standing there.

He was shirtless, showing off even more tattoos and yellow running shorts. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark, black, sunglasses.

“Um, hi,” I said awkwardly, putting my bookmark in my book.

Instead of answering or telling me why he was here, he sits down next to me. There’s still quite a bit of space between the two of us, but I can still feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Sorry for uh.. approaching you like this,” he said. “I saw you while I was running,” he coughed.

I nodded looking at him completely confused on where he was going with this. I wanted to ask him straight out about last night and why he was currently in my presence, but I couldn’t bring the words to leave my lips.

“Um, yeah, so I thought I’d get this out of the way and let you know, we decided you’re in,” he said.

Wait… what?

“In?” I asked, waiting for him to elaborate.

He sighed, “The band, look, you’re real good, and seem like a cool chick, I guess, but I just don’t know if our music is right for you.”

“Excuse me?” I asked. “I’m not following you… I’m in, but you don’t think I’m right for your music? What does that even mean?”

“Look, you seem real nice and shit, but the music scene isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. The tag line Sex, drugs, and Rock N’ Roll exists for a reason,” he said.

“Are you trying to say I’m too… too innocent?” I asked with annoyance dripping from my voice.

“I mean… yeah,” he said scratching his head.

“Well last time I fucking checked, you don’t know a damn thing about me,” I snapped. “And even if you were right, who the fuck cares… You said it yourself that I’m good and what your band needs. I know it. Your band knows it. Jasper knows it. And you fucking know it. I don’t get what it is that you don’t like about me, but if this is your way to try and get me to not join your band, then you’ve got another thing coming, Styles. I’m gonna show you just how wrong you are.”

I didn’t even bother to give him a chance to respond before getting up from my spot on the sand and walking away leaving him behind.

**

Later that day, I was sitting by the pool trying to forget about my encounter with Harry a few hours earlier. I couldn’t believe he spoke to me in such a way. Actually, I can because he’s always been an ass whenever I saw him before, so I don’t know why I thought he would be any different. I guess the biggest issue was because he said even though I was good, I wasn’t a “good fit” for the music.

What the fuck did he even mean by that? I stared at the blank page of my journal and started writing down my thoughts. I had written about half a page when I noticed someone blocking the sun for the second time that day.

“Can I help you?” I sighed looking up at Jasper, who was standing there holding a bright, pink, fruity drink on a tray.

“Yep, he was right,” he said sitting the drink down on the table next to my chair.

“One who was right and about what, two I didn’t order anything,” I told him, looking at him for a drink.

“I saw Harry this morning and he told me about your uh conversation this morning about how he fucked up,” he said. “So, I offered to bring you a drink as a bit of a peace offering.”

“Do you really think a fruity little drink with a paper umbrella is gonna make a difference?” I rolled my eyes.

“No, but it is a conversation starter,” he said sitting down on the chair opposite of mine.

I sighed, taking the glass in my hand, sipping it, “Let me guess, you’re here to do damage control?”

“In a way,” he winced. “Look, Harry can be a major dick, I’m not denying that.”

“So, then it’s not just me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope, he has his moments with everyone,” he said.

“Riight,” I said. “Anyway, let’s get to why you’re really here.”

He sighed, “After hearing about what happened this morning, we’re afraid you’re not going to take the offer.”

“Oh, you mean the offer that I’m good enough for, but not the right “fit” for,” I asked. “And is Harry included in this “we”?

“Yes and no,” he said. “It’s complicated with Harry. He knows you’re what the band needs to set them apart from what’s going on in the local music scene, but his pride is fucking with him.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Think about it… how would you feel if you’ve spent years trying to make a name for yourself and not getting anywhere and then someone finally gives you a tip saying it’s cause you're missing something. Which is basically saying you’re not good enough,” he said.

“Oh, um, yeah, I can see why he’s a bit of ass,” I sighed. “I guess I didn’t realize.”

“So, what do you say,” he said. “Will you at least give it a shot? A few practices, a gig?”

I sighed, looking down at the drink in my hand, “But what if he’s right? What if I don’t fit…”

Why was I second guessing myself? And why was I so open with talking to Jasper, when he was still technically a complete stranger.

“Hey, he’s not right and even he knows that,” Jasper said. “Just give it a shot and if you don’t feel like you’re a fit, then fine. But let it be your decision.”

I sighed with a nod, “Okay.”

“Groovy,” he smiled. “Here’s the deets on where to meet us. See you tonight.”

I take the slip of paper from his hand, “Thank you.”

He gives a small smile before getting up from the chair and heading back to work. I sighed, pushing hair out of my face and opened up the note.

The Soundbooth. 10pm.

**

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when I showed up at The Soundbooth. I brought my guitar just in case it was needed and I got help from Marianne with my outfit. I wasn’t going to change myself to fit in with the band, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t change up my clothing style a bit. When I arrived, the building was smaller than I had imagined, but given the name I don’t know what I thought it was going to be a bigger venue.

As I waited in line, I quickly thought it may not have been the best idea for me to come alone, but my only option was to bring Marianne and while we were getting closer, I still wasn’t ready to bring her into my world. Not that this was really my world yet. Once I was finally inside, the place was even smaller than it appeared. People were packed in like sardines. Tables and chairs were practically on top of each other. My grip tightened on my guitar case as I searched around for a sign of either Jasper or Harry. I secretly hoped I could find Jasper first because I wasn’t sure how I would react if Harry saw me and seemed annoyed at my presence.

Surely, he must know I was coming after my conversation with Jasper, but even if he did know I’m sure there was a part of him that wished I hadn’t come. Unfortunately, Harry was the first one I saw, he was standing at a table close to the stage. I sighed debating on walking over there or just finding a spot in the back, but I knew the latter isn't really an option. If I was serious about not only being part of the band, but also proving him wrong, I had to do everything I could.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed my way over towards Harry and where he was standing. I wasn’t sure what I would say when I got there, but it was too late to turn back now.

“You came,” Harry said, sipping his drink once he noticed.

“Doubt I would?” I asked, sitting my guitar down.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t,” he said.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve ever lied to a female,” I mumbled.

Harry sighed running his hands through his hair, “I uh.. Look, I know we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot or whatever…”

“Bit of an understatement, but yeah,” I interrupted.

He rolled his eyes, “I’m trying to apologize, okay? I’m sorry for what I said this morning, but this… this is my life and if you’re going to be in my band, then I need to know you’re serious about it and this isn’t just some extra curricular type shit for you.”

I sighed, feeling a little guilty about my own behavior towards him, especially after my talk with Jasper earlier that day.

“No, I get it,” I told him. “Music means a lot to me, too. I would never do anything to jeopardize that for myself or anyone. Including you, I wouldn’t have gone to that audition if I wasn’t serious about it. I never would have sat through all those horrendous auditions and then made you listen to me, if this wasn’t something I wanted to do.”

“Good to know,” he said. “So, for tonight, I thought it would be good for you to see what one of our gig’s looks like and what our music sounds like. That way if you know exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”

I nodded,”Cool.”

“You can sit here, but I’ll be going backstage to warm up. We can talk more after the show,” he said.

“Okay,” I nodded, pushing myself up onto the barstool.

Surprisingly, he gave a small smile before walking away. Since I would be there for a bit, I decided to order myself something to drink and something to snack on. About five minutes later, Harry and the band come on stage. I don’t know why I felt nervous, but my palms were starting to sweat and my stomach felt like it was in my throat.

The first song they performed was very upbeat and once again it didn’t take long to notice that Harry was made for being on the stage. Even though the stage was barely a few feet long, he made sure to take up every inch of it. I definitely wasn’t that kind of performer, but if Harry was the front man, I wouldn’t need to be. With each song they played, I started picturing myself up on that stage and trying to figure out where I would be needed.

I was so focused on my own thoughts, I had completely blanked out on the show, until I heard Harry talking to the crowd.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He smiled. “I hope you’re enjoying our songs and having a groovy time. We don’t get to do this, if you don’t come to our shows, so thank you.”

The crowd cheered and hollered with their drinks in the air. I smiled a bit as I looked around.

“Now, we’re gonna do something a bit different tonight for the last song,” he said. “I want to bring a special guest up on stage.”

My head quickly snapped in the direction of the stage, I’m pretty sure I gave myself a bit of whiplash.

“We uh… have a friend in the crowd tonight and I’d like for her to come up here and perform for you all,” he said. “Y/N?”

My mouth drops as my eyes widen at the realization of why I’m really here. He had planned this all along. That sneaky bastard. I can’t believe he would set me up like this and without warning. If I could throw something at him, I would. But this is exactly what he wants. He wants me to freeze up, to run away, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. I down the remainder of my drink, jump down from my stool and grab my guitar. I walk up to the stage, feeling my body shake from both nerves and adrenaline. When I made it to the stage, popped open my case to retrieve my guitar, I could tell Harry was a little shocked.

I put my guitar over my shoulder and looked over at him, while Jasper brought out a second microphone.

“So, Harry, since this was your idea, do you have a song in mind?” I asked.

“Ladies, choice,” he smirked. “It’s only fair.”

“I assume you know Landslide?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He looked back at his band, who all nodded.

“Then let’s go with that, shall we?” I asked.

