#Otherwise it would have completely dominated the answers with few exceptions

[nothorses]

How do you differentiate, between atheist, agnostic, and anti-thiest? I've been reading your past posts about atheism, and I found it interesting how you defined atheism as an active belief in no higher power (might be misspeaking, please correct me if I am). I would call myself an atheist, but my atheism is not an "active" one - the label I find closest to what I am would be an agnostic atheist, where I can't say if there's any higher powers or not, but I live my life as if there aren't/don't ascribe or follow any particular religious guidelines. Would you consider this different from your atheism or idea of atheism? Why do you consider atheism an active belief versus a passive one (given that we're born without any beliefs in higher powers and pick that up later as part of how we're raised or choose to believe)? Sorry this ask got so long but I am very curious about your thoughts, I haven't read or had a discussion on atheism in ages.

There are a couple of asks in this ask, I'm gonna try to get into them individually if that's cool!

1. "How do you differentiate, between atheist, agnostic, and anti-thiest?"

Short answer: I don't! (With the exception of "anti-theist", which is a much more defined ideological position, i.e., being actively opposed to theism.)

Long answer: I think there is a difference between commonly-understood definitions of identities and related labels, and personal use of said labels. "Queer" is a great example: it's a super useful catch-all in academic and broad-discussion contexts, but it has a lot of (often conflicting) definitions. Lots of the people you're referring to in those contexts don't identify with that word at all, even if they fit the definition you have in mind to a T. Sometimes, you'll also be using the word to describe some, but not all of the people who could be described by it- and sometimes, people you wouldn't typically include in the word are included in it anyway just based on the way you're using it.

I think "atheism" works a similar way. There are a few commonly-understood definitions, but even those are very context-dependent; what I mean when I say "atheist" in a conversation about my specific experiences with atheism and how it has shaped my life/values is very different from what an evangelical Christian means when they say "atheist". And both of those are very different from what someone in a completely different, non-Christian-dominant country means when they say "atheist".

Lots of people interpret or use the word differently, and that's fine! Lots of people do or don't identify in ways that contradict use of the word in academic or broader discussions, and that's also fine! It's okay if terms are flexible and vague; like "queer", that can actually make them much more useful than they'd be otherwise.

Which brings us to:

2. Why do you consider atheism an active belief versus a passive one?

I think the "active" vs. "passive" differentiation is actually kind of counter to what I'm getting at when I talk about this.

I think people tend to conceptualize atheism as a "lack of belief" because "atheism" is usually understood to mean "lack of belief in a higher power"; which is (broadly, not always) true. But the conclusion they reach from this point is "so atheism does not, and cannot produce any unique or original ideas".

That is what I'm arguing against.

The piece I see missing from "cultural Christianity" discourse is, imo, that people see atheism as a kind of "blank slate" state. The idea is that atheism is a Lack of something; it's a Void. It's Nothing. Therefore, other things (Christianity) will naturally fill that void. Unless you actively fill it with a different (religion-originated) belief system, you will just naturally "default" to whatever is most dominant in your surrounding culture (Christianity).

But that's not really true! Everything you believe or don't believe about the world influences the way you think about it, how you form your values, the rest of your beliefs... etc. Religions often have a set of values and an internal logic because when you believe one thing, there are lots of other things that necessarily follow from, and support, that one belief. It's just not that simple!

I talk about it more here, but atheism has influenced my own beliefs and values a lot.

I grew up atheist, raised by atheists, who were also raised by atheists. I grew up in a culture where a lot of things were taken for granted that I did not have any reason to believe, and because I had no reason to believe them, I questioned them. I interrogated my own ideas about the world constantly, from a very young age. And from that, I developed an internal set of beliefs and an understanding of the world around me.

I came up with my own answers to questions like, "what is the meaning of life?" and, "what is our purpose?" and, "how should we treat each other?" and, "why should we treat each other that way?".

All of those answers were based in atheism, even if I wasn't really thinking of it that way at the time. All of those answers stemmed from the core understanding that there was nothing, and nobody, to give life meaning, purpose, or rules for me.

It might be technically a "lack of belief" (in a higher power) (depending on context and who you ask), but like... it's not a void. It's not nothingness, it's not emptiness, it's not a lack of purpose, value, morality, ethics, kindness, and unique, original thoughts about the world.

This one idea creates other ideas, because that's how these things work. It's unavoidable. The idea that all of these things must come from religion- and simply do not exist without it- is frankly dehumanizing. Not to mention very culturally Christian, ironically.

[abhishekavps96-blog]

Everyone throws around the word ‘passion’ without understanding its true meaning. We’ve been given a unique way to focus on a task, with complete dedication—locked in like a missile. That predator way of thinking is sports. In this world, you must either be a predator or risk becoming prey, so everyone develops a unique set of survival skills. Some are naturally gifted, while others adapt out of necessity. This evolution stems from need, not passion. Passion means honing a unique skill set until it consumes your entire focus. They are called apex predators. Just like Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen—two very different driving styles, but they are the only ones who could break simulations and outperform the car. There are very few who could do this.

From the legendary 2021 season to the great qualifying battles of 2022, Max has excelled in F1 in 2023, with 2024 bringing real heat to the competition. In 2026, Max and Kimi Antonelli should join Mercedes. Kimi is Mercedes’ answer to Oscar. Now, new talents are emerging ,  the Simulation generation. Some could argue otherwise, but it’s  a really talented pool of drivers. Oscar’s performance accelerated Kimi’s entry, but Kimi’s speed ensures that if the setup suits him, he can outperform anyone, leading the team to build the car around him. But if Max decides to join Mercedes in 2026, there would be chaos . The number of meetings, , lawyers,  corporations and contracts agreements involved  would be massive. Kimi is skilled, but with Max, they get a 3-time World Champion, as it stands , the Championship of 2024 is also led by Max. Let’s wait until the end. They get to experience a generational talent, a proven driver who always finds car’s limits and then some. Max is the man, and he is also not old—very young, with a lot of career ahead. Then Kimi might get a firsthand learnings from a World Champion, however you may want to take it. It’s all for Max’s to lose, like Hamilton in 2022 with George Russel. But 2026 should be Max and Kimi, Lewis and Charles, another solid pairing. Arguably the quickest driver on his day in qualifying, able to maintain blistering pace when setup and strategy work—and sometimes manages to work it out even without them. And then you have a 7-time champion of the world. One of the greatest ever to do it and shows no sign of slowing down. Still the driver to beat on his day, no contest.

Lewis dominated, I would say, even in McLaren. Lewis was lethal. You see him in your mirrors, and you approach him differently. Aggressive. He has learned to control his aggression, and now it is coming back. And with the 2026 rule change, Lewis is one of the few masters remaining of old-school cars, without DRS. Very intelligent. So is Max. Very sharp, very dependable driver. He doesn’t make mistakes too often now, and even if he does go over the limit, he most often comes back better in the next race. Max is aggressive. He is toning it down and focusing on the craft. His craft is beyond exceptional. Rain master, very adaptable, he could get as close to the indicated lap time consistently, and sometimes even surpass that.

McLaren will have Piastri go to Red Bull; McLaren doesn’t suit him. He is the best driver on the grid right now, but he needs to manage his tire wear, which he is able to match with Lando, which is impressive. Oscar is the Kimi Räikkönen of our generation, in terms of racecraft. All or nothing. Very aggressive, very calm, keeps everything under control, even when the car tries to slip away from him once in a while. Red Bull needs Oscar. McLaren needs someone to play second fiddle to Lando Norris. He is where the money is at. Mark Webber’s plan is to make Oscar ,the Australian World Champion, and he needs a team like Red Bull to develop the car around him. To get a 2nd Red Bull driver to match and get the championship points. Red Bull doesn’t budge if the championship is not at stake, like 2023, where Max alone racked up both of them with Checo in 2nd. It was just a flex. With Checo likely retiring in 2025, Max could move to Mercedes, Oscar to Red Bull, and McLaren would then seek a second driver. Lewis vs. Charles vs. Max vs. Kimi vs. Oscar vs. Lando, and our headmaster of F1—Fernando Alonso. But you still cannot beat him without breaking a sweat. He’s arguably the greatest driver, despite his history of joining the wrong teams, he rarely makes a mistake on track. The most gifted driver, with the likes of Jim Clark, Ayrton Senna, and the greatest of the greats. Still young, still hungry for that one drive that F1 owes him at this point. He should do something as quick as he drives (I mean really fast) to get something done at AM.

Ferrari is cooking, Mercedes is cooking, McLaren has already cooked, Red Bull is cooking for a feast because when Red Bull dominates, they come purely to rewrite history books and add some extra pages to it. Williams is cooking. Alex Albon is a very quick, very aggressive driver. His Williams stint is legendary. Then Carlos Sainz, he has always improved wherever he went. He is the guy with the most experience in adapting to different styles and design philosophies of the car than anyone on the grid. Still very young, very quick, very adaptable, reliable driver. Audi is cooking. No one knows for sure what Audi might bring to the table. If they could bring Sebastian Vettel to drive for them, that would be legendary. But it would take a lot to convince a 4-time World Champion, who, as I could see, is itching to race because the racing is so good. No true racer can miss that, even if it is for a new team. Sebastian, when his car is under him, no one could beat him. His Red Bull stint is legendary, but so does his Ferrari stint till 2017. 2018 and 2019 were tough, but he had his memorable moments and few wins and podiums. Sebastian’s talent truly visible again in 2022, COTA USA GP, where Vettel overtakes K-Mag, of all people, round the outside, on the last lap of the GP, and with such aggression. No wonder he wants to come back. The Aston Martin stint was too much effort with too little points. He needed to cool down, chill out, then come back and show why Vettel is ranked among the greats. People with no knowledge of F1 quote that one clip from Alonso about him. Vettel has the greatest career of them all after Michael Schumacher; no one has seen such domination. From 2004 to 2007, there were 3 different champions in the span of 4 years, but when Red Bull, Adrian Newey, Horner, and Vettel cooked, there was 1 champion for 4 years. Great driver, great for PR, very good business-wise, very skilled, knowledgeable, kind, and humorous German boy, who wins like a well-oiled machine, like a swiss watch, very precise, but he has broken simulations and exceeded the car’s performance in more races than I could remember. Sometimes, it was just Vettel in the Red Bull , doing the impossible if he gets the right environment . Audi would do anything to provide that. With him and Binotto, it’s tough, but it might just work out. Alpine is cooked, it’s done, it is toasted. Haas was onto nothing up until 2022, but Komatsu-san is making a very delicate meal, and we see Haas pop up in top 10 in qualifying. With the rule changes, Haas could fight because their team principal is one of the most experienced engineers on the grid. Been here since 2003. That era is coming back. Ocon’s experience and Bearman, who is also a very talented, proven driver, would make a cool pairing. Ollie Bearman could feel the heat, but so could Ocon. Strong lineup.

But everything written above could completely fall apart. However, if there’s one thing that remains constant, it’s that everyone involved in Formula 1 is deeply passionate about the sport—otherwise, they leave or get replaced. Passion is the unwavering belief that you still have a chance, and the determination that won’t let you give up. 

[blossomingbellflower]

Now to get Kikyo personally mad at me (as is my job in life), has she ever had any sexual fantasies about Sesshomaru? If so-- what are they? Asking for me. I'm curious.

SEND ❓+ A QUESTION AND MY MUSE HAS NO CHOICE BUT TO ANSWER TRUTHFULLY || @fightingthetides

"......"

Were her porcelain cheeks quite reddened ? Yes. The audacity of such a question would make anyone blush, more so one who leaned towards the conservative and somewhat prudish spectrum. Not that there was anything wrong in having sexual appetites. It was completely healthy and normal. And yet, it was one thing to discuss in a professional role and another, to pry into her personal preferences. The former she can do without so much as a stutter, but the latter..that was very much different. Particularly as it was coming from someone that was not Sesshomaru.

Such a topic was only appropriate to discuss with the daiyokai..should it ever arise--when it arise. Hmph.

"Unless your name is Sesshomaru, I do not believe this topic is appropriate for your ears.", she finally replied, her irritation lightly infused into her tone.

"But very well..the answer is yes..to a certain degree. I am not that familiar, knowledgeable or experienced in this department. I never really looked into it except for the occasional curiosity due to what colleagues may have mentioned..", she admitted, brushing a few strands of hair off her neck.

"Be that as it may.." Kikyou exhaled slowly, in an attempt to subdue her rapid heartbeat and flushed cheeks. "Being dominated beneath the moonlight with his mokomoko wrapped around me is one..His familiar features plain to see..from the markings on his cheeks to the crescent moon on his forehead." It was fitting seeing as both found a sense of comfort from the moon, among other things. "Feeling his fangs on my skin, the wind in our hair..the sweet smell of the grass in the air." Naturally it would be a very private and intimate location, free from prying eyes. Being marked by him under the tree he took her to..sparked this particular fantasy.

"Use of ribbons..or silk as restraints..in our intimate sessions.." Television as vulgar as it could be..at least introduced a few things she otherwise may have gone without hearing about--such as mild bondage. "It goes without saying that..riling up my beloved and taking charge for as long as possible is something that I also entertain. It may not last long but..a woman can try, can she not~?" Tease him enough until even his admirable restraint and discipline is put to the test--or better yet, snap.

"Spontaneity--taken..roughly against the wall with one of his famous, rare smirks..I believe that is more than enough to quell your curiosity." Kikyou was admittedly quite warm--and needed to go cool herself off now.