“Sounds good,” he said.

I looked out at the crowd as everyone’s eyes were staring at the stage. The bright lights of the stage were blinding me, but I could still feel everyone’s gaze on me. I took a deep breath before I started playing the opening chords on my guitar.

The audience got quiet, only a few murmurs, “I took my love and I took it down. Climbed a mountain and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills till the landslide brought me down, “I sang softly, nodding my head at Harry to take the next verse.

“Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? Hmmmm,” Harry sang next.

“Well, I’ve been afraid of changing. Cause I’ve built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older and I’m getting older too,” we both sang together.

We continued on with the rest of the song, staring at each other as we did. I’m not sure what it was, but singing with him felt so natural, so easy.

I couldn’t help but feel something burning inside of me as we sang the final line together, “Oh, the landslide will bring it down.”

I strummed the end note on my guitar as the audience cheered the loudest they had the entire night. But it didn’t matter how loud they were because all I could hear was the beating of my heart as Harry and I remained where we were, our eyes never losing contact.

**

Welp, here it is! Finally. Let me know what you think and if you hav anything you want me to include for the next update! :) 

[ur-not-reddie]

Where Have You Been?

a/n: thank you all so much for 2.2k!!! to celebrate, here’s some reddie :)

pairing: reddie

word count: 1689

warnings: underage drinking, smut

aged to 19

-

Eddie walks up the front porch steps to Beverly’s house. He’s not inside yet and he can already feel the bass of the music vibrating through his chest. His hand grabs the cool metal of the door handle and he steps inside, being met with a sea of sweaty, drunk college kids. Eddie looks around, not recognizing most of these people. He pushes his way through and makes it to the kitchen where all the drinks are. Eddie grabs a red Solo Cup and starts pouring vodka in it, mixing it with Sprite. He turns around, ready to go find Beverly when he meets eyes with someone he hasn’t seen in over a year.

It’s Richie.

Richie and Eddie lock eyes for what seems like forever. Eddie feels his heart pounding expeditiously in his chest. He grips his cup tightly as he looks over Richie, not believing what he’s seeing. Eddie looks next to Richie and notices a girl standing next to him. She’s blonde and skinny, Eddie would find her attractive if he didn’t like boys. Eddie then feels tears prick at his eyes as all the memories of him and Richie start flooding back. He turns on his heels and walks away, still trying to find Beverly.

The thing is, Richie and Eddie dated about a year ago before they broke up due to Richie spending time with his female lab partner. Eddie started to grow paranoid that Richie was catching feelings for her and Richie kept denying it, which is the truth. Richie eventually left Eddie at the end of last summer, it’s November now. Eddie did notice that the girl Richie brought to the party wasn’t the girl Eddie was worried about and that hurts him even more. Richie seems to be moving on so easily while Eddie is stuck in this lovesick trap.

You see, Eddie is still very much in love with Richie and would take him back in a heartbeat, even though Richie brought a different girl with him to the party. Eddie feels hurt and confused. Why would Richie break things off with him and then not come alone to the party? Why wouldn’t he take Eddie back like Richie said he would after they broke up, giving Eddie false hope.

Eddie tries his best to shake off his sorrow and keeps looking for the redheaded girl. He finally spots her, calling out her name. Beverly makes her way over to Eddie and greets him.

“Hey! You made it!” Beverly says in a perky tone, pulling the small male into a warm embrace. Eddie hugs her back before pulling away and taking three big gulps of his drink causing Beverly to chuckle. “You better slow down there or you’re gonna puke,” Eddie pulls the cup away from his mouth, exhaling before speaking.

“Do you know that Richie is here?” Eddie asks, his tone desolate.

“Yeah,” Beverly says with a sigh, also taking a sip of her drink.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wanted you to come. I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t have come and I wanted you to, so I didn’t tell you.” the short-haired girl says truthfully. Eddie sighs heavily as he downs the rest of his beverage which makes Beverly stare at him with wide eyes. Eddie looks at her, frowning.

“I’m getting another drink,” Eddie says as he starts to walk away.

“Eddie!” Beverly shouts after him, but he ignores her and makes his way back to where all the drinks are.

Eddie mixes himself another one and drinks half of it before refilling it again. He’s all alone in the kitchen, lost in his thoughts when a voice startles him and snaps him back to reality. He turns around and is met with Richie again, but this time he’s alone. Eddie’s not sure what to say, so he just stands there awkwardly.

“Hi,” Richie says with a half grin, stepping closer to Eddie which causes Eddie to take a few steps back. Eddie just stares at Richie, not knowing what to say or do - he’s frozen. A part of him wants to run, but the bigger part wants to stay. “Do you mind if we go somewhere and talk?” Eddie swallows the lump in his throat before nodding his head. Richie smiles widely as he leads the way to an empty room and Richie locks the door.

“S- so, what do you want to talk about?” Eddie asks in a shaky tone.

“I just think we need to clear things up,” Richie bites his lip nervously. Eddie cackles bitterly at Richie’s words.

“I think you made it pretty clear after you broke up with me… If you’re here to try and explain yourself, I don't want to hear it.” Eddie crosses his arms as he narrows his eyes slightly at Richie. Even over a year later, Eddie is still heartbroken as ever. “You really hurt me, Richie. You really, really did…” Eddie can feel tears stinging at his eyes again.

“I know,” Richie says softly, his voice culpable. “But I’m here to apologize, okay? I’m sorry, I really am.” Richie sighs again as he steps even closer to Eddie, Eddie backing up until his back hits the wall. “I never stopped loving you. I was upset and hurt that you doubted me and thought I was liking my lab partner, but it was never true. I broke it off because I was angry and hurt that you didn’t believe me. But I regret that decision and I want you back so fucking badly.”

That’s when Richie leans down and plants his lips on Eddie’s softly. Eddie is shocked, unable to comprehend what’s happening for a moment. After reality sets in, Eddie kisses back, wrapping his arms around Richie’s neck. The kiss starts off slow and gentle, but heats up rather quickly. Richie slips his tongue inside Eddie’s mouth, exploring as his hands slide up and under Eddie’s shirt. Eddie hums at that as he tangles his fingers in the base of Richie’s hair.

Richie starts kissing along Eddie’s jaw and down his neck which causes soft moans to fall past Eddie’s lips. Richie takes off Eddie’s shirt and lets it fall to the floor. He then begins sucking and biting dark bruises all along Eddie’s neck and collarbones. Eddie’s moans grow louder as he tilts his head to the side. He tugs at the hem of Richie’s shirt and Richie breaks contact with Eddie’s skin as he takes off his own shirt. Eddie eyes Richie’s toned abdomen, he definitely missed this sight.

Richie picks up Eddie, crashing their lips back together as he lays Eddie down on the bed. Richie’s hands slide down Eddie’s sides then landed on the button of his jeans. Richie undoes them and pulls Eddie’s jeans down his legs and onto the floor, right next to his shirt.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” Richie breathes out as he rests his forehead against Eddie’s.

“I’ve missed you too,” Eddie smiles as he puts his fingers back in Richie’s hair. Richie’s lips form into a smile, matching Eddie’s.

Richie then takes off his jeans as well. He goes back to kissing Eddie roughly before yanking Eddie’s boxers off. Richie shoves his fingers in the other male’s mouth, telling him to suck on them. Eddie does as told, swirling his tongue around and sucking on Richie’s fingers like his life depends on it.

“Good,” Richie says with a growl as he takes his fingers out of Eddie’s mouth.

Richie travels his hand down and stops at Eddie’s ass, groping and kneading it before he sticks a finger inside of Eddie. Eddie moans loudly as Richie starts to pump his finger. After a bit, Richie adds a second finger and starts pumping them ever faster. Eddie grips the sheets tightly, nearly squealing as Richie hits Eddie’s sweet spot. Richie adds a third finger, really spreading Eddie open. Richie pumps his fingers at a rough pace, bringing Eddie close to the edge before pulling his fingers out.

“Fuck!” Eddie breathes out, throwing his head back as he pants heavily. He lays back against the bed, taking a deep breath as he looks Richie in the eyes. “I was so close,” Eddie whines.

“I know,” Richie says with a sultry smirk. He spits in his hand, rubbing it all around his length before lining himself up with Eddie’s entrance and he starts to push in.

“O- oh! Fuck, R- Richie!” Eddie throws his head back, wrapping his arms around Richie’s neck.

Richie’s thrusts start off slow and deep until Eddie begs for Richie to go faster. Richie obliges and starts thrusting faster and harder, moaning into Eddie’s ear. Eddie scrapes his nails down Richie’s back, leaving dark red lines. Richie winces at the pain, finding it pleasurable as he hits Eddie in his sweet spot once again. Richie keeps at it, striking it over and over causing Eddie to let out high pitched moans.

“I- I’m close!” Eddie manages to say through his moans.

“Go on, baby, cum for me.” Richie orders seductively in Eddie’s ear.

After a few more harsh thrusts, Eddie cums in between his and Richie’s stomachs. And after a few moments or so, Richie riding out Eddie’s high before Richie cums inside of Eddie, Eddie humming at the feeling. Richie’s hips eventually come to a halt and he slowly pulls out of Eddie, laying next to him. Eddie scoots closer to Richie, laying his head on his chest.

“God, I missed that.” Richie chuckles softly.

“Me too,” Eddie giggles along. Richie strokes Eddie’s back softly as they lay in comfortable silence. After a while, Eddie breaks it. “So what does this make us?” Eddie asks, hesitating.

“What do you want us to be?” Richie asks, peering down at the smaller boy in his arms.

“I-” Eddie stops himself, thinking hard before talking. “I want us to be together again.”

“Okay,” Richie smiles. “Then we’re back together.” Eddie looks up at Richie, his face beaming. Eddie cuddles close to Richie before asking to go for another round, and so they did.

a/n: i hope you all enjoyed this little imagine. if you want a part two to this, please let me know! i’m willing to add more parts to this. anyway, thanks for reading!

[chelsfic]

Guillermo the Heartless - Guillermo x Nandor (part two to the so-called oneshot)

WWDITS Masterlist <-- click for part one

Summary: Nandor is nervous about his ex-master, Simon the Devious, coming to the house.

A/N: Really? Really, Chels?

Warnings: Non-con, Dub-con, Stockholm Syndrome, Past abuse, Hand-feeding kink, Praise kink, Sex slave, Vampire Guillermo/Human Nandor, Dom/Sub, Dead dove--please.

---

“How do I look?”

Nandor secures the final button on his master’s cardigan and steps back. Guillermo is dressed in dark wash denim jeans, gleaming patent leather shoes, a black dress shirt and one of his signature sweaters--the black and gold striped cardigan. Nandor’s eyes roam up and down the vampire’s body, lingering on his favorite parts: his full, round belly, his thick thighs, the deceptively soft-looking hands, the stubbled edge of his jaw...his pouty lips. Nandor swallows, a blush visible above the line of his full beard.

“You look beautiful, master,” He answers truthfully, meeting Guillermo’s eyes for a second before quickly lowering his gaze. Guillermo has never punished him for admitting to his impertinent attraction and...feelings. But Nandor still feels the raw edge of panic whenever he feels as though he’s let too much slip out. 

The vampire steps closer, reaching out and wrapping impossibly strong hands around Nandor’s biceps, squeezing gently. Guillermo could easily break his arms, liquefying his bones with the flick of a wrist. Nandor thinks about the scars on his legs, his arms, his chest, his back. No, no, no. Guillermo will never hurt him...not like that. Guillermo is good. Guillermo gives him food and clothes and he buys him books and movies. He doesn’t force him to live in a cage no bigger than a dog crate. He doesn’t glamour him into paralysis and torture him. He doesn’t...He isn’t…

“Baby...” Guillermo’s soft tone cuts through the invasive thought spiral consuming Nandor’s mind, “tell me what’s wrong.”

Nandor clears his throat, looking up and holding his master’s gaze as he responds, “I’m just...a little nervous…”

Guillermo lifts his hands to cup Nandor’s cheeks and Nandor flinches dramatically before settling into the soft touch. His ass still stings from the spanking he’d received the previous night for questioning his master’s plan. He doesn’t want to be bad again, but he’s so scared…

“Because Simon is coming,” Guillermo states, not really needing a confirmation but Nandor nods anyway. 

“Mmhmm,” Nandor squeaks and then remembers himself, “Yes, master.”

Guillermo smiles at him, finding something about all this amusing, and Nandor’s heart skips a beat. His master has a megawatt smile and it feeds his soul to see it, even if he’s unsure whether or not Guillermo is laughing at him or trying to comfort him.

“Have you eaten yet?” Guillermo asks and Nandor’s brain takes a second to adjust to the rapid change of topic.

He shakes his head slowly, big brown eyes looking down into his master’s with a childish look of guilt.

Guillermo huffs a laugh, “Were you waiting for me?”

Nandor nods, letting his lips curl upward in a cautious smile. Guillermo rolls his eyes. 

“Alright. Come on, baby.”

Guillermo leads the way into the back of the house to the little kitchen. They don’t always do this anymore, but Nandor is feeling especially shaky and vulnerable tonight. Being fed from his master’s hand was once a degradation that filled him with burning embarrassment. Now it’s the ultimate comfort to Nandor. It makes him feel small, cared for and--most importantly--safe. His master cares about him enough to cook for him and feed him with his own hands. 

“What do you feel like having?” Guillermo asks, opening up the cupboards over the stove to peer at the contents. Nandor looms at his side. He’s far taller than his master but, somehow, he feels smaller in his presence. He reaches up to the top shelf and pulls down a can of beef stew, handing it to Guillermo wordlessly. 

The vampire grabs a pot from the rack beneath the cabinets and opens a drawer to get the can opener. He looks up at his human with an arched brow, “Do you want to sit down or do you want to cling?”

Nandor is practically glued to his master’s side, his fingers delicately clutching the knit fabric of his sleeve as he watches him dump the contents of the can into the pot. 

“Is it okay…? If I...cling?” Nandor’s voice is barely there. But it is there. And even if his words come out as a pathetic, hopeful question, at least he has words. He still remembers the months on end that Simon kept his brain locked down, denying him the ability to speak, to cry, to scream. It took weeks after he came to be Guillermo’s familiar before he felt safe uttering a single word.

He’s watching his master’s face like a hawk, gauging his reaction and trembling in anticipation. Is he annoyed? Angry? Disgusted? Finally, Guillermo smiles and Nandor is almost light-headed with relief.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” he answers and Nandor thinks that the look he gives him is almost warm. Like maybe he’s feeling the same way that Nandor feels. Like Guillermo is the ocean and he’d willingly drown just to feel his embrace.

He watches Guillermo stir the soup, condensation fogging the thick-rimmed glasses that he only wears out of habit and because they look cool. He picks up a spoonful and holds it out to Nandor to test.

“Hot enough?” he asks and Nandor nods. “Alright. Go sit at the table.”

The chair squeaks as he pulls it out and Nandor folds his long body down into it, looking like a giant at the rickety old kitchenette table. Guillermo comes over and sets down a bowl heaping with steaming hot stew. He takes a seat beside Nandor and turns to face him, dipping the spoon into the bowl and holding it up before his familiar’s lips. Nandor locks eyes with him as he leans forward, opens his mouth and takes the food off the spoon. He feels a thrill in his chest to be so thoroughly taken care of and he thinks the gleam in Guillermo’s dark eyes means that he’s enjoying it, too. He hopes so. He scoots forward in his seat until their knees brush together, needing the added comfort of physical touch.

Guillermo gives him another spoonful and starts talking while Nandor chews, “I’m going to tell you how things will go tonight. I’m taking care of you right now and I’m gonna take care of you tonight when Simon and his crew arrive. We’re going to meet in the fancy room. You’re going to sit at my feet like you always do. You don’t have to speak, you don’t have to even look at him if you don’t want to. But you have to be there, alright? Do you think I liked having to hurt you last night?”

Guillermo sets down the spoon and his eyes are suddenly intense as he waits for an answer. Nandor shakes his head, swallowing before speaking, “No, master. I’m sorry--”

“I know you’re sorry,” Guillermo cuts him off. “I am too. But I had to teach you. I’m your master, Nandor. If I tell you to do something, you do it. And you trust that I won’t ask you to do anything that would cause...permanent damage.”

He holds up another spoonful of stew and Nandor stares at it for a minute, his throat rapidly convulsing as a single tear rolls down his cheek. Guillermo sighs.

“If you’re a weepy mess when Simon gets here, I swear...What is it? Speak,” he commands with a sharp edge of warning in his voice.

Nandor takes a shaky breath, wanting desperately to ask something but terribly afraid of what the answer might be. His mind flashes back to social gatherings, parties, where Guillermo had lent out the use of his familiar’s warm mouth to his vampire guests. 

Nandor finally forces himself to form the words, “Are you going to l-let them...use me?”

Please don’t make me say it.

Guillermo takes in a sharp breath and holds it for a long, silent moment, during which Nandor wonders if his master is picturing him gagging on his ex-master’s dick with tears running down his face. He knows Guillermo likes it when he cries. 

Finally, mercifully…

“No, Nandor,” Guillermo says, stirring the stew and once again lifting the spoon to his lips. “No one but me will touch you tonight.”

---

Nandor stands in the front hallway quietly coming apart. He’s still attached to his master’s side and he can’t seem to keep his hands from seeking out and subtly touching him. His long fingers flutter at the hem of Guillermo’s sweater, clinging to the fabric like a security blanket. Guillermo is largely ignoring him. He glances down at his watch with an annoyed frown. Nadja and Laszlo stand on the far side of the hallway.

Laszlo suddenly pipes up, “I say, Guillermo, any chance of a quick nip before Simon’s posse arrives?”

He makes a show of eyeing Nandor and mimes biting him. Nandor shrinks even further into Guillermo’s side. 

“Fuck off, Laszlo,” Guillermo grunts and Nandor almost weeps in gratitude. Instead he does something unthinkably bold. He leans down and drops his head onto Guillermo’s shoulder, nuzzling his face into the vampire’s smooth, cool neck. Throughout his time as Guillermo’s familiar, Nandor has become increasingly needy in terms of physical touch. Once he started to trust Guillermo and then, later, to love him, he began to seek out small touches from him whenever he was in need of comfort. Tonight, Nandor is especially needy.