[valiantarcher]

Fortnight of Books: 2020

Day 1:

Overall - best books read in 2020? Dombey and Son by Charles Dickens. The Great Divorce by C. S. Lewis. Multiple entries in the Covered Wagon Women series, edited by Kenneth L. Holmes. Death by Living by N.D. Wilson. Things We Couldn’t Say by Diet Eman and James Schaap. Please Stop Helping Us by Jason L. Riley. Priceless by Robert K. Wittman and John Shiffman. A Man for All Seasons by Robert Bolt. Piranesi by Susanna Clarke. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. The Invisible Boy by Alyssa Hollingsworth. War Letters, edited by Andrew Carroll.

Best series you discovered in 2020? I read a few of the Grandma’s Attic series by Arleta Richardson and those were pretty light and fun. Otherwise, @lover-of-the-starkindler got me to read Meadowsweet by C.J. Milbrandt and it was tooth-rotting but I fully intend to read the rest of the series when I have time. Mighty Jack by Ben Hatke deserves a mention too.

[absolutebl]

First, I love all your reviews and recommendations but now my list of watched shows is getting too long and I need to organise them. Can you please give me more information on how you set up your spreadsheet. I have name, country, year, number of episodes, run time, my rating, what else should I include? Please help me organise this BL list nightmare.

BL Tracking! 

OMG you're so cute. And I am SO SORRY. 

The spreadsheet of doom has columns for the following:

code - that’s a short search code for me personally so I can find screen caps stored on my hd, but also the one you see @heretherebedork and I (in particular) using as shorthand when we chat, e.g. UWMA & FUTS.

MDL - whether the show is on My Drama List or not (Y, N, na, and R) na = Vietnam & Cambodia, R = I reviewed it. (I also use MDL as a kind of back up and because I track all the other Asian dramas I watch there, although I don’t rate the het stuff) - you probubly don’t need this one if you don’t watch VBL or use MDL. I’m considering deleting this column since it’s redundant. 

year - generally the year the show is given on MDL (release year, rather than completed year), which conflicts with when I post and talk about shows - i.e. Bad Buddy I consider a 2022 show (when it ended), MDL lists it as 2021 (when it started) 

title - generally the one we talk about it here (as opposed to whatever MDL or Viki decides on)

subtitle (or alternate title) - the other one 

origin - who produced it, I pick the dominant language for those co-produced, so Korea got Peach of Time, Taiwan got Because of You, Thailand got Present Perfect (there are so few of these I keep track of them in a post rather then on the spreadsheet) 

rating - in my case, out of 10, i dislike an out of 5 rating system

apx hrs - so this is my best guess at the finished hour total FRESH content for each series, since (for me) length of treatment is important to track when answering wave data and exponential growth questions 

length - this is the column needed to calculate the previous one, so it’s: number of episodes X length of episode - average % of credits/recaps/stingers sponsors (usually around 22%)  

main trope - so like the major romance trope foundation of the story, enemies to lovers etc... 

sub trope - cohabitation, paranormal, etc... 

setting - home, office, r&b (restaurant & beverage), university, high school, historical 

pair tone - pining, crush, soft, hard, etc... 

main pair - grumpy/sunshine, sunshine/tsundere etc... AKA archetypes in play 

couple - the names of the two lead characters 

heat - rated from 0-3

kiss - graded from 1-10 

sub paring - side dishes 

sub pairing couple - names of the side dishes 

kiss - the side couple’s rating 

source - which platform is hosting the show

link - to that show at it’s current source (that I know of) 

MDL - a link to the show on My Drama List 

R - whether I personally have digital hard copy or not, and whether I want to 

trigger - any notes I have about traumatic elements 

pitch - my short paragraph summation, if I wrote one 

review link - a link to my review on tumblr 

more - anything I don’t have a column for 

Things I wish I included from the start!

DATE I FINISHED WATCHING IT - because I didn't track this I failed to track my own taste and journey through the genre (MDL tracks this for me, now, but I didn’t have an MDL account at the start) 

actor couple/ship name - like OffGun etc... only recently has become necessary since prior to this they had maxed out at 3 

language or caption/translation notes/links etc... - this would mostly be for the Thai stuff for me, but like there’s a great convo about the language used in DNA on one of my blog posts right now and I wish I had a place to store that info 

directors - specifically because of Vietnamese BL, otherwise MDL mostly tracks this so not necessarily except for sorting reasons 

native language title - as in, in the script of the country of origin, or in the case of Japan YET ANOTHER title (I could also use this column to track things like MAMEverse, or Japan’s linked movies) - again MDL has this info 

adaptation - if it was from a manga, manwha, or y-novel and who wrote it - MDL has this info tho 

OTS - not me, but you might want to consider this since it’s a popular topic, if you happen to be into the audio side of BL tracking the MV of the theme songs might be useful  

Production house/studio - used to be there were so few it didn’t matter what their records was, now it does 

My memory is SO SO bad ya’ll. Now the spreadsheet acts as a brain back up devise too. 

I also color code:

blue for ones I am going to try to get hold of hc,

red for ones in progress (currently airing),

grey for short works (anything that’s fh total is under 45min).

pink for ones I just can not find

So my spreadsheet was designed originally for tracking wave data, hence my prioritized intersted in calculating length and run times of fresh content, then I evolved it to be a review tracking system. But that wasn’t how it started. So it’s messier and less comprehensive than I’d like for its current use. (But honestly, that’s the nature of ALL long running data sets.) 

But at 400+ is now too large for me to modify from memory, and 80% of BL I never want to watch again, so it takes a lot to add a new column now. 

Tabs 

I also have a tab where I track my rating system. 

And a tab where I track my tumblr posts and reviews and such. I started doing that because I am terrible at tagging (and tumblr keeps shadow banning tags and I can never remember which ones are “safe”) so I just could never find anything in my own blog. I needed to do this because people would ask the same question here. 

Speaking of which, I’ve actually answered this question before. But I didn’t track it, to my shame. 

When I do this:

(source)

at the bottom of a post it means I am tracking that post for reuse/update. 

Other tabs that might have been useful

A tracking tab for announced/never made BLs with notes and sources of information. Or for the “coming next year” BLs. 

Currently I keep this info as part of my big end of year summation post as a draft here on this platform, but I’m petrified Tumblr will delete that or otherwise crash. It’s a MONSTER post while it’s in progress. 

[maxwell-grant]

What are your thoughts on Jekyll/Hyde and his archetype of the human periodically changing into a monster ?

Jekyll & Hyde was the 2nd horror story I read following Frankenstein, I got it off the same library and it always stuck very strongly with me even before I got into horror in general. I even dressed up as Jekyll/Hyde as a kid for a school fair by shredding a lab coat on one side and asking my sister to make-up claw gashes on my exposed arm and paint half of my face, although in hindsight I think I ended up looking more like Doctor Two-Face than Jekyll/Hyde, but I was 12 and didn't have any Victorian clothing to use so I had to make do. The first film project I tried doing at film school was intended to be a modern take on Jekyll & Hyde, and I didn't get much farther than a couple of discarded scripts

Much like Frankenstein, Mr Hyde as a character and a story is something that's kind of baked into everything I do artistically. And it's not just me, as even in pop culture itself, none of us can escape Mr Hyde. I would go so far as to argue Mr Hyde may be the single most significant character created by victorian fiction, if only by the sheer impact and legacy the character's had.

(Fan-art by guilhermefranco)

Part of what makes Mr Hyde such a powerful and lasting icon of pop culture is that the very premise of the book invites a personal reading that's gonna vary from person to person. Because everyone's familiar with the basic twist of the story, that it's a conflict of duality, of the good and evil sides, but everyone has a more personal idea of what those entail. Some people make the story more about class. A lot of readings laser-focus on sex and lust as the driving force, and there's also a lot of readings of Mr Hyde that tackle it to explore a more gendered perspective, and so forth.

I don't particularly take much notice of the Jekyll & Hyde adaptations partially because the novel's premise and themes have become baked so throughly into pop culture and explored in so many different and interesting ways, that I'm not particularly starving for good Jekyll & Hyde adaptations the way I am for Dracula and Frankenstein. The Fredric March film in particular is one that orbits my head less because of the film itself (although I do recommend it), but because of one specific scene, and that's when Jekyll first transforms into Hyde on screen.

Out of all the things they could have shown him doing right that second, they instead took the time to show him enjoying the rain.

Just Hyde taking off his hat and letting it all cascade on his face with this sheer enthusiasm like he's never been to the rain before, never enjoyed it before, and now that he's free from being Jekyll, he gets to enjoy life like he never has before. It's such an oddly humanizing moment to put amidst a horror movie, in the scene where you're ostensibly introducing the monster to the audience, and it makes such a stark contrast to the rest of the film where Hyde is completely irredeemable, but I think it's that contrast that makes the film's take on Hyde work so well even with it's diverging from the source material, even if I don't particularly like in general interpretations of Hyde that are focused on a sexual aspect.

Because one, it understands that Jekyll was fundamentally a self-serving coward and not a paragon of goodness, and two, it also understands one of the things that makes Hyde scary: He wants what all of us want, to live and be happy. He's happy when he leaves the lab and dances around in the rain like a giddy child, he's happy when he goes to places Jekyll couldn't dream of showing up, he's happy as a showgirl-abusing sexual predator. Hyde is all wants, all the time, and there's not that much difference between his wants, his domineering possessiveness, and the likes exhibited by Muriel's father and Jekyll's own within the very same film, which also works to emphasize one of the other ideas of the original story, that Edward Hyde doesn't come from nowhere. That no monster is closer to humanity than Mr Hyde, because he is us. He is the thing that Jekyll refused to take responsability for until it was too late.

(Art by LorenzoMastroianni)

While many of the ideas that defined Mr Hyde had already been explored in pop culture beforehand, Hyde popularized and redefined many of them in particular by modernizing the idea. He was the werewolf, the doppelganger, The Player On The Other Side, except he came from within. He was not transformed by circumstance, he made himself that way, and the elixir merely brought out something already inside his soul. To acknowledge that he's there is to acknowledge that he is you, and to not do that is to either lose to him, or perish. Hyde was there to address both the rot settling in Victorian society as well as grappling concerns over Darwinian heritage, of the realization that man has always had the beast inside of him (it's no accident that Hyde's main method of murder is by clubbing people to death with his cane like a caveman).

I've already argued on my post about Tarzan that the Wild Man archetype, beginning with Enkidu of The Epic of Gilgamesh, is the in-between man and beast, between superhero and monster, and that Mr Hyde is an essential component of the superhero's trajectory, as the creature split in between. That stories about dual personalities, doppelgangers, the duality of the soul, the hero with a day job and an after dark career, you can pinpoint Hyde as a turning point in how all of these solidified gradually in pop culture. And I've argued otherwise that The Punisher, for all that his image and narrative points otherwise, is ultimately just as much of a superhero as the rest of them, even if no one wants to admit it, drawing a parallel between The Punisher and Mr Hyde. And he's far from the only modern character that can invite this kind of parallel.

The idea of a regular person periodically or permanently transforming into, or revealing itself to be, something extraordinary and fantastic and scary, grappling with the divide it causes in their soul, and questions whether it's a new development or merely the truest parts of themselves coming to light at last, and the effects this transformation has for good and bad alike. The idea of a potent, dangerous, unpredictable enemy who ultimately is you, or at least a facet of you and what you can do. That these are bound to destroy each other if not reconciled with or overcome.

You know what are my thoughts on the archetype of "human periodically changing into a monster" are? Look around you and you're gonna see the myriad ways The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde's themes have manifested in the century and a half since the story's release. Why it shouldn't be any surprise whatsoever that Mr Hyde has become such an integral part of pop culture, in it's heroes and monsters alike. Why we can never escape Mr Hyde, just as Jekyll never could.

It is Nixon himself who represents that dark, venal and incurably violent side of the American character that almost every country in the world has learned to fear and despise. Our Barbie-doll president, with his Barbie-doll wife and his boxful of Barbie-doll children is also America's answer to the monstrous Mr. Hyde.

He speaks for the Werewolf in us; the bully, the predatory shyster who turns into something unspeakable, full of claws and bleeding string-warts on nights when the moon comes too close… - Hunter S. Thompson

There is a scene in the movie Pulp Fiction that explains almost every terrible thing happening in the news today. And it's not the scene where Ving Rhames shoots that guy's dick off. It's the part where the hit man played by John Travolta is talking about how somebody vandalized his car, and says this:

"Boy, I wish I could've caught him doing it. I'd have given anything to catch that asshole doing it. It'd been worth him doing it, just so I could've caught him doing it."

That last sentence is something everyone should understand about mankind. After all, the statement is completely illogical -- revenge is supposed to be about righting a wrong. But he wants to be wronged, specifically so he'll have an excuse to get revenge. We all do.

Why else would we love a good revenge movie? We sit in a theater and watch Liam Neeson's daughter get kidnapped. We're not sad about it, because we know he's a badass and he finally has permission to be awesome. Not a single person in that theater was rooting for it to all be an innocent misunderstanding. We wanted Liam to be wronged, because we wanted to see him kick ass. It's why so many people walk around with vigilante fantasies in their heads.

Long, long ago, the people in charge figured out that the easiest and most reliable way to bind a society together was by controlling and channeling our hate addiction. That's the reason why seeing hurricane wreckage on the news makes us mumble "That's sad" and maybe donate a few bucks to the Red Cross hurricane fund, while 9/11 sends us into a decade-long trillion-dollar rage that leaves the Middle East in flames.

The former was caused by wind; the latter was caused by monsters. The former makes us kind of bummed out; the latter gets us high.