The doorbell rings and Guillermo shrugs his shoulders, dislodging his familiar’s head. One of the thralls, lower than familiars but still above victims, answers the door and allows the vampires inside with an obsequious bow. Simon the Devious, flanked by Count Rapula and Mr. ‘50s, strides into the house like he owns it. Nandor shudders and keeps his gaze firmly fixed to a spot on the floor.

“Guillermo! Nadja! Laszlo! I haven’t seen you since you stole my favorite little pet!” Simon’s voice is booming and obnoxious. Nandor’s grip on the back of his master’s sweater tightens but he remains otherwise perfectly still. 

“Good evening, Simon,” Guillermo greets, perfectly unaffected by Simon’s grandstanding. “You’re late, so why don’t we get straight down to business, then we’ll have more time to enjoy the virgins waiting in the cell.”

Everyone shuffles into the fancy room. Simon takes a seat on one couch with his crew members standing stoically behind. Guillermo takes the opposite couch, Nadja and Laszlo remain standing and Nandor sinks to his knees at Guillermo’s feet with an intense feeling of relief. On the floor he’s beneath notice. He can hide his face in the side of his master’s thigh and tune out the vampires’ territory negotiation happening over his head. He feels Guillermo’s fingers sink into his hair and begin stroking him as he makes his opening offer. Nandor sighs, wrapping his hand around Guillermo’s ankle and shutting his eyes, maybe he can fall asleep…

“You certainly have him well-trained, G-man…”

Time has passed. Nandor had floated away into his head for a while, lulled by the rhythmic motion of his master’s fingers in his hair. But now the business portion of the evening seems to be wrapping up and Simon’s voice cleaves through the air, penetrating the little protective bubble that Nandor has imagined around himself. His fingers tighten on Guillermo’s ankle.

“Maybe he just prefers my company over yours, Simon. I hear you find it rather challenging to keep human help. Alive, that is,” Guillermo’s voice is soft but full of lead. 

“You’re so hilarious, G! The dreadful Guillermo the Heartless, gone soft for a pathetic human pet,” Simon laughs and then his tone changes and Nandor knows, without looking, that the vampire is addressing him directly now, “You might think you’re living high now, human, but you’ll always be the same mewling insect who begged me to kill him--”

Nandor can’t help it. He feels the sob clawing up his throat and he presses his face desperately into his master’s thigh to try and muffle it. If he’s weepy, Guillermo will be angry, he’d said so in the kitchen…

“Nandor,” his master cups his jaw, angling his face up to look at him. Nandor’s heavy brows are drawn together and his eyes are glassy but he’s trying to keep it together. “Do you want to show Simon what a good familiar you are now that you have the right master?”

Guillermo leans down and presses his lips to Nandor’s ear speaking lowly, “Pretend it’s just you and me, baby.”

Guillermo’s hands go to his belt buckle and Nandor understands at once. His face flushes a brilliant red but he moves into position at once, kneeling between his master’s spread legs and waiting expectantly as Guillermo reaches into his pants and frees his half-hard dick. 

“Thank you, master,” Nandor says and he speaks louder than he likes so that Simon will hear him clearly. His master wants to show him off, wants to show Simon how much better a master he is than him. Nandor wants to help him. He bends forward and wraps his hand around the base of Guillermo’s cock, licking a long, wet stripe along its length before taking the head into his mouth and beginning to suck. He loses himself in the familiar task, forgetting his fear and anxiety and instead focusing on pleasing his master.

He hears Simon’s voice vaguely in the background, sounding a little defeated but attempting to rally, “I believe someone said something about a virgin feast?”

There’s some movement and commotion and suddenly he hears his master’s voice, slow and heavy with the influence of his hypnotic power, “You will sit down next to me and give me your neck.”

Guillermo’s hands never leave his familiar’s hair, stroking and petting gently as Nandor drools around his length and bobs down, attempting to take more of him down his throat. The victim, utterly mindless, jostles Nandor as they clamber onto the couch, baring their neck.

Guillermo shoves the human back and says, “You will be more careful of my familiar. Now put your neck in my mouth.”

Nandor knows the exact moment that Guillermo begins to feed. His master’s fingers tighten in his hair and he starts rolling his hips up, thrusting into Nandor’s mouth enthusiastically as he drinks his fill from the human. 

“Fucking show off…” Simon mutters darkly.

But Nandor doesn’t hear. He’s completely unaware of everything else in the room, in the world, except for his master’s hands and cock and the sounds he’s making low in his throat as he drinks the virgin dry and fucks Nandor’s mouth. The victim falls to the floor at Nandor’s side and Guillermo presses his hands down on the back of Nandor’s head, holding him down as he ruts against his face, finally finishing with a smug sigh. He lets go of Nandor’s head, trusting that his familiar knows to wait until he’s finished spilling his plentiful, vampiric seed down in his mouth. Nandor’s throat convulses as he swallows and swallows, breathing hard through his nose and straining to look up and meet his master’s gaze. His eyes are pleading and vulnerable. Begging his master for what he needs. 

Guillermo’s blood stained lips quirk into a smile and he obliges, “You are such a good boy for me, Nandor. So, so good.”

“Alright, alright. We get the picture,” Simon grumbles in the background as Nandor finally pulls away from Guillermo’s softening dick. His lips are swollen and his jaw aches but when he turns to see that Simon’s crew is getting ready to leave, having finished their business and sated their unholy hunger, he feels nothing but overwhelming relief and happiness. 

“If you ever tire of my leftovers...I’ll be happy to take him off your hands,” Simon remarks casually as he strolls toward the door.

Guillermo’s voice is as cold as granite as he replies, “That’s not going to happen.”

---

Nandor lies in the cramped twin bed wedged into one corner of Guillermo’s crypt. His master told him to go to bed, relieving him of his valet duties for the evening as a reward for his good behavior. Nandor watches Guillermo moving about the room, blowing out candles, slowly getting undressed and ready for his slumber. He hopes he’ll come and kiss him goodnight before getting into his coffin, but he doesn’t want to push his luck by asking. 

Nandor’s eyelids feel heavy. The stress and fear of the evening have taken their toll and he’s barely clinging to consciousness when he feels a weight on the mattress beside him. 

“Move over,” his master’s voice sounds tired, too, and Nandor wonders if maybe Guillermo had been just as worried about the meeting tonight.

Nandor shifts closer to the wall and swallows his shock when Guillermo climbs all the way in with him, drawing the blankets up over both their bodies and wrapping and arm around Nandor’s large frame. 

“Master?” he asks breathlessly. They’ve never...just slept together before. 

“Shhh, Nandor,” Guillermo murmurs, placing a kiss to the back of Nandor’s neck. “Go to sleep.”

[ambistep]

Play Date, part 2

Herald’s got more training, Nehal has a mission and lots of weird feelings - she should probably see someone about that. Mina just has to sit and watch. Can you separate the art from the context or is Frederic Remington’s work irredeemably tethered to the atrocities of America’s westward expansion? Maybe we’ll talk about it.

Retribution spoilers, implied hypothetical eye trauma, Nehal PoV. Extensive Headcanon for her character~

Part 1 is here

It’s weird seeing her like this - in a gym, in gym clothes. Like she’s just some sort of normal person, some young professional getting in a workout before she goes back to the office. Like she’s not your weirdly comforting-and-psychotic boss who puts on a suit of armor to go stomp in the faces of the city’s hailed heroes and government pigs alike. Only the scars really give her away - one along her brow, the back of her left hand, the burn on the side of her neck. Every now and again, you catch a look in her eyes, past her eyes, and catch a glimpse of… whatever batshit craziness it is that’s fueling Clarity. You wonder if other people notice - or maybe you imagine you notice because you’re looking for it. Whatever that thing is, it’s wild.

But that’s what makes it fun, right? 

This time, she catches you looking, “...you listening?” Shit. You weren’t. Does she know? She could be reading your mind - she says she doesn’t, she promises but… like, the government says they aren’t spying on you either, so who knows?

“...yeah.”

“Worst lie you’ve told all day,” she crosses her arms - long sleeves, always long sleeves, you noticed - that’s deliberate, everything she does is deliberate - maybe it’s more scars there? She raises an eyebrow, coolly chiding you, “You lose focus for one second in this game a-”

“-and it all comes apart. I know, I know. I can handle it.” You can’t help but grin. She’s worse than Mom - well, that’s not true. But damn if the similarities aren’t there.

“Don’t underestimate him - he’s bad with real world stuff, logistics, common sense but he reads people well, good with emotions, sensitive.” Her voice is low, cutting, steely, you have to nod, trying to do your part to be a good student. “You use that, carefully. Like we talked about.”

“Like we talked about ten times already, I got it, Mina.” It still felt weird, calling her that, but a little part of you is proud you got that name out of her, that she trusted you enough to let you in on this. It almost seems like a real name but who knows with her?

“He’s here. Laugh. Be funny.” She does that thing, where she changes modes - the hard, bitter lines vanish from her face, years seem to melt away, and you’d swear it was some sort of shapeshifting power. She puts a hand on your shoulder, smiling with what seems to be real warmth, maybe real affection - damn, she’s good at this. “You’re a natural, just… be Nehal.”