It's easy to blame the news media for pumping us full of stories of mass shootings and kidnapped children, but that's stopping one step short of the answer: The media just gives us what we want. And what we want is to think we're beset on all sides by monsters.

The really popular stories will always feature monsters that are as different from us as possible. Think about Star Wars -- what real shithead has ever referred to himself as being on "the dark side"? In Harry Potter and countless fantasy universes, you have wizards working in "black magic" and the "dark arts." Can you imagine a scientist developing some technology for chemical weapons or invasive advertising openly thinking of what he does as "dark science"? Can you imagine a real world leader naming his headquarters "The Death Star" or "Mount Doom"?

Of course not. But we need to believe that evil people know they're evil, or else that would open the door to the fact that we might be evil without knowing it. I mean, sure, maybe we've bought chocolate that was made using child slaves or driven cars that poisoned the air, but we didn't do it to be evil -- we were simply doing whatever we felt like and ignoring the consequences. Not like Hitler and the bankers who ruined the economy and those people who burned the kittens -- they wake up every day intentionally dreaming up new evils to create. It's not like Hitler actually thought he was saving the world.

So no matter how many times you vote to cut food stamps and then use the money to buy a boat, you could still be way worse. You could, after all, be one of those murdering / lazy / ignorant / greedy / oppressive monsters that you know the world is full of, and that only your awesome moral code prevents you from turning into at any moment. And those monsters are out there.

They have to be. Because otherwise, we're the monsters - 5 Reasons Humanity Desperately Wants Monsters To Be Real, by Jason Pargin

(Two-Face sequence comes from the end of Batman Annual #14: Eye of the Beholder)

For good or bad, Hyde has become omnipresent. He's a part of our superheroes, he's a part of our supervillains, he's in our monsters. He lives and prattles in our ears, sometimes we need him to survive, and sometimes we become Hyde even when we don't need to, because our survival instincts or base cruelties or desperation brings out the worst in us. Sometimes we can beat him, and sometimes he's not that bad. Sometimes we do need to appease him and listen to what he says, about us and the world around us. And sometimes we need to do so specifically to prove him wrong and beat him again.

But he never, ever goes away, as he so accurately declares in the musical

Do you really think That I would ever let you go...

Do you think I'd ever set you free?

If you do, I'm sad to say It simply isn't so

You will never get away FROM MEEEEEE

(Art by Akreon on Artstation)

[emkay512]

Once Upon A Time

Chapter 1

Summary: This starts at the beginning of TRR book 2 with the Fydelia ball but with a different series of events. This AU is based off the show Once Upon a Time with Riley and Liam mirroring Snow and Charming. Characters belong to Pixelberry.

A/N: This is my FIRST EVER post and it’s literal trash 😅 I’ve never written before I found you all, and I’ve never had so much fun reading all the stories I found. If you read this please know I’m a complete rookie and I have no idea what I’m doing haha. I welcome and encourage any thoughts and feedback!

A/N 2: my biggest thank you’s to @queenrileyrose and @bbrandy2002 for pre-reading and giving me endless boosts of confidence!!! This first ever, cherry popping post, is in honor of you ❤️

Warnings: This will contain NSFW adult language and content. By reading, you acknowledge you are 18 and over.

I’m tagging those I’ve connected with and thought would be interested. Please let me know if you do or don’t want to be tagged!

@burnsoslow @ao719 @kat-tia801 @callmeellabella @charlotteg234 @neotericthemis

The welcome ball had been exhausting. Riley finally saw them, all of them, the good and the bad. Mostly bad with Liam being the exception.. except the fact that with him came his stupid fiancée. She was forced to deal with the Penelope’s and Kiara’s of the court, and got none of the Olivia’s and Drake’s of the world, with Olivia blackmailed and Drake most likely avoiding the court. Majority of the conversations she had to deal with throughout the night consisted of her rebutting all the allegations against her, most people believing that she had jilted their king. At least she had Maxwell and Bertrand, her home away from home. With the maybe two seconds she had Liam to herself and the amount of work and effort she had to put into her first public appearance, she was completely drained and changed from a gown and into more comfortable leggings and tank after she got back to her room of the Fydelia estate. Just as she was decompressing from the stress of her night, there was a knock on the door. She opened the door to see a particular grin on the face of one Maxwell Beaumont carrying a vase of two dozen roses.

“Greetings, little blossom! One of the staff members stopped me on the way of delivering these, asking what room you were in and I insisted on catching you myself.” Maxwell invited himself into her room after handing her the arrangement. Riley pressed the roses to her nose, inhaling the beautiful scent, and she noticed a note wrapped around one of the stems. She unwrapped the note and turned to Maxwell, who had already cozied himself up on her bed, clearly excited to hear what was on the note. “I noticed the paper in the arrangement too, it’s clearly from Liam isn’t it? You did so great tonight and he had the biggest puppy dog eyes on you, I knew his Prince Charming ass would pull off something like this.. well, go on! Read it!”

Riley quickly unwrapped and read Liam’s note, she had no idea the girlish grin she had plastered on and Maxwell was beaming. He had hated these past few weeks so much, he had been watching one of his closest friends, his makeshift sister, live in desperate torment, questioning her worth after hearing nothing from those she cared most about. She put the roses down and placed the note down next to them and looked up at Maxwell, “He wants me to meet him on his balcony in 20 minutes..”

“That is charmingly romantic, but did he slip in his royal socks and tumble down Madeleine’s overly buffed stairs?? He’s clear across the estate, it’s way too dangerous for you to get out of here alone.”

Riley sighed and collapsed onto the bed with Maxwell, “I don’t know Max, his note is sweet and remorseful, but.. maybe this isn’t about getting back together.. maybe I should just focus on helping house Beaumont and getting home..”

Maxwell stretched across to Riley and smacked her across her head, “Come on, Riles! You have been unable to go a single day without asking about him.. at least twice a day! You NEED to go meet him, otherwise I think both of your little fairy tale hearts will die.”

Riley smirked and rolled her eyes, “You’re so dramatic! And please tell me what fairy tale involved a half nude photo scandal and public humiliation leading to a bullshit engagement between a king and the only ice queen that would rival both Olivia and Elsa while singing let it go? Plus, didn’t you just mention that it’d be too dangerous for me to get to him?”

“Hellooooooo?? Ok first of all, literally all fairy tales are structured that way, couple meets and falls in love, and a public enemy curses them with a dramatic, heartbreaking lie, and then they defile all enemies and live happily ever after.. you’re just living the 21st century version of that! Nudes are basically the most vanilla scandal these days anyway. And secondly, have you JUST met mr covert ops extraordinaire, Maxwell Beaumont!? I said it’d be too dangerous for you to go out alone. Let’s just simply walk out together, and if we get any questions, we can just say we’re meeting my brother for.. you know.. this and that diplomacy reason.. whatever, I’ll wing it. Plus, look at you, you’re already dressed for stealth. I just need to get you outside, and then you can scamper over to Liam’s side of the building. Whaddya say, blossom?”

Riley was exhilarated. Maxwell always knew how to say the right things. She locked eyes with him, pointed straight to his chest and said, “You son of a bitch, I’m in.” They shared a mischievous smile and giggled their way out of her room, totally giddy without even shutting the door all the way. They were completely unaware of the royal guard that had been manning her room and slipped inside.

Thanks to Maxwell, Riley had successfully snuck out of the estate and crept to below the balcony of Liam’s room. She had to think fast as to how the hell she’d get up there, and then she spotted the flower vine growing on a trellis against the building, and she let out a small victorious, “Yes!”

But as soon as she took a step in that direction, a hand grabbed her shoulder and jerked her around so she was facing one of the royal guards. “I don’t think so, lady Riley,” he put a heavy sarcastic emphasis on the term lady, as he was clearly disgusted by her newfound tarnished reputation. “You’re coming with us.”

“Us?” And then from behind her, another guard bagged her head and she felt the grip of two men on each of her arms as they forced her to their destination, practically dragging her as they went. Riley’s heart was thundering in her chest. Where were they taking her? Back to the airport? A jail cell? A dungeon? A firing squad? She wasn’t at all expecting what she got. She was sat on a decently comfortable chair. The guards removed the bag and revealed to see she was in a study. A large one. And there before her on the opposite end of a mighty desk, was the king father, Constantine.

Constantine nodded a dismal to both the guards, and they took their leave. “Well, well. If it isn’t the disgraced American.” Riley was utterly confused and could feel the former kings command in the mood of the room. He did not like her, and she could feel his dislike radiating off of him. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you, you foolish girl?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

“You had your exit, your out. You were scandled. Ostracized! I even had you as far as at the airport gates. But no, you came back. You came back and left me back at square one on how to get rid of you!”

Realization dawned to her, “It was YOU!” Riley leapt to her feet. She felt no fear, only anger coursing through her. “YOU staged those photos, YOU unleashed Tariq on me.. and you timed the release of those photos, at the most prime time allowing maximum humiliation and zero time in between Liam’s announcement. You’re despicable, I bet you’re even disappointed that Tariq’s attack on me didn’t end.. didn’t end up the way he planned.” She had deliberately slowed her speech as each new revelation came to play in her head, she had lowered her voice with disdain and disgust.

Constantine let out a scoff-laugh at what he considered to be a poor attempt of exerting dominance. “You’re right, and quite honestly I don’t care what that pompous buffoon would have done to you, but I must say, those pictures certainly did deliver.” Constantine was teasing and patronizing her, “And now you’re here, still trying to get to my son.”

Riley crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at him, “I don’t know what you’re tal-“

“Enough. I know everything.” He waved in front of her the very note that Liam had written inviting her to his balcony that he got from one of the guards. “You poisoned his heart, and now his marriage. And with that, the entire kingdom is poisoned, all because your feelings.” He spit the last word out as if he found it vile.

“I wish feelings could be helped, but they can’t.”

“Of course they can. Love is a disease, and like all diseases, it can be vanquished in one of two ways. A cure, or death.” Constantine stood and leaned both of his palms flat on the surface of the desk. “Do you know where your beloved is right now? He’s right down that hallway, he should be packing for his new life, prepared to take on his engagement tour to unify two Cordonian houses and assume the responsibilities and sacrifices it takes to be king. But no.. He’s pining for you. Awaiting your arrival.”

“And I suppose you intend to keep him that way? Waiting for me, only to be rejected, never knowing I came for him?” Riley’s voice was desperate, but still cunning in reality. She needed him to know her questionnaire was not doubtful, but challenging. That she hated his deliberate intentions.

“No. In fact, you’re gonna walk down that hallway. You’re gonna sneak in and tell him you got his note,” Constantine slid the note across the table, no longer wanting it in his possession, and Riley picked it up. “You’re gonna tell him why you answered his call.. Because you don’t love him. It’ll break his heart.. And that will cure him.”

Wide eyed, Riley could only assume the consequence if she didn’t do as he said, “Or you’ll kill me.” She stated with no question in her mind.

“Oh no. I’ll kill him. Killing you would only make him love you more. And the marriage and kingdom would ultimately crumble.”

“And what about your precious Madeleine? I know how this works this is all about mergers and business transactions. How else would you get Godfrey and his house to join with yours?”

“Please, if Liam were to die at an assassin’s hand, he would die a martyr. Godfrey would forgive, even laud, the death. And the merger would be complete.”

“You would do that to your own son?”

“I’m doing it FOR my son.” Love was once Constantine's weakness and it led to Eleanor’s death. It scarred him and he became brainwashed. Convinced love was the enemy. And now, the product of his foolish love, was Liam, who he groomed to be the perfect king. Constantine applauded himself all these years. It was clear as day that even Leo knew the job belonged to Liam, so Constantine did everything to assuage any of Liam’s hesitation into taking on his duty. He always planned on Liam being the logical one, ready to take on the duty and a loveless union. Then that damn New York trip happened. And that damn Riley came in the picture. Immediately Constantine couldn’t tell if he actually hated Riley, or if he hated the idea that Riley was basically the new version of Eleanor that he’d never have.

[moonctzeny]

I don’t think I can wait

“You’re basically eating me up in your imagination right now”

“Oh, I’m doing much more than that”

pairing: Doyoung + fem!reader

genre: smut

word count: 1,927

warnings: public sex, dirty talking, light degradation but it’s consensual of course

summary: “You and your boyfriend, Doyoung, are out for a fancy dinner, but he looks so fucking good you can’t wait to get home. So you don’t.”

a/n: please don’t put your boyfriend’s fingers in your mouth during a pandemic

I’M SO FUCKING SAD THAT I HAD TO REUPLOAD, it was at 100 notes before it was flagged for one fucking picture... tumblr sucks.. anyways enjoy

——————————————————

Having a gourmet dinner in formal wear wasn’t really your thing. You were more of a making pizza in your underwear type of gal, but when Doyoung made a reservation at one of the fanciest restaurants in the area, to celebrate your anniversary, you couldn’t turn him down.

You dressed up for the occasion, slipping on one of the few designer dresses you owned, Doyoung’s favorite. Carefully chosing your make up and jewelry to match, you left your place smelling like expensive cologne and looking like a million bucks.

But none of that mattered. Because right now, as you finished the overpriced main dish you ordered, you only wanted to taste one dessert. Your boyfriend’s dick.

He had no right looking this handsome tonight. His hair was jelled back, letting his sharp eyes shine in their full glory over the candle light between you. The black silk shirt he chose to wear looked royal on him, the dainty jewelry accentuating his collarbones and making his neck look delicious. His long fingers looked even prettier than usual, decorated in silver rings, and you couldn’t stop daydreaming about sucking on them.