You do the same, not as dramatic as her mode switch - but there’s still a small leap from you to well-behaved you - . You throw up your hand in an enthusiastic wave to the angel-headed hero striding into the gym. 

He’s cute - but he looks cuter on television, you have to admit. Maybe he wears makeup? Doesn’t really strike you as the sort. Pretty blue eyes, makes you want to jab them with your thumbs - bad instinct, weird instinct, Nehal, what the hell? Maybe examine that drive later. 

“Herald, this is Nehal.” Clarity smiles, just bubbly enough to make it creepy, soooo creepy. Herald doesn’t notice - of course he doesn’t, because he doesn’t know who she is, so it’s not creepy for him, duh, Nehal. “Nehal, this is… well, this is your play date. ...Herald can get wrapped up, we’ll get started.”

He smiles, and it’s dazzling, makes you want to pull out his teeth or kiss those pouty lips, you can’t be totally sure which is, cool, cool cool cool. Not weird. “Sure, Mina.” He drops his bag, unzips it and starts to wrap up his hands - you see the slight favoring of his right leg she mentioned, but he’s not thinking about his leg, he’s looking at you, “Hey, I appreciate you being cool about this - Nehal, right?” 

Maybe he thinks you’re starstruck or something - maybe the boss thinks you’re playing that up on purpose - but it’s just weird, talking to him, like everything’s normal, like he’s not a Los Diablos Ranger, government law enforcement. And he’s not, he’s… he’s only a couple of years older than you, right? Just some guy. Weird. “Oh, um, yeah. Sorry.” You laugh, a nervous laugh, “It’s all cool, everything’s cool… Herald.” You try out the name - it isn’t his name. Clarity said he was a bit private about the thing. She knew, but she wasn’t telling, so you wouldn’t mess it up. Fair.

The boss settles back on one of the weight benches, doing her Teacher bit, her Pop Quiz voice. You know it well. “Alright, Herald, she’s smaller than you, she’s had training, so what’s she going to do?”

He claps his hands together, working out his limbs, “Uh, she’s going to… probably get in close, try and use my momentum against me.” He tosses his hair back, shrugs his shoulders at you. You flex a little, pose like you’re a threat, flash him a goofy wink. Just a student. You like iced coffee and avocados, right? You are like the other girls. Smile. 

“And what are you going to do?”

Herald spreads out his stance a little, but it’s uneasy, unpracticed, clearly not his preferred style,  “I’m going to plant, use my reach.” 

“Alright, Nehal, what about you? He’s bigger than he seems, and despite that goofy smile, he knows how to handle himself.” Clarity - no, Mina - has her eyes on you.

“Um, I dunno, go for his legs, right?” Your voice hits an octave higher than you meant to. Maybe that was too much. She raises an eyebrow a little - so, yeah, too much. You’re supposed be a nice girl for now, not stupid. 

“Alright, you’re going to take turns going through your forms, slowly. I want you to watch each other’s movements, watch shoulders, watch hips. Learn. We’ll… go through all that, some drilling, then sparring.

You lean in and bump your wrapped fist against him, “Let’s make this look good, I don’t want her to get all grumpy.”

He laughs, an easy laugh, so he knows exactly what you mean, “Don’t worry, I’m already on thin ice.”

~

He’s not as bad as Clarity had said - maybe she’s just too demanding. She’d made it sound like he was a rank amateur, some kid, but he’s actually pretty decent. Maybe not as good as the boss or Charge or something, but most people aren’t. You’ve worked up a real good sweat - it’s been fun, fighting him. He’s got such a pretty jawline, and an easy humor, a lightness about him with just a tinge of sadness you can sniff off of him - you see it in the worried looks he holds after knocking you on your ass in the last bout. He comes from money, you’d wager, it’s just something in that flavor of softness.

But not this time - he’s stronger than you, stronger than he looks, maybe from his Boost? But he’s still slow, and the boss is right, his heart’s never really in it, he can’t make himself fight hard in the gym, because it’s just a game for him, and you’re just some girl. You go in for the right knee, and his footwork is slow, he’s protecting it, protecting it too much, so he’s not ready when you slip your arm around his and twist. Insufferable, pretty blond thing.

“That’s enough.” Clarity’s voice brings you back to good senses - that command, that threat in her throat, that’s definitely the boss, not Mina. You recognize you have your hand reaching for Herald’s throat, a foot stepping on his, and his arm still twisted around yours. Shit, where’d you go off to? Lost your focus, like she warned you, dumb dumb dumb. Herald is looking at you, confused, unsure, worried. Not worried you might hurt him, worried about you. Concerned for you. Clarity’s instruction would be to use that. 

You bite your lip, tilt your eyebrows up, “Sorry, um, I got a little carried away.” Apologize, profusely. It’s good that he’s worried, pull him in, but gently. Is that your thought? It feels like maybe it’s your thought, but maybe it isn’t. Shit.

Clar’s up from her seat, scowling - but not real scowling, this is… different. This is Mina scowling, not the scary kind. And she’s aiming it at your opponent, “That was sloppy. You let your guard down because she’s not Oryx or Deadeye or whoever, but anyone who steps in front of you and squares up - you need to respect them, Herald.” She uses that name like a barb, probably the hardest blow he’s taken today. “Even when training - especially when training.” 

Finally, she turns to look at you, “You, you need to focus.” You lost control, you know, you know. She always says that but, shit, it just slips sometimes, like blacking out. Should probably think about that. The boss gives you a curt nod, “Thanks for coming though, I think this’ll help both of you a lot. I’m going to talk to Herald here a bit longer.” That’s your cue, clean up, scoot out.

~ 

It’s a good fifteen minutes of waiting outside the gym before Teacher finishes up with Herald and he comes out looking a little sulky. But you’re there to greet him - he puts on a smile for you. You reflect that smile back at him, “She really let you have it, huh?”

He’s a little sheepish, scratching the back of his neck, “It’s fine, I’ve faced worse villains.” You can’t help but laugh, snort just a bit. He totally hasn’t. “What about you, you okay?” Neat how he does that when he gets uncomfortable, turns it around into concern for others.

“Oh.” Are you okay? How were you going to play this again? Apologize again. “Yeah, I mean… I hope I didn’t hurt you, I just…” His smile is soft, and getting broader. “...what?”

“It’s okay, Mina told me you were going through some stuff.” Hell. What did she say to him?  “That was a good move though, with the arm twist. Training with Sidestep pays off, right?”

She was right, he couldn’t help himself. You put on your best confusion, “Sorry, who?” 

“She didn’t tell you?” When does he ever not look bashful, “Oh, man, I thought you knew she was a hero.”

You downplay it a little, “She told me she did like… some vigilante stuff. But no, I guess I didn’t know.” Like you didn’t go on the internet and start searching every single thing you could about the boss’s old days the second you’d found out. “Listen, I usually get a smoothie at this place around the corner, you wanna… y’know?”

You hadn’t planned to do the smoothie thing til next week. Clar warned you about rushing things but your instincts tell you he’s down for smoothies. “Sure, yeah! That sounds great.” 

Nailed it. 

~

The smoothies are alright - there’s a better smoothie joint, but it’s further away from the gym, and neither of you have a car. He’s… charming. She did warn you he would be. He’s just real likable, and that’s sort of insufferable all on it’s own. 

“I guess, I just can’t really see him as some sort of monster.” His hair has flopped into his eyes, and he’s had different versions of that smile plastered to his face. People pass by you two - some take a second look, but people don’t seem to really think that would be Herald, sitting on a park bench in street clothes, you guess.

“I’m not saying he’s a monster, he’s human, but like… Remington’s first real work was him covering the US government’s war against Geronimo, his entire damn oeuvre is romanticization of westward expansion. He built the public consciousness of the - the Western frontier for decades, and his romantic imagery totally papered over atrocities. So much so that we have a hard time convincing people that there even was a genocide, to this day.” Careful, focus, you get all excited like this, ‘geeked up on injustice’ as ZaZa put it. It scares people off.

But he doesn’t look too scared, “Sure, but do you think he knew he was doing that?”

You dig around in the bottom of your cup for the last of the smoothie, “I mean, he was there!” 

“Yeah, but I mean, it’s hard for people to see themselves as part of this whole big thing, in the moment. Maybe he should have known better, but there wasn’t the right person there to make him reflect.” He’s so nice about it, it almost makes you ease off your ‘fuck Frederic Remington’ position. Almost. He slurps his smoothie - he’s empty too.

You nod a little - this is the right time to surrender, “Y’know, you’re different than I thought. I figured like, Marshal Steel was King Cop, and the rest of the Rangers would have that big cop energy. But you seem alright.” He has… nice energy, doing-his-best energy.

You can sort of see it now, what Clarity had meant - that this whole thing was about helping him out too - that he doesn’t have to be The Enemy. Seemed a little self-serving at the time, and maybe it still is - an excuse to manipulate him - but the rationalization must have helped her. It helps you too. 

“Well. Thanks.” He leans back, eyebrows up, trying to parse what to make of your compliment, “I guess.”

You hold up your fingers, pinching them together, “Little bit of cop energy though. We’ll work on that. In return, next time, I’ll try not to drop the g-word, alright? I know it’s kind of a buzzkill.”