You took one more sip from the french wine he had ordered for you, the alcohol not helping your situation. You put the glass down, absentmindedly drawing circles around its perimeter with your finger. A feeling of guilt pooled in your stomach, when you realized you hadn’t listened to a word of the story that he was telling you.

“Are you ok? You seem a little out it tonight”

You took your right heel off, sighing at the alleviation of pain the shoe was giving you. Running your foot up and down his calf, you were glad the tablecloth was long enough to hide the inappropriate action.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m just- so needy tonight”

He chuckled at your tone, and studied your body language. A flushed face and a body leaning towards him, basking him in your attention, begging for his touch. He placed his hand over yours, rubbing little comforting circles with his thumb.

“We’ll get home soon baby, don’t worry”

You glided your foot higher up his thigh, the silky fabric of his slacks making the motion smoother. Batting doe eyes at him, you took his hand and guided it on your lips, as if to leave a sweet kiss. Looking around quickly, you made sure no one was staring directly your way and dipped the tip of his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. Your voice was sweet like honey.

“I don’t think I can wait”

You let him go since a second later, the waiter came, handing you out two little menus. You lifted your foot even higher, pressing it over your boyfriend’s clothed cock, happy to discover that he was already half hard.

“May I interest you in our desserts? You can choose from the menu over here but our specials tonight are crème au caramel, babas au rhum and chocolate lava cake”

Doyoung grabbed your ankle from under the table, stopping your little massage.

“Ooh ooh!” you wiggled excitedly, satisfied with your effect on him, “I’ll take the lava cake. I just love gooey things in my mouth”

Your tone was innocent but your intentions were far from it, and you saw your boyfriend almost choke on his spit from the corner of your eye.

“We’ll share”, he choked out and quickly returned the menus back to the unsuspecting waiter.

“Are you crazy?”, he whispered once the two of you were alone again. Well, as alone as two people in a crowded restaurant can be. The anger in his voice was only turning you on even more.

“What did I do?” you challenged.

“You’re basically eating me up in your imagination right now”

“Oh, I’m doing much more than that”

With that, Doyoung had enough. He stopped a passing waiter and asked for the bill, handing out his credit card impatiently. It wasn’t often you got to break his cool façade like tonight, turning him from the collected man he was to someone so fidgety. You put you shoe back on, excited for what you knew was coming next.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you up, guiding you to the higher floor of the restaurant. The waiter that had taken your order earlier saw you walk away and stopped you, a quizzical look on his face.

“Sir, are you leaving already? What about the desserts?”

“Pack them up, will you? I want to show the beautiful lady the view you have on your top floor”

You weren’t heading to the restaurant’s balcony, of course, but rather the bathrooms. Waiting around for any waiters to leave, you sneaked into the ladies room, luckily empty, hoping no one would interrupt you soon.

The moment you got in, you crashed your lips into his. He kissed you slowly but dirty, dipping his tongue in your mouth and turning you more desperate than ever.

The impatient boy was gone again, his calmness making it seem like he only wanted you half as much as you needed him.

He grabbed your neck and squeezed, and you weren’t sure if it was his dominance or the cold rings that were sending shivers down your spine. Walking you backwards with his grip, you felt the porcelain sink digging in your ass.

“So, did you have my dick in your mouth in your imagination earlier?”

You just nodded eagerly, unable to choke out any words with the way he was restricting your air flow. He released your throat, gripping your hair instead and pushing you down on your knees.

“Then show me, slut”

You wiggled a bit in spot, waiting for him to free his cock from the slacks he was wearing. He only moved the least amount of fabric possible in order to let it spring out, red tip angry and staring at you.

You put your hands on your knees, pushing your boobs together and staring at him in anticipation and thankfulness, like he just did you a favor. Leaning forward, you only trail your tongue across his slit, making him hiss. You move in circles around his tip, focusing on the sensitive skin located right under it.

“No time for this”, he mutters and laces his fingers in your hair again, fitting the entirety of his member in your mouth. You take up the challenge and start to bob against him, moving your head in a pivoting motion. Placing one hand on the base of his cock to stable yourself, you use the other to massage his balls.

“Fuck you’re so good at this”

You felt his cock turn incredibly hard inside your mouth and you couldn’t help but run your tongue through his length, feeling all the little veins and thinking how good he will feel inside you.

As if he heard your thoughts, he pulled you up, a hand kneading your ass. He slips his fingers between your pussy lips, realizing that you have no panties on. His stare was strict but you look at him with wide eyes full of innocence.

“I didn’t want my underwear to be visible through the dress”

He collected the juices that were already pooling there, and placed his fingers on your lips. You open up eagerly, lapping over his digits with such hunger that he’s just staring with an open mouth, his glance darker than ever.

“Is that the case? Or were you planning on getting fucked in public and just gave me the easiest access?”

You didn’t have time to answer him because he immediately pulled up the skirt of your dress, locking your right leg around his waist. The position would otherwise be a bit uncomfortable, but he was so hard and you were so wet that he just slipped into you effortlessly. You were so needy for him that just his tip filling you up triggered a daring moan from you. He bent down for a deep kiss, and you weren’t sure if it was to shut you up or because he got turned on by your desperation. You knew he had more to offer.

“I need more”, you whispered over his lips and he delivered, pulling your dress to the floor leaving you completely naked except for your heels. He turned you around, bending you over the sink, bitting your earlobe before pushing into you completely.

“Be a good girl and shut up”

It was so dirty, how he stayed all suited up and yet you were completely naked for him, bouncing on his cock. You stared at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes moving from your pleasure filled face, to your breasts, to the place were he was digging inside you.

He grabbed your leg, placing your knee on top of the sink, thus making his thrusts feel mind numbingly deep. You moved your fingers over your clit and started rubbing circles over it but he smacked your hand away, doing it for you instead.

The way he was fucking you just right, coupled with the fear of getting caught made it impossibly hard for you to stay quiet. Doyoung grabbed your throat once again, the mirror offering you the beautiful imagery of his fingers over your neck.

“We’ll get caught if you keep being so loud”

“I don’t care”, you moaned out, “let them know how good you’re fucking me”

He growled at that, picking up his pace and shutting your mouth with his hand, muting out the sounds you let out.

“You’re so nasty tonight, you little slut. Begging for it like a bitch in heat. I wouldn’t let you cum, but I don’t want your dripping pussy ruining the leather seats of my car”

His filthy words sent you over the edge, forming tears in the corners of your eyes and making your knees buckle. Doyoung held you in place, continuing to fuck into you, but your whimpering made it obvious that this was too much for you.

He let you kneel down, turning your face around to look at him as he jerked off over it. Your fucked out state was enough for him, soon urging you to open up. Pulling your tongue out for him, he started spurting his cum over it. He looked absolutely beautiful, with his flushed face and open mouth, and you gladly swallowed all of him, reopening your mouth to show him how good you were for him.

He kneeled down next to you, arms embracing you and he pulled you into the sweetest kiss.

“I love you”

“I love you too, Doie”

You let yourself get lost in his scent, the smell of sweat and his woody cologne calming you down. The moment wouldn’t last for long, as a knock on the door made you both jump up in panic.

“Just a moment”, you yelled out, quickly putting your dress back on and fixing your hair to the best of your ability. Doyoung took his suit jacket off, wrapping it around your shoulders and opened the door. The lady looked a bit taken aback to see him in the ladies room, but he only held you closer.

“My girlfriend wasn’t feeling too good”, he lied and she nodded in worry, convinced.

You walked out of the restaurant, a bag with your packed dessert in hand as he sighed.

“What am I gonna do with you?”

“Share the lava cake with me as we prepare for a round two?”

He laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Sounds like a plan”

[luxekook]

intensity | myg

⇥ pairing: yoongi x reader ⇥ genre: angst, smut, fluff, established relationship ⇥ summary: this is a sequel to intimidation. in which yoongi is intense in every facet of their relationship, except one… and the reader is on a mission to find out why. ⇥ word count: 3.9k ⇥ warnings: nc17, cursing, dirty talk, general chaos, dom!yoongi with a side of switch, sub!reader with a side of switch, rough smut [oral (f receiving), light choking, spanking, breast worship, slight marking, slight ownership kink, unprotected sex (wrap it, folx, please), mentions of threesomes]

⇥ dedication: @shadowsremedy​​ heaaaath bby! i hope you like this! i think it might be terrible, but plz enjoy anyway sdfsdhbakj

⇥ prequel: intimidation

Six months into dating Min Yoongi and you were so fucking whipped for him that you might just say the dreaded “L” word.

Was it too soon to know? The majority of your friends sure thought so - Nia being the exception.

(“Wife him up, girl!”)

The majority of your friends also thought that Yoongi never outwardly showed how much he cared for you. But, you knew they just weren’t looking hard enough.

They weren’t looking at the way he linked his pinky with yours just to be connected to you. They weren’t looking at the way he always gave you his full and undivided attention no matter how trivial of a story you told. They weren’t looking at the way he flushed a light shade of pink whenever you complimented his music.

But you were looking. God, you were looking so hard you feared you might just melt under the intensity that was Min Yoongi.

Everything about Yoongi was intense: his aura, his focus, his ambition.

Everything about dating Yoongi was even more intense: his devotion, his affection, his possessive nature.

Everything about him was intense… Everything except one thing.

Sex.

And you were baffled.

Yoongi treated you like a queen, albeit a fragile one. He fucked you like you might break under him. He fucked you softly, sweetly.

You weren’t saying that the sex wasn’t good. He always made sure that you came multiple times with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. But it just wasn’t enough. It was like he was holding part of himself back from you. And you just wanted to know why.

Were you not attractive enough to evoke such fervor? Was he not into it? Oh lord, did he think you sucked at sex? You could pull out some receipts that said otherwise.

And, yet, the absolute worst part of it all was the fact that Yoongi’s reputation for being a dominant lover preceded him. You heard it from your friends, you heard it from the twitter-verse, you heard it from his friends… fuck, you’d even heard it from your damn T.A.

And yet, all Yoongi gave you was sweet, sweet vanilla.

And all you wanted was some damn rocky road.

The tipping point came earlier that night when you had overheard Yoongi and his friends talking about you…

“Aren’t you bored, Yoongi? What do you even do together? Make flashcards?”

That was one fucking time, you had glared accusingly at the wooden door that separated you from where Yoongi and his friends had been congregated in his tiny dorm room. Your ears had strained to catch Yoongi’s muttered response through the cacophony of laughter and had failed miserably.

When you had planned to surprise your boyfriend after your night class had been cancelled, you’d never thought that you would end up being the one caught off guard.

You hadn’t initially meant to eavesdrop on their conversation, but his friends had just been so loud and your curiosity had just gotten the best of you.

“She’s such a goody-goody… I bet she doesn’t let you get rough.”

That time you had heard Yoongi’s answer: “I just don’t know if she could handle it… (y/n) is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t want to mess it up if I blow her back out and break her.”

You had heard enough. Turning on your heel, you had marched back down the dimly lit hallway towards the stairwell. 

“Couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle it?”

Now, you found yourself still seething hours later. Livid, but not without plans. You had already decided to take this matter into your own hands days earlier, but now your timeline had shifted. Oh, Min Yoongi would rue the day…

You smiled at your reflection in the mirror as you applied your blood red lipstick. Your phone long since silenced lit up for the umpteenth time that evening.

You were ignoring him. Was it petty? Yes. Was it strategic? Fuck yes.

You knew that Yoongi would be going to Seokjin’s birthday party tonight. The older boy had blackmailed Yoongi into going a few weeks ago by threatening to release an old demo that Yoongi had made in his early teens.

Suddenly, you were also going to make an appearance - a complete coincidence, of course.

Nia had convinced you that going with her to this party would drive Yoongi crazy, especially since you'd been ignoring him. But she also had an ulterior motive. Nia and Jimin had been hooking up on and off since you and Yoongi had gotten together; and, right now, they were very much in an 'on' phase.

You gave yourself one last glance over in the mirror and shrugged. The little black dress and heeled ankle boots would do. After all, it was really what was underneath that counted.

The new lingerie that you had impulse-ordered a few days ago after brainstorming ideas on how to make Yoongi lose his mind had arrived. The set that you settled on tonight might just achieve that goal - all black lace with garters and thigh highs.

It had put a nice dent in your wallet, but it would be well worth it if your boyfriend finally fucked you into next week.

Speaking of... your phone lit up yet again, this time with an incoming call. You were so tempted to pick up. Yoongi's voice was your favorite - all deep and raspy and teasing.

Your freshly manicured finger sent him to voicemail.

“(Y/n)!” Nia’s voice called from her bedroom adjacent to the bathroom you currently resided in, “Are you ready?”

“Yes, let’s do this.”

Fifteen minutes later, you walked through Jin’s front door. “Whoa,” Nia stopped short, making you bump into her.

“What?” You surveyed the crowded room. Then you spotted him. “Oh my god.”

Jin stood atop the coffee table wearing nothing but a pair of banana-printed shorts and a felt birthday cake hat. He was also dancing rather aggressively to “Birthday Cake” by Rihanna.

“Yah!” His attention suddenly fell on you and Nia, “Wel-come and put your name on it.”

You both gaped at the birthday boy who now was descending into a twerking fit while screaming the word ‘cake’ alongside Rihanna.

“Do you think it’s too late to turn back?” You whispered to Nia.

“He’s already seen us. We’re doomed,” Nia responded, her eyes still glued to Jin’s writhing form.

Laughing, you grabbed Nia’s wrist and tugged her towards the kitchen.