He blinks a little, laughing, “G-word?” You can see him searching… “Oh. Genocide. No, it’s good. I don’t get to talk about this sort of stuff with… well, my colleagues. The big cops.” 

“No? Charge not a big fan of the Hudson River School?” It’s easy to tease, but more difficult to keep yourself from going harder.

His laugh is perfect somehow, full and honest, “Not exactly. I think she’s more into Hawaiian print.” He looks into your eyes, searching. Shit, why does that make you nervous? “Next time sounds good.”

“Alright. Next time then, Herald.”

“Yeah…” For the first time, he actually looks a little nervous, unsure of himself, “...It’s Daniel.”

Smoothies today had been the right call. Definitely. You don’t have to put on any fake smiles. Thinking back, you haven’t had to fake anything for awhile with him. That’s nice. Should probably reflect on that. “Cool. See you next time.” You point a finger at him as you turn to head off, “Don’t go so easy on me though, alright?”

He’s back at ease, effortlessly sweet, “Same.” It takes a moment for you to figure - he’s taller because he’s floating, and he’s floating, because he’s… leaving - there he goes.

You watch him ascend and dart off, beyond your vision, and almost missing him already. 

Shit. That was a good mission. ZaZa’s going to be jealous as fuck.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 1

So this can be seen as either a companion piece to I Found (my first and still on going Tyler Rake/OC fan fic) or a sequel. It works either way lol.   I decided to work outside of the box and do more fluffy/soft/cute Tyler mixed in with his edge ;)    So this will be multi chapter and include everything from fluff, angst, drama, love, suspense, you name it. 

If you’d like to be tagged, please just let me know. I love comments, messages, you name it!

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y  @alievans007  @hemmyworthy  @valkyrie-of-the-light

FIVE YEARS LATER

 He listens to the sound of life...his life...drifting up from the floor below. Hands behind  his head, eyes closed, the cotton sheets cool against his skin. Trying to squeeze in that extra bit of sleep despite the noise:  incessant high pitched giggling, some squabbling and name calling, the occasional ear piercing shriek. Outside the dog is whining to be let back in the house; not wanting to miss out on the action and the endless attention and treats the kids toss its way. A two year old German Shepherd that one of his son's had...much to the chagrin of everyone else in the house...named Macaroni. Mac for short. Further back on the property, in a safely fenced off area, chickens cluck and squawk within their pen as two goats tend to making sure their area is free of weeds and any left over food.

 It's a simple existence. A four bedroom farm house in Telluride, Colorado that had taken three years to fully renovate. A mixture of white wood siding and red brick; old fashioned touches like claw foot tables and a storm cellar, along with the newer and more modern amenities: a home gym and fully finished basement with its own entrance, kitchen, living space, bedroom and bathroom. Pushed four hundred meters from the road, there's enough land for a decent sized hobby farm; the chickens and goats, three separate vegetable gardens, an above ground pool and tons of free space for the kids to play. There's a creek at the very back; running horizontally at the edge of their property line, a common meeting ground for deer, fox, and other wildlife. And the one thing that had truly sold them on the place -when it had been nothing more than a rotted old place that looked as if it should be bulldozed to the ground- a view of the snow capped mountains.  A far cry from the sand and surf of Australia, but a paradise in its own right.

 “Okay...boys...boys...you need to take it down a notch...”  his wife's voice, a hint of exasperation in her tone. “..why are you like this? Please just go and sit down and do something quiet for five minutes so I can get breakfast started. Why do you have to act like wild banshees the moment your eyes open?”

 “Maybe daddy's up,” one of the twins-Tyler Junior's voice. Or TJ as he's affectionately known to everyone in his life. He's the taller of the two: sharing his father's height and naturally broad shoulders, along with the same texture and colour of hair and brilliant blue eyes. He's the wilder of the two. Loud and boisterous. Fearless. To a fault.

 “Can we go check?” Tanner now. Smaller and slighter than his older (by a mere six minutes) brother. With slightly darker hair than his siblings, and his mother's build and smile and the freckles splashed across the bridge of his noise. He's the quiet, introspective one. An old soul trapped in such a young body.

 “You two get down from there,” Esme hisses from the bottom of the stairs. “No going up there. Daddy is asleep. He's tired. Do you want me to throw you out there with the chickens and the goats? Because I will. I swear to God I will.”

 He smirks at that.

 “Maybe he's awake,” Millie pipes up. Even more hopeful than her younger brother. She's a daddy's girl. Through and through. Has been since the moment she made her entrance into the world and had been placed in his arms, her entire fist closing around one of his fingers.

 “I said no. Now all three of you get down here right now. Daddy didn't get in until late last night. He's had a very busy two weeks and he needs to sleep. Are any of you even listening to me right now? Are you feral?”

 Tyler actually laughs out loud at that.

 The kids have extremely keen ears, and their mother's patience is already running low, and now he can hear the pounding of little feet against the wooden stairs as they seize the opportunity and make their move. And he's just manage to slip into a pair of sweats and climb back into bed when the door is being thrown open. The twins collide with either side of the door frame; causing the human equivalent of a three car pile up.  And they decide to just throw down right there and then; head locks and elbows to the face as they fight over who actually gets to enter the room first.

 Millie takes charge, and with a roll of the eyes, simply shoves them both out of the way. She's tall and slender for only five. With unruly light brown hair and blue eyes that are always filled with both mischief and curiosity. A healthy mix of tomboy and girly girl: a room filled with both dolls and action figures. She enjoyed both tea parties and dress up but could turn around and climb trees and roll around in the dirt in the blink of an eye.

 All three jump onto the bed to greet him and he finds himself tackled by the lot of them. Letting them push him down onto his back; a tickle fight immediately ensuing, followed by a wrestling match. They all love to rough house. Even Tanner, who is smart and compassionate like his mother but could lay an ass kicking on his bigger twin. They're tough kids. Both physically and mentally.

 “I gotta pee!” Tanner announces, as he slides across the bed on his butt, jumps off and scurries from the room.

 His brother takes it as a chance to catch him unaware, and in less than a minute they're in the middle of the hallway, rolling around on the ground fighting. It will end the way it always does. Tears. Maybe a black eye or a split lip. If left to their own defences, they'd spend a half an hour beating the hell out of each other followed by a quarter of the day declaring they hate one other. Then they'd forget about why they were even mad and once again join forces to wreak havoc.

 ****

Millie crawls across the bed and plops down onto her side, snuggling into him. Nestling her head underneath his chin, one of her hands on his shoulder. And he drops a kiss on her hair and wrapping an arm around her, pulls her close. Once again closing his eyes, enjoying a few extra moments of relaxation. Until she's moving against him and her tiny fingers are attempting to pry his eyes open.

 “Wake up daddy,” her hand moves to his beard, giggling as she rubs her palm against it.  “It's time to get up.”

 “What if I don't want to?”

 “It's breakfast,” she announces, and she's at his eyes again, growing frustrated as he screws them shut even tighter. “Daddy...” she grumbles. “...don't be such a boy.”

 “I am a boy,” he reminds her.

 “It doesn't mean you have to give me a hard time like the rest of them.”

 Tyler grins. “You sounded so much like your mother just now.”

 “Smart like mommy, cute like daddy,” she declares.

 “Atta girl. You know what's up.”  He opens his eyes: bright blue meeting bright blue.

 “Hi!” she chirps, and leans in so they can rub the tips of their noses together. It's their 'special thing'. Something he'd taught her shortly after her second birthday. And she refuses to share it with her brothers.

 “Hi.”

 “I missed you, daddy.”

 He will never grow tired of hearing that word. Or the way it makes him feel. How it fills him with a sense of accomplishment. That someone like him...with all the monsters in his closet and all the battles he's fought ...could both make and deserve something so perfect.

 “How could you miss me? You were still up when I got home. I tucked you in. Read you a story. Five of them to be exact.”

 “I missed you while I was sleeping,” she says, and fiddles with the chain around his neck.

 He'd been gone for two weeks this time; helping Nik with a handful of  simple 'in and out' extractions throughout central and south America. Returning with little more than a couple of bruised ribs, scrapped up knuckles, and a small gash above his right eye. He only takes the easy jobs now. He has way too much to lose. A wife and kids. Even his own side business: home renovations and handyman work.  A way having steady cash flow and being able to get food on the table, the bills paid, and keep a roof of over their heads.

 She is investigating the cut above his eye now. It hadn't been deep enough for stitches, but the skin around it was starting to swell and turn a vivid purple. Millie had lost it when she'd seen his injuries; crying like she'd never cried before. The only thing calming her down had been a bowl of ice cream and those five stories he'd been suckered into.  

 “You were gone a long time,” she pouts.

 “Too long,” he agrees.

 “Did you miss me?”

 “Of course I did. Didn't I call you every night when I was gone? I missed you very much. And your mommy. And your brothers.”

 “But not as much as you missed me, right? Because I'm your favourite.”

 “I love all of you the same. I don't have any favourites.”

 She pulls back, taking his face in her tiny hands. “Just tell me, daddy. I can keep a secret.”

 It feels like a lifetime ago when she was just a tiny baby that he could carry around in one hand. Now she's in kindergarten, taking gymnastics, enrolled in martial arts, and willing try any sport that tickles her fancy. Sometimes he misses the old days. Getting up in the middle of the night to tend to her, feeling that tiny body just melt into his, smelling that powdery, fresh scent that clung to her hair and clothes. She's a daddy's girl. Always has been. And there's no sign of that changing any time soon.

 He hopes it never does.

 “Daddy?”

 His eyes are closed again. Relishing the precious and all too fleeting moments with his first born. His only daughter.  “Yeah?”

 “I love you,” she announces, and it nearly brings tears to Tyler's eyes. She is so innocent and so pure, as is her blind faith and trust in him. She has no clue of what his other job entails. Just that he goes a way a lot and she hates it. And sometimes he comes back with cuts and bruises and the occasional broken bone.

 It's his number one fear: what will happen when she gets older and she learns just what he's been up to all these years. He worries it will change how she looks at him. Right now she adores and idolizes him; there's no problem that daddy can't fix, no toy he can't repair, no monster he can't chase away. Soon that will end. She'll grow out of that and their relationship will be different. And he worries that the truth and the monsters and demons of his past will drive her away.

 He tightens his hold on her. Drops a kiss on the top of her head.

 “I love you too.”

 ****

 His family is gathered in the kitchen. The smell of pancakes, eggs, and sausage hanging heavily in the air as google home mini perched on a nearby counte rtop plays the current and most popular music. Tanner scurries back and forth between cupboards and table as he happily and dutifully finishes setting places for his mother. The baby in his high chair; ten months old, a lock of strawberry blond hair falling across his forehead, brilliant blue eyes focused intently on scooping  the selection of dry cheerios and slices of banana on the tray in front of him. Declan is long and lanky like Millie and TJ. Feisty and mischievous at even such a tender age.  The genes run strong in the Rake family. Never a doubt to strangers on the street that those four came from the same mom and dad. Especially the latter.  Their appearances strikingly similar; both physical and in their mannerisms and facial expressions.

 “Help your brother,” Tyler instructs his daughter, placing her on the ground. “And no fighting over who gets what colour cup or what spoon.” 

They were only eleven months apart and while incredibly close and nine times out of ten the best of friends, they loved to scrap. Their little pissing matches often turning physical. But Mille is strong and clever and never backs down from a challenge.

 He joins his wife at the counter where she stands dishing food out onto plates. His hands coming to rest on her shoulders, then sliding down her arms and coming to rest on her hips. They’re wider now; she’s had four children after all. His children. Yet she is still firm and tone in some places, soft and more curvaceous in others.  Her hair is shorter; skimming the tops of her shoulders, wispy bangs over her forehead. She is beautiful even first thing in the morning; a wide headband holding her hair away from her face, clad in a pair of simple black leggings and one of his t-shirts. And he leans into her, eyes closed as he breathes in the soft scent that lingers in her hair.

 “Good morning,” his lips are against her ear, hands tightening on her hips as she pulls her back against him.

  He feels her shudder against him and he smiles as he presses a kiss to her cheek. He had heard that once children came into the picture, a lot of women lost some, if not all, desire for sex. They were tired. Physically and emotionally. But not his wife. In fact, it had seemed to heighten her need for it even more. She’s always been insatiable; right from the very beginning of their relationship. The only woman he’d ever known -including his first wife- whose sexual appetite almost matched his. Last night she’d been especially in the mood; pouncing on him the second he walked into their bedroom. And then  proceeding to wake him up twice in the middle of the night with no so gentle demands that he make love to her.

 Who was he to say no?”

 “Good morning,” she tilts her head back and smiles up at him “Did you sleep okay? I’m sorry the kids were so loud and woke you up.  They were excited you were home.”

 “They only woke me up once. You woke me up twice,” he teases, grinning when she blushes, and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. “By the way…” he places his lips against her ear once again, and presses his groin against her ass. “…you were incredible.”

 Her blush deepens, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

 “You definitely were not complaining,” he chides, and then kisses her cheek. Behind them, TJ makes a very distinct gagging noise.  “One day you’re going like kissing girls,” he informs his son, as he leans back against the counter and accepts a mug of steaming black coffee from his wife.

 “Never,” the little boy declares.  “Girls are gross.”

 “Your mommy isn’t gross,” Tyler points out. “Far from it. Daddy thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. One day you’ll find a girl that you feel the same way about.”

 “Nope,” his namesake remains steadfast. “Never. Ever. Girls that aren’t mommy are nasty. And kissing is gross. Just…ughhh…” his nose crinkles in disgusts as he shudders dramatically.  Definitely his mother’s son with that little display.

 “Kissing is where babies come from,” Mille announces, as she scrambles into her seat at the table.

 “Well there’s a little more to it than that,” he says, and Esme digs her elbow into his ribs and shakes her his. “Well there is.”

 “Like what?” Millie inquires. “Kissing and what?”

 “Kissing and things,” her mother replies. “Things you don’t need to know about until you’re older. Much older.”

 “How much older?” the five year old isn’t giving up that easily.

 “When you’re thirty and your father finally lets you go out on a date.”

 “Thirty!” Mille squeals. “That’s old as shit!”

 “”Hey!” Tyler admonishes. “None of that. Only mommy says that word. She invented bad words like that.”

 “Yeah…” Esme snorts.  “…way back when the Pony Express still delivered mail.”

 “I think you made the F word, daddy,” Tanner says, and his twin giggles beside him.

 “Someone needs to watch their language when little ears are around,” Esme scolds, and hands him a cold plate of eggs and pancake for the paper.

 “You might get your mouth washed out with soap,” TJ adds. “That’s what grandma says she used to do to Uncle Mike when he was little and swore like a drunken sailor.”

 “Thirty is really old,” Millie muses dramatically, as she tucks her hair behind her ears.  

 “Your mother was being generous,” Tyler says. “I was thinking more like forty.”

 “Daddy, that’s mean. You can’t boys away from me that long.”

 “Don’t say that him,” Esme pipes up. “He’s going to take that as a challenge.”

 “She can date, but I’m sitting on the front porch with a gun in my lap until she gets home,” he vows, and his wife rolls her eyes and begins carrying plates of food to the table, leaving an extra on the counter.

 The baby squeals happily when Tyler steps up beside the high chair and reaches up for him with dirty hands. Fists repeatedly opening and closing in a request to be picked.

��“Mate…” he sighs, as he takes in the state of his youngest. Banana smashed into oblivious, smeared into his hair.  “…why do you have to do this to me? What kind of mess did you go and make? Your son tried to shampoo his hair with his banana,” he informs his wife. “Look at him. He’s a bloody wreck.”

 “How come he’s only my son when he’s bad?” she smirks, and tosses him a package of baby wipes.

 “Because the bad genes come from you,” he states, and then uses the wipes to clean the baby’s face, hair, and hands before unbuckling him and lifting him from the seat. Little arms curling around his neck, a face nuzzling into his shoulder. “Here we go, mate, here we go,” he says, and then slides into his chair. “Time to eat. Time to get big and strong so that you can kick some ass when you get older.”

 “Really, Tyler?” Esme sighs. “Really?”

 “Daddy said ass,” TJ giggles, and soon he and his brother are dissolving into hysterics and making fart jokes. Their sister rolling her eyes and giving them hell for being so rude.

 Just another day in paradise.

 ****

  “Well…well…well…” Esme grins.  “…it lives. Long enough to emerge from it’s dungeon to eat.”

 There’s a slight blush to Ovi’s cheeks as he enters the room, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he lays a hand on her shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek. She may not be the woman that carried him for nine months and given birth to him, but she was very much his mother. Spending the last five years making sure he was well taken care of; nurtured, shown affection, encouraged to enjoy the simple things that came with a quieter existence. And he may not use the word, but he feels it in his heart. And he knows she does too.

 He’s much taller now; half an inch shy of Tyler’s six foot three frame. He’s not as muscular and powerful as the man he considers his father, but is tall and athletic; a sinewy, well toned body from all the hours he’s spent lifting weights,  helping out on their little hobby farm, and accompanying Tyler to his reno and handy man jobs. And while he lives in the apartment in the basement, he never misses a meal with the family. He craves the togetherness; the conversations and the jokes and hearing the kids giggling and playing.

 He snags the plate of food off the counter and heats it in the microwave, then slips into the chair to Tyler’s left. “What time did you get back?” he inquires, as Esme moves to fill his empty glass from a pitcher of orange juice on the table.

 “Around nine.”

 “That was a long one,” he remarks, and Esme nods in agreement.

 She has gotten used to his time away, but still doesn’t like it. It’s cold and lonely in the middle of the night and sleep rarely comes; too many worries about where he is and if he’s okay.

 “What happened here?” Ovi gestures to the area above his own eye.

 “Just a little mix up with someone that wasn’t too happy with me. Nothing serious. Where were you? The car was gone when I got home.”

 He’d been the one that had taught the kid to drive; taking him on back country roads in a beater pick up truck that they’d picked up for cheap.  Ovi’s come a long way in five years; physically and mentally. He’s no longer plagued by the vivid nightmares of what had happened in Dhaka or how’d he’d killed Gaspar to save  Tyler’s life, and essentially, his own.  He had thrived in the public school system and quickly and effortlessly made friends.  Joined the swim team. Ran track and field. Tried his hand at football. He had decided to take a year off from pursuing a higher education; electing to busy himself on the farm and learning how to use power tools, sweating under the weight of hard, manual labour.