Suddenly, you felt eyes on you, on your body. You knew that Yoongi was here somewhere, and he’d seen you. It would be so easy to just go up to your boyfriend and smother him with kisses and affection like usual; but, that was not on the agenda. And so you forged forth without a backwards glance towards the living room where he must have been.

After fixing a drink and losing Nia quickly to Jimin, you were still steadfastly avoiding going back into the living room. Now, you were in a nice conversation with a boy named Jinyoung about the merits of being in Slytherin.

"Can I talk to you?" Yoongi pushed in between you and Jinyoung, effectively interrupting your rant over how Slytherin ambition can be used for good.

"Can it wait?" You spared your boyfriend a cursory glance before turning back to Jinyoung. Yoongi already looked thoroughly pissed off. Perfect. Suppressing a smile, you tried to reinstate your conversation with Jinyoung and pretend that Yoongi was not even there.

Yoongi let out a low growl before snapping, “No, it can't wait." He grabbed your hand and began to pull you down the narrow hallway. Your feigned protests fell on deaf ears as he continued to tug you along towards Jin's room. You waved in departure at an amused Jinyoung who just raised his glass in your direction.

Opening the door, Yoongi pushed you inside and slammed the door shut behind him. Crossing his arms across his chest, Yoongi pinned you with his stare. “Are you mad at me?" His question came with an accompanying head tilt and eyebrow raise.

“No. What makes you say that?” You reveled in the scoff he made in response.

Yoongi stalked towards where you stood at the foot of Jin’s bed. “You haven’t answered my texts or calls. You haven’t acknowledged me all night. You even walked right by me earlier in the living room, baby. So help me out, because I’m a little confused.”

“Join the club.”

“What was that?” His narrowed eyes spat fire in your direction. The words you had mumbled under your breath were obviously not as subtle as you thought.

“Nothing, baby.” You smiled innocently despite your boyfriend’s growing fury. “I just didn’t see you or your texts earlier.”

Yoongi’s jaw clenched. “Bullshit.”

“Yoongi, drop it.”

“No, I won’t drop it, (y/n)! You’re obviously mad at something I did.”

“I’m not!”

“Oh my god. You’re fucking furious.”

“I’m not mad, okay? God, I am so tired of you parading around like you know every damn thing about me. Well, guess what: you don’t, Min Yoongi!”

Your boyfriend’s eyebrows had practically disappeared under the fringe of his hair during your outburst. His eyes were comically wide as you continued.

“You think I’m so fucking breakable? Newsflash, buddy, I’ve been someone else’s sub before! But you wouldn’t know that, would you? You wouldn’t even know the first thing about what I like in bed. And you know why? Because you’ve never asked!”

Yoongi no longer looked shellshocked. No. Now, he just looked downright agitated. “Baby, calm down.”

This little shit right here…

“Oh no, you don’t get to tell me to calm down! Not when you’ve been going around telling everyone and their mother that you fuck me like I’m fragile. And, meanwhile, I’m over here being bombarded with people ranting and raving about how rough you are in bed! Well, if you’re so rough and ready then why the fuck am I still getting this sweet vanilla shit? Am I not attractive enough for you, is that it?”

“Kitten, I’d really advise you to stop talking.” The new nickname flew right over your head as you spared a glance in his direction and swallowed. His expression was thunderous. Too bad you were too far into your rant to turn back now.

“I must be really fucking boring to you if you won’t even consider spicing things up with me! Am I not pleasing enough for you to want your fucking mark on my body? Is that it? Or are you just tired of me in general?“

“You’re playing a very dangerous game here, (y/n)…” Yoongi cupped your chin in his hand tightly and drew your face up to his. You gulped. You had never seen your boyfriend look so angry, so punishing, so hot. He continued, “I’ve told you before that I’d give you anything if you just asked for it. So, I just want you to think about what you’re asking for here.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. “I haven’t thought about anything else for fucking weeks! I even considered asking Sehyun for advice!”

“And who’s Sehyun?”

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You had not planned to mention your dominant ex-boyfriend as part of this conversation.

“(Y/n), I am going to ask you one more time… Who. Is. Sehyun?”

In your tiniest voice, you replied, “My ex who used to dom me.”

Yoongi hissed a breath in between his teeth. “So, you’re telling me that instead of coming to me with this, you thought about going to your fucking ex? Your old dom?”

This was not good. This was really not good.

“That’s not the point!”

“You’re right.” Yoongi suddenly sits on the edge of the bed and tugged me face down across his lap. “The point is that you’ve been bad. And bad girls get punished.”

It was honestly embarrassing how quickly you got wet after he uttered those words with you splayed out on top of him. Positioned like this, you felt vulnerable, totally at his mercy.

Yoongi rolled up the bottom of your dress. As you felt the cool air of the room brush your lace-covered ass and thighs, Yoongi sucked in a breath. You felt his gaze on you. “Kitten,” His voice came out deeper than you had ever heard it before, "Did you buy these for me?"

You shimmied your hips on his lap, craving any sort of friction. "Yes," you moaned as you felt Yoongi's fingers hook under one of your garters, before pulling and snapping it back onto the skin of your thigh. The accompanying sharp sting of pain only made you even more soaked - a fact that was not lost on Yoongi.

"You like that, don't you?" Yoongi repeats his actions on your other thigh before murmuring lowly, "Don't you, my little slut?"

You let out an involuntary moan at his filthy words, grinding into his dark jeans.

Smack. Yoongi slapped one of your cheeks, startling you with both the sound and the sting.

“I asked you a question.“ Yoongi's hand kneaded your ass, causing the prickling of pain to quickly turn to pleasure.

"I do! I do like it, daddy.” The title slipped out automatically, but judging by the way Yoongi's cock twitched underneath you, he didn't mind.

"Fuck yeah, kitten. Call me daddy.”

Yup, he really didn't mind.

"Now, I want you to count," Yoongi growled, hand squeezing you roughly before sliding your panties and thigh highs off to fully uncover your ass and thighs.

"Yes, daddy.” The anticipation, though brief, made your heart race.

"This is for ignoring my messages.” 

Smack. "One."

“This one is for ignoring me in person.”

Smack. "T-two."

”This is for lying to me."

Smack. "Three."

"This is for thinking you're not attractive enough for me."

Smack. "Four."

"This is for even considering that I might find you boring."

Smack. "F-five."

“Look at you,” Yoongi’s fingers suddenly ceased their kneading and drifted to your drenched pussy, “You’re fucking soaked, and you’re only halfway though your punishment.” His finger slid inside you fleetingly before sliding back out. Your back arched in search of contact - something, anything.

“This is for not saying you wanted my mark sooner."

Smack. “Si-ix.”

“Actually, kitten, I’m going to give you two for that one.”

Smack. “Mm, seven.” The heat from his smacks was spreading from your ass to your pussy, settling low in your belly.

”This is for mentioning that prick Sehyun."

Smack. "You don't even know h-" Smack. Smack.

“E-eight!”

"This is for being a brat and not coming to me with your issues."

Smack. “Nine.”

“This is for fucking dripping all over my jeans despite the fact that this was supposed to be a punishment.”

Smack. “Ten.”

You laid slack in his lap for a bit, pliant under his kneading hands.

“You did so well, kitten.” Yoongi cradled you in his arms, pulling you into an upright position before laying you down on the bed with your legs hanging off the side. “I’m going to fuck you so hard…” He groaned, burying his face against your breasts, lips seeking. “But first, I think you need a little reward after taking that punishment so well.”

You arched, needing his mouth.

“Let’s get these clothes off of you.” He pulled your dress over your head before quickly unhooking your bra from behind your back.

“Goddamn, you really do have the prettiest fucking nipples I’ve ever seen, kitten. I always wonder if I could make you cum just by sucking them. I bet I can…”

Your mind grew hazy when he finally turned his head and took one of your nipples between his lips, dragging his tongue over the sensitive bud. He sucked it into his mouth with a groan, and you couldn’t help but moan, “Yes, daddy!” Your body felt like it was burning; but, still, you wanted more.

He turned to your other nipple and muttered, “You taste so sweet, (y/n)...” Yoongi worshipped your other nipple with his mouth, his tongue, and even the slightest bite of teeth. After finally leaving that one as aching as the other, he pulled back to face you.

“Kitten, you’re so fucking sexy.” He hovered over you, taking his time kissing down your stomach, leaving marks in his wake. Intentionally skipping the place you need him most, Yoongi trailed kisses on the insides of your thighs. Finally, he was poised over the seam of your pussy.

“This,” his breath caressed your slit, “Belongs to me.” You squirmed, anxious with anticipation.

“Say it,” Yoongi growled, slapping your pussy lightly, “Say that this pretty pussy is all mine.”

“It’s yours. God, Yoongi, it’s yours. Please, daddy.” Your pleas burst from your mouth in an embarrassingly whiny tone.

And then it happened in a blink. His mouth was on you. His hot tongue swiped over your clit before drawing it into his mouth and sucking it.

As he devoured you, a growl sounded from his chest; and, the idea of finally, finally inspiring that kind of lust turned you on so fucking much.

“D-daddy, I’m going to c-come!” You were already coming undone with each skilled swipe of his tongue.

Yoongi pulled back. Honestly, you really should have seen that coming.

(Or should have seen yourself not coming for that matter.)

Before you could even attempt to slide your own hand down to where you needed it most, Yoongi pulled you up towards him. Your legs shook as you tried to find your balance, but he was too impatient for that evidently.

Yoongi picked you up, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his slim waist.

Stumbling, you both crashed into the wall. His hips pressed firmly into yours, wanting you to feel him.

He rested his forehead against yours, and, breathing heavily, he said, "I can't believe you thought for one second that I didn't find you attractive." His hips ground into yours. You felt his hardness, his heat, his desire for you. "Does this feel like I'm not attracted to you, kitten? Can’t you tell how hard I am for you? Fuck, you just had me on my knees, facedown in your pussy... Don’t you know that you fucking own me?"

"Y-yoongi," You gasped for air, breathless from his admissions and his actions, "I know it now. You fucking own me, too."

His lips turned up at the corners before slamming down onto yours, kissing you as if you would disappear if he stopped. Your hand twined around his neck, lacing your fingers through the short strands of his hair and kissing him back with equal vigor.

He tasted so fucking good, like soju and strawberries. You sucked on his tongue, and he groaned. Yoongi’s fingers dug even deeper into the sensitive flesh of your upper thighs.

“Need to fuck you now,” He muttered into your mouth.

"You're gonna have to strip for that to happen, daddy,” You said, smirking as he set you down.

Smack. “I should have known you were a fucking brat,” he laughed.

You pouted in response as you watched your hot-as-sin boyfriend make quick work of his clothes. Your eyes drifted over the lean muscles of his body before settling on the hard length of his cock. What you wouldn’t give to take him in your mouth right now…

“No time for that,” Yoongi chuckled, noticing your attention and catching onto your train of thought, “Now be a good girl and bend over the bed.”

Well, since he asked so nicely.

You complied, bending over with a mix of excitement and arousal bubbling in your stomach. You could feel Yoongi standing over you. He snaked one hand around your body to thumb one of your nipples. His other hand ventured lower, and one of his fingers pumped inside your pussy.

He pinched your nipple. “Fuck, kitten, you’re so fucking wet for me.”

“Please, daddy. Please fuck me.” You groaned, arching into his finger as he pumped it in and out of you. “I need your cock.”

“Yeah? You want daddy’s cock?” Yoongi’s finger disappeared. In its place, you felt the crown of his cock slowly stroking your folds. “Then, you’ll get it.”

He slid into you with a deep groan, his hand twining into your hair.  He was so hard; his arousal only made you needier. He slowly began to slide in and out.You moved your hips to match his, wanting to feel his full-length reach deep inside you with every stroke.

His thrusts became faster and harder. “Good girl.” You could feel his gaze fixed between your legs. “I see you taking me.”

Still gripping your hair,  Yoongi pulled out and slammed back in, giving everything into each thrust and rocking you against the bed.

You buried your head into the duvet to muffle your moans. It took every muscle in you not to come.

"Fuck, (y/n),“ He groaned as he plunged into you. You backed up into him, trying to get him even deeper inside you. He lifted you onto all fours and the resulting angle was divine.

Your body started shaking. Subconsciously, one of your hands shimmied down your body to touch your clit, needing that final push.

Apparently, not on Yoongi’s watch.

He pulled one hand away from its grip on your hip and set it back down with a smack. Your right ass cheek stung fiercely. “I didn’t give you permission to touch yourself, kitten,” Yoongi growled, “That’s my job.”

And, with that, Yoongi pinched your clit and slammed into you. That was all it took to push you over the edge. “Ah, Yoongi!” You screamed into the comforter of the bed in hopes that it might muffle your exclamation.

“That’s right, kitten, milk daddy’s cock. Fuck yes,” Yoongi continued to pound into you through your own orgasm. His moans got louder as his thrusts grew sloppier until his hot cum poured into you.

Breathing heavily, he collapsed on top of you briefly before pulling out and falling to your side. You both continued to pant in your collapsed positions on the bed. You could hardly move.

You turned your head to the side to look at your boyfriend. His eyes were hooded, his hair a mess. “Round two?” You suggested with a smile.

Yoongi’s gummy smile made a brief appearance, “You’re going to kill me, (y/n).”

“No,” Jin’s voice came from the doorway, “I’m going to kill you both.”

You and Yoongi screamed as you scrambled to pull the comforter over your naked bodies.

“I can’t believe this,” the birthday boy continued, “You fucked in my room? In my bed? On my birthday? And I didn’t even get an invite?” His eyes were twitching murderously. “I’m the one who’s supposed to have birthday sex! Me, you peasants, me!”

You shot Yoongi a speculative look as Jin continued to rant.

“Really?” Your boyfriend groaned at your unspoken question, “Right now?”

“It’s his birthday!” You hissed, “Besides, I did show up without a present…”

Yoongi pondered it, “Fine, but I am so punishing you for this later. Fucking hell, how many more kinks do you have that I don’t know about?”

As Yoongi trailed off, muttering about masochism and threesomes, you stood. Clutching the blanket to your body, you walked over to where Jin had finally quieted down.

The boy eyed you suspiciously, “What?”

“You said you wanted an invite, Kim.” You dropped the blanket, “Consider the invitation sent.”

a/n: big yikes on how this turned out skskskss hope you liked it anyway despite the chaotic-ness that is this fic

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 43 - Meant To Be

Title: Irreverent Pt. 43 - Meant To Be Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 22,571

A/N: I’m very nervous about this chapter, but I think it’s important nonetheless and I’m asking you to bear with me on it. I am very aware that this is an Aaron Hotchner story at its core, but I’d be remiss if I ignored the back story for a Reader I’ve come to really love and treasure. If it helps anyone, I picture John to look like Steve Rogers circa Winter Soldier. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Your mother was being impossible. Julian was escorting Elizabeth Abbott to her cotillion and everyone in the family was going except for you, which was completely unfair! You'd begged and begged the entire month, any chance you had with her, and she had yet to relent. You'd been on your absolute best behavior, you'd maintained your spot at the top of your class, and you'd even landed the lead role in the Nutcracker. Yet, your mother was of the opinion that little girls didn't belong at formal events.

Dom was back for his winter holidays and everyone was under the same roof again after nearly six months. Your Papa had been away on business for the past five weeks and there was a chance he hadn't yet spoken to your mother about the cotillion, so taking a risk, you asked him if you could attend.

He fixed you with his thinking look as you waited nervously, peeking over at your mother who seemed completely irritated with you going over her head.

"Have you kept up with what I taught you last time for your chess game?" he asks finally.

You nod. "Of course Papa.

"Good, then pick one of your brothers to play. If you win, then you may attend."

This was better than you could have hoped for. You quickly exchange a look with Julian who winks at you, bypassing your mother's glare.

"I'll play Julian," you say, standing to set up the board by the fireplace.

Dom, who had till that point been absorbed in his own business, chooses then to tune in to the rest of the family. "Oh come on! Julian's just going to let her win."

"No he's not!" you insisted, looking at your Papa. Dominic was being annoying for no reason and he would try his best to beat you on purpose. Why did he even care if you attended or not?

Your Papa looks between you and Dominic, and it must have been the fact that Julian avoided his eyes altogether that convinced him to listen to Dom.

"It should be a real victory, don't you think?" he asks you, fixing you with his stern face that always made you feel like he knew everything you were trying to hide from him.

"Yes Papa," you responded glumly, as you continued to set up. Dom and his smug face got up to take the seat opposite yours.

However, you needn't have worried. You hadn't lied when you told your father that you'd kept up with the chess lessons. You'd been practicing nearly every day, on your own and with Julian and his friends. Dominic lost far too quickly for being nineteen years old, playing his nine year old baby sister.

He stared at the board after you said checkmate for a few minutes, as if he couldn't believe that had just happened. As though you'd tricked him. Before you could really gloat in your victory, he roared and flipped the board over. You quickly scrambled to get away from him as he came at you with his arm raised.

"Hey, man, she's nine! What the hell!" Julian had ran to get between the two of you and Dominic shoved him, throwing him off balance, before he swung at his face.

You'd run to hide behind your father's chair as Dominic continued on towards you, having punched Julian in the face and knocked him backwards. It took your father standing up and being absolutely furious, for Dom to back off. He threw you a nasty look and strode out of the study, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Julian stood up, and you gasped loudly when you saw his face.

Your mother turns to you, absolutely furious. "You see! Now look what you've done. Your brother is supposed to be an escort - how is he meant to do that with a black eye?"

You turned to look at your father who only shook his head before walking out after Dom, leaving you to deal with your mother's wrath on your own.

How on earth was this your fault?

However, it had all been worth it, because here you sat at your very first ball. You'd had your dress picked out for weeks in the vain hope that you'd be allowed to go and it had paid off. Your legs dangled from the chair as you sat between your parents, your mother constantly fussing with your dress and chastising you to sit up straight. As the music swelled, you watched all of the girls walk down the steps in their white gowns, their fathers handing them off to their dates. Julian met Mr. Abbott at the foot of the steps and accepted Elizabeth from him. Your mother had managed to hide the black eye with some concealer and your father had knocked some sense into Dom, who was sulking at the bar in the back with some of his buddies.

Then there he was. Escorting beautiful Cecelia Rhodes, Johnathan Hawthorne walked past your table with her on his arm and as he caught your eye, he threw you a wink and a grin. You sighed to yourself, smiling wide as you watched him. John Hawthorne with his all-American good looks, amazing hair, and a smile that could warm the coldest of hearts. He was, by every definition of the word, perfect.

John led Cecelia to stand near Julian and Elizabeth - you knew that the two of them had practiced the dance all week with one other. You'd supervised. They better not mess it up and make you look like a bad teacher. However, you needn't have worried. Both Lizzie and Cece should thank you that they had the best dates there. All of the other boys messed up. A lot.

Your mother had given you a ten o'clock curfew and it was already nine thirty by the time the dessert was served, so you really didn't have too much time left before Mrs. Hernandez came to pick you up. Your parents had abandoned you a while back, so you were left to entertain yourself. You looked up and saw Julian talking to some boy from his class. It looked like him and Elizabeth were done dancing for the night, because her and Cece were sitting at a different table with some other girls. The music was still playing and there were a few of the older couples on the dance floor, swaying along to the music.

"Hey Cap."

You turn and see John coming up behind you and dropping into your father's chair. You giggled as you turned to him and said hello. You always loved it when he called you that. It made you feel special. He'd told you that you reminded him of one of the best chess players of all time, Capablanca, because the two of you both finished off your opponents lightning fast. He'd started calling you Cap because of it, insisting that one day you would be better than him. He also made it a point to play you anytime he was over, and while he had yet to win, he kept trying.

"You looked really good out there," you tell him, a slight color flushing your cheeks.

"Well, I had a pretty good teacher," he replies, smiling at you with his radiant smile that never failed to take your breath away.

"That's true."

He laughs, before swiping your dessert plate and finishing off the rest of your cake while you glare at him. But you're not really all that upset. It's John. You couldn't ever be all too mad at him.

"What're you doing here? Besides eating my cake," you ask him, indicating to the rest of his classmates who were scattered between a few tables in their own groups. None of the rest of them were sitting around with the baby.

"Well, I couldn't end the night without dancing with the prettiest girl here, now could I?" He smiles and offers you his hand, which you grab excitedly. No one had asked you to dance yet and it would be a shame to not dance even once at your first ball ever.

John leads you out to the dance floor and offers to let you stand on his feet, but you were determined to do this right. You weren't given the role of Clara for nothing - you earned that! He held both of your hands in his due to the height difference, and the two of you moved along to the music in formation.

"Hey John," you said, looking up at him shyly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you love Cece?"

He's quiet for a second as he thinks over your question. "Well, she is my girlfriend," he says after a few seconds, "but it's still new and we're figuring things out."

You nod. You'd expected as much - John was good at giving the right answers and he never lied to you if he could help it.

"Do you think you'll marry her one day?"

He laughs a bit at that. "Probably not. She's just a girl I'm dating in high school. Not many people end up with their high school sweetheart."

You smile at that. He's right. Most people grow up, move away, go to college and meet their wives and husbands there. Your parents had met one another in college, after all.

"Good," you tell him, allowing him to spin you around his finger.

He smiles a bit weirdly at that, his eyebrows going up a bit. "Why is that good?" he asks.

You're not sure if you should tell him. It is a little embarrassing. But then, if you didn't tell him, then he might pick some girl - Cece or otherwise - and that would cause other sorts of problems.

"Promise you won't laugh?" you ask him. You have to be sure that he wouldn't make fun of you for this. That would break your heart if he of all people laughed.

"I promise," he says, linking your pinkies with his.

You take a deep breath, before you look right at him. "Because one day, I'm going to marry you. And we'll get married by the lake where Auntie Amelia got married and I'll get to wear the biggest white dress ever. You'll wear a blue suit because blue goes well with your eyes. It'll be perfect."

You expect him to laugh even though he said he wouldn't. But then, John really isn't like that. He kneels down so he can look at you better, not caring that the music is still playing and everyone else is still dancing. He looks you right in the eye, completely seriously, and sticks out his hand for you to shake. "You got yourself a deal, Cap."

*------------*

It's Thanksgiving Break and his parents are on business in Asia so Julian had invited him to spend the holiday with his family. Dominic and his girlfriend would be there, and Julian had told him that you were dreading an entire week of playing nice with Dom so that he can show off the family and charm the pants off of the Huntingtons' daughter. John would be a welcome buffer.

He'd accepted mostly so he could avoid being the only person left on campus, and the alternative was to go home with the new girl he'd started seeing and he worried that meeting the parents so soon would send the wrong message. Caitlyn was nice and all but he didn't see much of a future there. She was bright in the way that girls tend to be when they're told they need to go to college to secure a husband. She could carry on an intellectual conversation for around five minutes, until you dug deeper and realized all she knew was the reader's digest version.

That's how he finds himself in Connecticut, sneaking out with you and Julian to the pool. He'd spent the day hunting with the men, and while your mother had thought you were going out to ride, you'd actually snuck along with them. Your father had merely shook his head before grabbing an extra rifle for you. He knew you didn't really want to hunt, you just wanted to be included. You kept conveniently missing easy shots and he'd gone to the shooting range with you too many times to believe you'd gotten that bad overnight. When he'd quietly called you out on it, you told him you didn't feel comfortable eating Bambi for dinner. He'd had to agree with you, so now your father thought he was a terrible shot as well.

It's been a while since he'd spent so much time with you, as he'd been away at college or doing internships. The last time, you'd been around thirteen and it had been his and Julian's second winter holidays when both of your families had booked a stay in Gstaad. You'd fallen ill and had spent most of the time sniffling and coughing in bed. Him and Julian would hit the slopes in the morning and then spend the rest of the day drinking hot chocolate and watching movies in your room while Julian complained about you getting your germs all over him. You talked to him about all the classes he was taking and the two of you had spent a memorable afternoon debating the merits of the death penalty. He was going to be using all of it for the paper he had due.

It's late at night and the moon is overhead. Julian had excused himself to go raid your father's liquor cabinet and in the distance you two can hear Dom and his girlfriend Katie fighting. Your mother had made some comment about her clothing and it had obviously gotten to her. She'd have to grow a thicker skin if she was going to last.

"Hundred dollars says they break up by Christmas." You look at him, your face betraying your glee at your brother's misfortune.

He laughs. "You're on." He had a feeling Katie was more resilient than most. She hadn't blown up at your mother to her face. She'd waited until it was just Dom and her. He had a feeling Dom would be making it up to her for a while, though, if he wanted it to last.

The two of you are sat at the edge of the pool, your feet dangling in the water. It's a good thing the pool is heated, because swimming in late November in Connecticut and dying as a result of freezing to death really wasn't his life plan. He looks at you, playing with the edge of the sweatshirt you'd borrowed from him when you'd first come over to Julian's room where the two of them had been hanging out. You'd persuaded them to come out with you and had asked to borrow something to throw on top since it was freezing outside. The Columbia law school hoodie enveloped you completely, nearly at your knees.

"What's going on with you lately?" he asks, turning towards the house and seeing the lights go on in your father's study, indicating that Julian had started raiding the alcohol.

"Well, high school sucks like you said it would," you reply with a bitter note to your voice. He knew that you hated going to boarding school and had thrown a fit when your parents had decided to send you. Neither Dom nor Julian had gone to boarding school, and you'd protested against it vehemently. However, your father hadn't wanted to leave you on your own in Connecticut and with him traveling so much and your mother being away as well, they wanted to give you a semblance of structure. He wasn't sure if he agreed with it either - he knew you'd be much happier going to Hopkins like the rest of them had rather than go boarding school hopping to whichever continent your father decided to have business in that year.

"Have you at least made new friends this time?"

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "If by friends, you mean guys named Brad who ask me out and then when I say no, they go and tell the entire school I slept with them, then sure yeah. I've made friends."

He raises his eyebrows at that. There wasn't a chance Julian knew about this, because if he did, Brad would be history.

"What'd you do about that?" he asks, wondering if he needs to go teach this Brad guy a thing or two about how to treat girls right.

"Told anyone who asked, that Brad isn't particularly well-endowed," you tell him, the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

"Good girl."

"I can handle it, it's not that I can't. It's just…I can't wait to be in college and not have to worry about this sort of crap."

He hums in agreement. College really was the great equalizer - or as much as it can be when everyone has the exact same blue blood upbringing as you do. He'd tried to make friends that weren't from his usual circles back when he'd done undergrad at Princeton and had hit it off with a few kids on scholarship. It was difficult however, when they either wanted to pay their own way or wouldn't let him help out. Made things awkward.

"Can I tell you something?" you ask. He notices that your fingers fidget with the ends of his sweatshirt - he's always found that little tell of yours endearing.

"Of course."

"I'm the last girl in my year to not have kissed anyone. Even Siena Robertson made out with Jacob Pemberley on the soccer field right before the break, so now I'm the last one left."