 “Ovi had a date,” Millie sing songs. “With a girl.”

 He reaches across the table to tousle her hair, and she gives that musical little giggle.  

 “It wasn’t a date,” he says.  “I was helping her study.”

 “Yeah…” Tyler smirks as the sips his coffee. “…it was studying.”

 “Right…” Esme grins from across the table. “…studying. I was a teenager once. I know what studying is code language for. Tyler and I like to study together. He’s actually an excellent tutor.”

 “Which is why we have four kids,” he adds.

 “I am never going to study,” TJ declares, causing the adults to laugh.

 “Oh boy child…” his mother sighs. “…you are in for one heck of a rude awakening when you get older. No kissing and no studying? Come back and talk to me when you’re fourteen.”

 “You’ll like studying,” Tyler says. “Even by yourself. It’s not as fun as when you study with someone else, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”

 Ovi laughs, nearly choking on a mouthful of orange juice.

 “Excuse me,” Esme directs a kick to his shin under the table. “When was the last time you actually had to study alone?”

 “I was just gone for two weeks,” he reminds her.  “Just because you wanted to study together when I got back doesn’t mean I didn’t have to study by myself while I was away. Go that long without studying? I haven’t gone that long without studying since I was fifteen.”

 She holds a hand up to silence him. “Okay that last part is just way too much information.”

 “Sometimes you have to study alone,” he continues with a shrug. “Because your study partner is tired. Or they feel sick Or they have a headache. Study partners get headaches a lot.”

 She kicks him under the table to get his attention, then mouths: “I will kill you in your sleep.”

 He shoots her a grin and a wink, reaching out with his foot in order to run his toes over her instep, along her shin, and then around to the hell.

 At first she glares at him, glass against her lips, then gives a smirk and places her other foot in his lap. Causing him to clear his throat noisily and shift in his seat when she presses her toes into his crotch. But he doesn’t make her stop.

 “So what’s her name? Esme asks. “This study partner of yours?”

 “Chloe.”

 “Oooo that’s pretty!” Mille gushes. “That’s a princess name. Is she pretty like a princess?”

 “She is,” he confirms, but then reaches across the table to tousle her hair. “But not as pretty as you.”

 “How’d you meet her?”  Tyler asks, his hand slipping below the table to push his wife’s foot out of his crotch. The last thing he needed was to get up from the breakfast table with a raging hard on. He is almost forty one now, but she still has a way of making him feel like a horny teenager.

 Esme pouts dramatically, then goes back to her breakfast. Foot now on his thigh, his fingers massaging at the bases of her toes.

 “The internet,” Ovi sheepishly admits.

 Tyler groans. Jesus , mate. We talked about this. We’ve been talking about this for five years now. No social media. It’s too easy for people to find you on there and track you down.”

 “I’m being really careful,” he insists. “My security settings are really high. I don’t use my real name. Esme has a facebook.”

 “With only her family on it. It’s not the same thing. How’d you end up randomly meeting her online in the first place? Don’t tell me you did something creepy like sending her a message out of nowhere because you thought she looked cute.”

 “It was a group. For single people in Colorado.”

 “Oh for fuck sakes,” Tyler mutters, much to the chagrin of the kids; the twins giggling and telling he was going to get his mouth washed out with soap and Millie who immediately scrambling for the ‘swear jar’ that sits on the counter by the stove. Informing him that he knows five bucks because it was a ‘really, really, really bad word’.   “Why would you go on something like that? I get being lonely and wanting to meet girls, but for Christ sakes, mate.”

 “I wasn’t thinking, I guess. I just wanted to meet new people and talk to them. I wasn’t really planning on meeting anyone. I was just wanting  to talk.”

 He’s had a handful of girlfriends in high school. Nice, down home kind of girls that came from decent families and seemed to have no secrets in their closets. Tyler had made sure of it: giving their names and addresses to Nik so she would do a little digging. Everything had come back clean, thankfully. But it was better to be safe than sorry, especially with kids in the house.

 “How much do you even know about this girl?”

 “Enough.”

 Tyler arches both brows, waiting for a better response.

 “We’ve been talking for a little while,” he admits. “A few weeks now. She lives in Butte. So when we wanted to meet in person, we agreed to drive hallway and meet in the middle.”

 “How old is she?” Tyler presses. “What does she do for a living?”

 “Twenty three.”

 Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the way his wife’s widen at the revelation. There’s almost five full years between them and while that had never stopped them, it seemed a little wrong when it was a nineteen year old boy being pursued by an older woman.

 “She teaches in a day care,” Ovi continues. “So she’d fit in really well around here. She loves kids and you guys have a lot of them, so…”

 “I wanna met her,” Mille decides, and her brothers join in.

 “You can’t just bring strangers to the house,” Esme speaks up.  “You know that’s one of the big rules. We can’t just have anyone and everyone walking through the front door. How much do you really know about her other than her name, age, and what she does for a living? Do you know anything about her friends? Her family? Her background?”

 “I can always get Nik to run a check on her,” Tyler suggests. “I mean, if he really wants to see this girl…”

 “Still doesn’t mean I want a stranger coming to my bouse. Being around my kids.  Wasn’t that we agreed on about five years ago? When we moved here and I was having the twins? That we wouldn’t take the chance of just letting someone walk through the door? There’s always a chance, remember? That someone is looking for us. Those are your exact words.”

 “But if I get Nik to do a background check, we’ll get some answers. If nothing comes up, great. He can see the girl. If someone comes up, then he doesn’t. You wouldn’t, right?” he looks at Ovi. “See her if something came up?”

 “No! I would never do anything like that! I’d never bring someone like that around here.  I just want the chance to get to know her. That’s all. She’s really nice and really pretty and I think you guys would like her.:

 “I’m going to like her,” Millie chimes in. “I already do. If she’s good enough for my Ovi, she’s good enough for me.”

 “Pound it…” he says to her, as he holds out a fist and she enthusiastically responds. “…now blow it up.”

 They’ve always been close. Right from the moment they’d brought her as a baby to the Mahajan house five years ago. It was the first infant he’d ever had contact with and he’d been immediately smitten; mesmerized by the little sounds she made, how she would look up at him with those big blue or wrap her entire fist around one of his fingers. And when he wasn’t holding or begging to hold her, he was playing the piano for her; having her in the car seat on the floor next to him while he entertained her with his favourite songs. As she grew older, she’d always referred to him as ‘my Ovi’. Sometime she’s even called him her brother, and when people tried to point out it wasn’t physically possible that they were related in any way, she’d argue that ‘Christmas presents aren’t always in the same wrapping paper and neither are people’.

 Pretty wise for a five year old.

 “It won’t hurt to take a look at her,” Tyler attempts to reason with his wife “What’s the worst that can happen? We see something we don’t like in her background and he cuts ties with her. That’s it. No harm, no foul.”

 She’s become increasingly paranoid with each baby they’ve brought into the world. Always worried that there was someone out there just waiting to trample on the happiness that they had managed to find. And when he’d gotten back into the job without consulting her first, the worry became obsessive and all consuming.

  And there was also some lingering animosity towards him on her part; that he’d willingly go back into a profession that put a target on not only his back, but hers and the kids as well. He no longer saw it that way; he was more than capable of protecting his family and there were others -like Nik, Yaz, and the rest of the team- that would help them out no questions asked. Besides, the jobs he took were considered low on the scale of risk when it came to severe injury or death.

 “If nothing comes back and she’s totally clean, there’s no reason why she can’t come around,” he adds, and gives her foot a squeeze. “You know I’m not going to just let a stranger walk up in here. I wouldn’t take that chance. So I’ll get Nik to look her up. The kid does deserve to have a life. Isn’t that we brought him along with us in the first place?”

 Sighing heavily, she uses her fork to push the remains of her food around her plate.

 “Nothing is going to happen,” he assures her. “We do things this way, there’s no chance of something going wrong. Let’s at least give the girl a chance, yeah?”

 “As long as you promise to have Nik look into her. And as long as you…” she trains her gaze on Ovi.  “…promise me you won’t bring her here until Tyler find outs about her. I’m serious, Ovi. I can’t have some random off the street getting near my kids. I just can’t.”

 “I won’t,” he vows. “I’d never do something like that.”

 Giving a small smile, she nods and then pushes her chair away from the table and begins tidying up the dirty plates and utensils, instructing the kids to run upstairs and get cleaned up and dressed.

 “Is she okay?” Ovi asks. “She seems a little….mad.”

 “I think she’s a bit pissed at me. I was only supposed to be gone four days and it ended up turning into two weeks. It’s hard on her. Being home alone all that time with the kids. This job was supposed to be easy and it turned into a real shit show instead. Definitely not what I thought I was walking into.”

 “Well at least you’re alive, right? You’re home. At least you’re still here.”

 “That’s all that matters, mate. Dragging myself through that front door. As long as I get home to my wife and my kids, it’s a good day.”

 As long as he wasn’t being brought home in a body bag.