You look miserable admitting that and he feels for you - being a teenager and feeling like you're behind on stuff like that is its own brand of misery.

"It'll happen when the time is right," he says, hoping that's of some relief. However, even he knows how hollow his words sound. They're likely of little solace when you're a fifteen year old girl stuck feeling like there's something wrong with you for not having achieved these milestones.

He looks over at you and you had an odd look on your face, as though you're conflicted with something and struggling to really put your thoughts into words. He nudges you with his shoulder, moving his head up as if to ask, What else is going on in that head of  yours?

"I don't want my first kiss to be some guy named Brad," you admit, not looking at him, instead staring resolutely into the pool. The chilly air outside blows your hair ever so slightly, and he watches it move rather than look at you.

"Who do you want it to be?" he asks quietly.

You turn to him, your doe eyes wide with the hint of tears, biting your lip, and looking at him like you're not sure why he even bothered asking. As if he didn't know.

He feels his heart clench but he forces himself to look away from you, shaking his head as he does. "You're a kid," he says, the hair at the nape of his neck standing straight up as another chilly wind rushes over the both of you, blowing more leaves to the ground in a swirl.

He'd hoped that would be it. That you'd realize the absurdity of what you're saying.

"Please John." You plead, your hand reaching for his, sending a shiver down his spine. Your fingers are like icicles and he can't help himself from wrapping your hand in his, if only to warm it up.

"Julian would kill me," he tells you, wondering why that was the only thing he could think of to say to you. There's other reasons of course - it's wrong, so very wrong. He's a grown man and you're a kid. You deserve to have your first kiss be someone who you love - at least puppy love. Not like this.

"Julian doesn't have to know."

His jaw clenches as he looks down at you, your eyes fixed at where his hand is holding yours.

"Please," you try again, squeezing his hand to force him to meet your eyes. "Please don't let my first kiss be some guy named Brad."

He knows what you're saying. Don't let your first kiss mean nothing. Don't let it be meaningless and awful and only because you don't want to feel behind the rest of your classmates. Because he knows, that if this is how you feel already, you won't waste any time to make sure you're up to the mark, the second you get back to school. It would be rushed and sloppy and some kid named Brad would go around the school telling everyone he'd managed to snag you, and this time he wouldn't be lying.

He didn't want that for you. You deserved better.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he turns to look back at the study - the lights are still on, meaning Julian still hasn't left. The next second he's moved his hand out of your grasp, only to wrap it around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his head bent down to capture your lips with his, swallowing your surprised noise. Soft, plush, pliant, perfect. It's a quick press of lips on lips. Chaste, almost, if it weren't for the fact that he'd practically grabbed you like a rag doll, nearly to his lap. He won't take it further, though. He shouldn't. He moves away on a sigh. Your eyes are closed, your long lashes kissing your cheeks, your face illuminated by the moonlight.

"Thank you," you breathe out, your eyes still closed.

He knows he'll remember this moment forever.

There's the sound of the back door opening, and the two of you quickly move away from one another. Your eyes meet his and you smile just barely at him and he has a hard time not smiling back.

Julian returns, bottle of scotch in one hand and a bottle of Moët in the other. You refuse to drink scotch still, insisting it burns too much, so the champagne is always for you.

*------------*

It’s over a year later when he finds himself in Connecticut once again. His mother had asked him why he’d come just for cotillion season, and he tells her he'd missed her and his father and wanted to see them before buckling down for finals. He can't tell them the truth. That you'd called and asked him to.

"You know, it is quite unfair for you to have gotten to dance with me at your cotillion, but for me to be denied the same pleasure at mine," you'd said when you'd called him.

His face had split into a grin as he stood up to take your call, leaving his date sitting by herself. His mother had set him up with Arthur Cafferty's daughter who was studying fashion at NYU. Needless to say, the two of them had nothing in common and after three dates with the girl, he had really only asked her out this final time to break it off nicely.

"When is it?" he'd asked, taking his planner out of his bookbag. He hadn't even bothered to go home and change for this date. One would think the girl would take a hint and realize he wasn't interested.

You told him the date and he said he'd make it work. Your resulting squeal was so high pitched, he had to move the phone away from his ear.

"You're sure it's not too much trouble?" you ask, once your initial excitement wears off.

"Anything for my future wife," he jokes. "I am nothing if not a loving and doting husband."

Your twinkling laugh carried him through the misery of breaking up with the Cafferty girl.

He'd pushed off a couple of study groups, spoken to his Tort Law professor about making up the in-class debate he would miss, and caught the train up from the city. Julian had flown back from Europe, and the two of them had tagged along with you and your mother to your final dress fitting so that they could get their tux fittings done at the same time. The seamstress had you try on your dress and you looked like a ball of cotton, the swathes of tulle falling around you. You'd patiently stood while the lady made some last minute adjustments, both him and Julian poking fun at you while she did.

Once your mother left to go deal with the payment, you quickly moved to get out of the dress, grabbing another with you on the way into the fitting room. The seamstress dragged him and Julian up onto the fitting platforms next, tutting about them both having grown far too much since the last time. He detects movement in the mirror he's standing in, and you've emerged wearing another dress. He turns towards you, taking it in.

This dress flows down to your feet, draping against you as if it was made for you. As you take a step forward, his eye is caught by the deep slit to the side which exposes your leg with your movement. You know he's watching, so you turn for his benefit, revealing that there's no back to this dress. There's just the smooth skin of your back, fully exposed - his eyes wander down, catching the visible dimples at your lower back. He has to take a second and remind himself that Julian is there too, but you'd seen his reaction - he's sure of it. You'd taken his breath away.

"Mother will obliterate you if she sees you wearing that," Julian warns, moving towards you to help you spin around in it.

As if summoned, your mother reappears, seemingly aghast at your dress, and quickly ushers you away from view. Neither him nor Julian can make out what the two of you are saying, but its obviously an argument. When you emerge, you look entirely put out and he catches your eye, rolling his eyes in sympathy and drawing a small smile from you.

The next night, Julian and him drive you to the venue, dropping you off, before going to meet up with some old friends in the area. You were head debutante and had to coordinate everyone else along with the cotillion Chair, and thus were arriving nearly six hours prior to the event.

It's dark by the time everyone has arrived at your ball. It's decidedly your ball, that much is obvious. You'd had the venue changed from the usual ballroom at the country club to the old Haverford Mansion with its vaulted ceilings and grand staircase. He briefly wonders how you'd managed to swing that - the Chairs are usually older women who rule these events like their life depends on it. Then again, you could charm anyone if you really wanted to.

Julian and him find themselves at a table with both of your families. Dom had brought Katie, who had stuck around despite your mother. You'd handed over the cash to him from that bet happily enough. Katie was great. You didn't think Dom deserved her and you were quite vocal about your opinion.

"Julian, my boy!" John's father exclaims, sitting down across from the two of them, "When's your next show coming?"

"Oh I've only just started on the new collection, Mr. Hawthorne, so not for a while. But I'll be sure to give you first peek when it's ready" Julian tells his father. The Hawthornes made it a point to always grab a piece from any collection Julian painted, his mother fancying herself a patron of the arts.

His mother briefly asks him and Julian why neither of them could ever manage to bring dates to such events and all of their classmates are getting married around them. John of course knew the reason why Julian never brought dates - his dates tend to wear suits instead of ballgowns and it wasn't the kind of attention he wanted brought to his life. Why he never seemed to have a date, however, was a very good question. One that could be answered if anyone were to remember the time he had brought a real date. Lindsey Carlyle had left last Thanksgiving when everyone had congregated at his family's brownstone, in a huff, claiming he wanted to spend more time with a sixteen year old girl rather than her.

"Remind me to tell my sister she owes me for making me sit through another one of these functions around all these people," Julian mutters to him, tugging at his collar.

John stifles a laugh. He was sure Julian would think of some manner of having you make it up to him - likely by simply having you spend the summer with him gallivanting around Europe. Julian didn't have it in him to truly be upset with you.

"I don't know how she talked you into coming, but she's had you whipped forever, so I guess I'm just glad I'm not here alone."

He rolls his eyes, elbowing Julian. It's no secret that he lets you boss him around - always has, ever since you were little.

Everyone quiets down as the music begins and the Chair comes to announce each girl. He knew you'd be last, being the head. To the side, all of the dates are standing, awaiting the arrival of the girls. Your father is upstairs, with the other fathers to the right of the staircase. One by one the girls are called, the Chair talks about each of their accomplishments as she announces them and their fathers walk them down the steps, to be handed off to the teenage boys in tuxes.

The music changes as it's your turn prompting him and Julian to exchange a look.

"Does the head deb usually get different music?" he leans over to ask Julian.

Julian shakes his head, his lips pressed tightly together in a way that John can tell he's trying hard not to smile and incur his mother's wrath.

The Chair begins to list your litany of accomplishments as your father walks out from the right and awaits you. He sees you emerge, and a collective hush falls over the crowd. You aren't wearing one of the regulation cotillion dresses like every girl before you. You're wearing the dress that had taken his breath away yesterday. There's a smirk planted quite firmly on your face as your father takes your hand and helps you float down the stairs.

John is positive your father's grip on you had been iron tight in reaction to your dress. Your date - a boy named William who John knew only vaguely - looks elated however. He helps you onto the dance floor and the music changes once again, with all of the couples dancing. John sees Julian's fists tighten as William's hands sit a little lower on your back than they should, and your father doesn't bother coming to the table, instead making a beeline to the bar.

"She's insane," Julian whispers out of the corner of his mouth, the both of them watching you with some amount of awe. No one did this at a cotillion. No one.

"I'll buy you that brush set you've been eyeing if your mother manages to drink less than five vodka sodas tonight," he tells Julian, the two of them grinning at one another.

Your mother throws a glare at the both of them as she knocks back her drink.

"No deal," Julian whispers back. "I'm going to lose that in the next ten minutes."

Turning their attention back towards you, they both watch as you twirl around in William's arms. The first dance is endless and at some point your father made it back to the table, carrying a drink in each hand. Your mother gets up when your father returns, the two of them having a quick, quiet exchange, at which Julian rolls his eyes.

However, as the second song draws to a close, John finds himself standing and making his way towards you. It really should be your father or one of your brothers cutting in for the first time, but he figures he should spare you their reactions as long as possible. He reaches you and William, towering over the boy as he approaches, and taps him on the shoulder to cut in. William appears a little annoyed but still hands you over, turning to walk to the sidelines.

He turns to look at you - you're sporting a smirk a mile wide, your eyes twinkling. You're pleased he was the one who cut in first.

"What a surprise seeing you here, Mr. Hawthorne," you drawl, humor coloring your voice.

"Well, I had to make sure I danced with the prettiest girl at the ball, now didn't I?" he replies, reaching for your hand and placing his other to your waist. You jump ever so slightly at the touch of his warm fingers against your skin and he has to disguise his laugh as a slight cough. When you place your other hand to his shoulder, it was as though an electric current ran through him.

The music transitions seamlessly and he draws you close into a waltz. He's highly aware that the two of you have nearly a hundred eyes on you and he can tell you're loving it.

"Are all the biddies clutching their pearls in horror?" you ask him.

"Why'd you pick this dress?" he asks, instead of answering your question. You already knew the answer.

"You liked it, didn't you?"

He nods. He had liked it. However, that didn't answer his question, so he looks at you, eyebrow quirked, imploring you to explain further.

With a slight roll of your eyes, you huff delicately. "I'm tired of being the good girl, the perfect girl. I wanted to turn some heads. I think we can both agree that I have."

"Your mother is going to kill you," he murmurs next to your ear, a smirk matching yours on his face. You had indeed turned heads. Some more than others.

"Oh please. Did you know, yesterday, she told me that I was far too chubby to wear a dress like this."

He starts to disagree with that assessment - you were anything but and the dress fit you like a glove as though it were commissioned for you.

"It's okay," you reassure him. "She's just upset she can no longer pull off something like this."

He laughs at that.

He twirls and spins you out, before catching you in his arms again.

"You look beautiful," he tells you looking right into your eyes, as though compelled to.

The faintest of colors graces your cheeks and you look bashfully (for the first time that night) away from him, smiling.

"Thank you."

The music changes again and he's almost worried that someone is going to steal you away from him, yet no one does. He meets Julian's eye above your head, and his friend looks to be talking his parents down from making a scene. Julian gives him an exasperated look as though to say, You see what I put up with because of her.

He looks back at you, shaking his head. "You're trouble, you know that?"

"You love trouble," you tell him, your eyes shining, smirking up at him.

He can't help himself from smirking right back. "You're a tease," he whispers back his fingers caressing your back, before he can catch himself. You're too young, even though you may not look it anymore.

As though sensing his change in mood, you lean up to him, reaching his ear. "Don't worry. I know that we can't. That you can't."

He looks down at you, meeting your gaze, reassured that you understand. He nods, smiling his gratitude that you understand. He can't have this seem in any way improper. He's set to take the bar. He's set to clerk for McGuire. However your quiet words have their desired effect, and he can feel himself relaxing, comfortably dancing with you in his arms.

As he continues to lead you around the dance floor, he's becoming convinced of one thing - if tonight is anything to go on, he's going to want to fulfill his end of the deal.

*------------*

After your cotillion, he'd gone back and started studying for the bar - head down night after night. He couldn't afford distractions.

He got a call the day you got your Harvard acceptance letter. You received a bouquet of dahlias and a shipment from Laduree the following day, much to the collective jealousy of every one of your dormmates.

The day he passed the New York state bar, you were his first phone call.

You were graduating. You were graduating and you would be an adult in the eyes of your families and the law. The two of you had already planned an entire summer country hopping across Southeast Asia with Julian in tow. John would be lying if he said he was anything less than ecstatic.

Julian had uncharacteristically offered to pick him up from Heathrow instead of simply sending a car. Assuming he wanted to talk through the details of the trip the three of you were headed out to the following week, John threw his bag into the back cheerfully and got into the passenger seat. Europe was the only place he trusted Julian to drive. Getting in the passenger seat with Julian at the wheel in the states was the equivalent of signing a death wish.

"How was the flight?" Julian asks, merging across the lanes and pissing off some cabbies on the way.

"Fine," John replies, taking stock of his friend. He hadn't seen Julian since the cotillion early in the year and he couldn't help but notice that Jules looked thinner. His already lanky frame was positively beanstalk-like. "What's been up with you?"

Julian glances at him quickly, before turning his attention back to the front. "Anthony and I broke up," he says quickly, as if simply trying to get it out of the way.

Well, that explained the weightloss. Julian was a true artist at his core. He insisted that pain was meant to be felt. "I'm sorry man. What happened?"

"He took me to meet the parents. Then he wanted to meet mine. We fought. He issued an ultimatum. Here we are."

John nods sympathetically. Telling the parents was out of the question. Neither of your families were the kind who would be supportive and understanding. Julian stood to lose quite a bit if he chose to be honest.

"Y/N noticed too," he says, referring to his own frame.

"You should tell her at least." This was an old discussion for them. John insisted that you should know. That you wouldn't care nor tell anyone. However, Julian's fear - fear of losing you and fear of being ousted - overpowered any rationale he was able to provide.

Julian shakes his head. "Pretty sure my father has got his claws deep in there by now. I just told her I was doing an experiment on the body's reaction to starvation in order to channel it into my new piece."

John breathes out a laugh at that. "She buy it?"

"No, but our family's good at the whole Don't Ask Don't Tell thing. Pretty sure she's got secrets of her own she doesn't want anyone to know."

He nods, feeling the guilty coil of lying to Julian rouse itself once again. He'd beat himself up about it quite a bit after he'd kissed you by the pool, knowing Julian would kick the absolute shit out of him if he knew. He might not be able to take John on physically, but it wasn't as though John would be fighting back exactly.

"Speaking of," Julian begins, his voice low and quiet, yet assertive in a manner that reminds John of your father and his, "we need to talk about her."

John crosses his eyes over to look at his friend, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He couldn't possibly know anything. "What about her?" he asks, doing his best to sound nonchalant.

"Don't do that with me man. You might think you're fooling the rest of the world, but you're talking to someone whose entire life is a lie. You think I don't know pining when I see it?" Julian sounds less angry than he should, John thinks. If anything he sounds resigned. Reluctant to be having this conversation at all.

"I'm sor -"

"It doesn't matter." Julian cuts him off. "I don't care if something happened. What I need you to do is promise me that nothing ever will."

"I don't - "

"Let me make it as plain as possible," Julian says, his mouth a straight line, hands gripped tight around the steering wheel. "It's me or her. You choose to pursue this thing, take it any further, then that's it. You'll have made your choice."

John couldn't believe what he was hearing. Never - not when he'd first kissed you, not when he'd danced with you, not when he'd dreamed of… - had he thought that there would be a chance of him being at this point. This awful point where he's forced to choose between you and Julian. How was he supposed to choose between his best friend and you - how could he possibly be expected to make that decision. He never thought Julian of all people would ask this of him. He expected a beating, a cold shoulder for a couple of days - but at the end he expected it to work out. How could it not?

"So you're issuing an ultimatum?" he asks, swallowing the anger he can feel bubbling underneath.

Julian doesn't even turn to look at him. "Yeah. I guess I am."

"Just because you're miserable, you're setting out to make everyone else around you feel the same way?" he asks, ugly malice coloring his voice as he turns to look away from Julian. He couldn't stand to look at him at this moment.

"Don't make this about something it isn't. I'm looking out for my baby sister. She deserves to have a college experience that isn't tied to some older guy that's only going to make her feel guilty about experiencing the same stuff he did, but tenfold."

"I wouldn't do that to her," John says quietly. He can't believe Julian would even think that about him. That he would in some way hold you back from having anything you wanted.

"You might not, but she'd do it to herself for you," he says quietly. John can see his hands tremble ever so slightly at the wheel.

"So that’s it?"

"Yeah." Julian breathes out a sigh and turns down the street towards your school. "That's it."

The rest of the car ride passes in tense silence.

You were valedictorian, the cord hanging down your neck signifying you as such. When you'd told him that, he'd asked if you were giving a speech but you'd told him you could care less about standing up in front of people you're unlikely to see again and talking about the wonderful experiences and memories - it rang of fakery and you hadn't wanted to end on such a false note. You'd excused yourself from consideration, so the class president gave the speech instead.

John sat with your family. Julian's words still rang in his head and he was finding it difficult to focus on much of anything. He followed everyone else's lead, clapping when appropriate, while his mind was miles away.

Once the ceremony was over, he sees you making your way through the crowd towards everyone - eyes shining, hat askew, hair flowing behind you, the largest smile he's ever seen firmly in place. You hug your parents first, then Julian.

"John!"

You approach him for a hug and he finds himself turning just barely to meet Julian's eyes. He hugs you from the side, arm loosely around your shoulders, eyes barely meeting yours - over before he knows it. Completely unlike any other hug the two of you have shared.

You let go slowly, the confusion clearly painted on your face as you look up at his face to figure out what was wrong. He sees you look from him, follow his gaze to Julian, and then back to him.

You know.

He's not sure how he gets through the celebration dinner afterwards. Words sit oddly in his mouth and he is mostly silent throughout. He can't keep himself from watching you. You're pretending everything is fine. It's your graduation and this should've been a good day. A happy day. And somehow he's pushed you into pretending.

It's late that night when there's a quiet knock at his door and the knob turns before he can say anything. He knows it’s you.

"Hey," you say, closing the door behind you. You're dressed in a little pajama set - navy blue with polka dots, the shorts covering you decently. It's cute, he finds himself thinking.

He gets up to sit at the edge of the bed, not trusting himself to say anything. He only watches as you walk and sit on the chair in the corner, instead of on the bed next to him, eyes trained on him.

"Julian said no, didn't he?" you ask, your voice smaller than he's used to.

He nods.

You're sitting so far away. He sees you swallow and look away from him.  It's quiet for a couple of minutes as you look out the window, processing what he's told you.

"Maybe it's for the best," you whisper, turning back to look at him.

How could the best be anything but you?

But it's his job to be the adult - to be the reasonable one. He can't deny that there's some merit to what Julian said even if he did do it as an ultimatum.

"You'll get to enjoy college. Live it up. Go to frat parties and get drunk and not worry about some older boyfriend waiting on you or judging you."

You laugh softly at that, rolling your eyes delicately. "Please. You and I both know that you'd just tag along."

He smiles. He would.

"You should date other people. You should experience love and heartbreak and all the stuff in between with someone who hasn't known you forever. It'll be new and exciting - you deserve to have a full college experience."

You agree. It makes sense. Especially given the completely different stages of life the two of you were about to embark on.

"Papa asked me to tag along with him this summer - he has some business in Europe and Latin America. I think I'm going to say yes. You and Julian go on the trip. It'll be good for you."

"It's your graduation trip," he protests.

You shrug. "There will be other trips. I think Julian needs you right now more than I do."

"What makes you say that?" he asks, eyebrow quirked in confusion. As far as he knew, Julian hadn't come clean to you yet.

"He said he broke up with some girl - Antoinette, I guess. He's seemed miserable lately and I think he's probably just heartbroken and miserable - he could use his best friend. His best friend who is there just for him."

He finds himself smiling in spite of himself. He's not sure he could've been this unselfish in your shoes. "Anyone ever tell you you're too mature for your age?"

You let out a soft breath of a laugh at that. "Have you met my family? Someone has to be."

He stands finally, walking to meet you at the chair. You look so incredibly small sitting there, that he finds himself kneeling down in front of you. You don't wait, simply launching yourself onto him - making up for the mediocre hug from earlier. You slip off of the chair, legs bent and splayed across his thighs as he catches you. It's all he can do to hold you tight against him, head buried in your hair, breathing you in.

You can feel his heart beating underneath as he holds you close to him. This wasn't how today was supposed to go. It should've been wonderful - the two of you, finally together after months of talking, teasing, overthinking - it should've been easy. He should've grabbed you in his arms in front of everyone and kissed you right then and there - it's how you'd imagined it would go all those nights laying in bed, listening to the sound of your dormmates snoring. That first kiss - that had been everything you'd needed then, the memory of it carrying you through the rest of the school year as you turned away boy after boy, content to live with the mere echo of that kiss reverberating through you.

High school was just something to get through. College was meant to be perfect, freedom, and John. John, who made everything else perfect by simply being there with you. John, who had been the reason you'd kept your head down and done everything asked of you - so that no one could hold anything against you when the inevitability of you and John materialized. The two of you had done everything right. You'd waited. You'd waited and waited until it could be proper, until it would be accepted. It had been torture and the only thing that had carried you through it had been the knowledge that one day very soon, you'd have him.

You can feel your eyes welling up as it really starts to sink in - this wasn't going to happen. You and John were not going to happen.

You shift slightly, moving back from where your head has been tucked into the crook of his neck while you straddle him on the floor. He looks at you, with his deep blue eyes threaded with strands of caramel, that never fail to imbue you with warmth. You reach up to touch his cheek, thumb grazing his cheekbone, feeling the little stubble that's started to appear. Your eyes leave his and roam to the pink of his lips and before you know it, you've leaned up, capturing them with yours. There is the barest of pauses, before his hold on you tightens exquisitely, pushing you up, closer to him, the barest of growls from the back of his throat as he deepens the kiss. This was entirely unlike your first kiss. John claimed your lips as though he couldn't bear to be apart from them for even a moment, his hands leaving tingles of sensation everywhere they went. You let go with a sharp gasp, and a soft moan escapes him that you can't help but want to taste, as you meet his mouth again, again, and again until you forget if the air you're breathing is even your own.

When you finally leave, it's with a quick goodbye, lips just barely pressed to his cheek. He finds himself reaching up to touch the spot on his face that you'd grazed, hoping to keep it there forever.

*------------*

Dominic had kept all the guys out late the previous night, fully invested in making the most of his final day as a bachelor. John had made it back in one piece, thankfully, but had awoken to a migraine. The water and painkillers left for him on the nightstand serving as his only solace.

He'd had the immense pleasure of meeting Matthew for the first time. He'd heard through the grapevine that you were dating some guy, but Matthew had not been what he expected at all. He was cocky, a showboat, and had an ego the size of Texas. If anything, Matthew was the exact opposite of the kind of guy he'd thought you'd ever date.

You'd come back from college for the weekend wedding, Matthew in tow. The rest of your family was busy with last minute wedding stuff, so John had been tasked with greeting everyone. The Costello family had sent Frank Costello's son to represent the family, and as he happened to go to school with you, he'd also tagged along. You'd walked in, your face scrunched up in exasperation, the two boys trailing behind with the luggage. You'd hugged him quickly before introducing both of the boys, and John had had to control the flash of anger he felt when Matthew wrapped a meaty arm around your waist, squeezing it tight, and hinted at the two of you going to take a nap. You'd seemed a little embarrassed, and tried to laugh it off, but John could tell that had made you uncomfortable.

As you all start to walk down the hallway towards the rooms he's pointed everyone to, Ricky lingers, meeting his eye briefly. "If you're wondering what she sees in him, you're not alone," he says under his breath so only John can hear.

He had a feeling him and Ricky would get along just fine.

His initial impression of Matthew was only confirmed later during the bachelor party that had gone on far too late. He'd told Dominic and Julian that he'd stay more or less sober to make sure there weren't any issues, and had found himself nursing a drink off to the side with Julian and Ricky, watching the women dancing up on the stage. Him and Julian had tried to push for a poker and steak bachelor party, but Dom had gone and rented out an entire burlesque club. The night had simply gone downhill from there, and John was convinced that if any of the wives or girlfriends knew what took place there, there would be more than a couple of broken relationships.

Julian excuses himself after a while, stating the need to grab a smoke, so John is left with Ricky who had turned out to be a good egg. Why couldn't you have dated him? That he could've understood.

Both him and Ricky had looked up as Matthew walks past them, led by some girl. Matthew sees the two of them staring at him. "You'd do it too if your girlfriend didn't put out either," he'd slurred, half drunk as the girl continued to lead him towards the private rooms in the back.

John shares a look of with Ricky. "Good for her," Ricky mutters, his jaw tight, indicating at the bartender for another drink.

Nodding to where they'd seen Matthew disappear, Johns asks, "Is that normal?"

"Couldn't tell you," Ricky replies, "We aren't exactly close. I hear things, but don't really know what to believe."

John forces himself to take a deep breath and remember that it wasn't any of his business to interfere with your relationship. You were an adult and could handle it. If this is how Matthew is, then he doubted you were entirely unaware. He really hoped you weren't. However, that begged the question - why on earth were you with this guy?

He'd gotten dressed in the grey suit that the groomsmen were wearing and gone downstairs to grab breakfast. The ceremony would be taking place in the afternoon, and the entire place was a flurry of activity. He caught a glimpse of you racing down the hallway in a robe, calling out to him to make sure that Dom and Julian were up and ready.

After he'd gone through each guy's room and made sure the entire bridal party was accounted for, he'd ended up doing a couple more last minute things that Katie's mother asked of him. With only an hour before the ceremony, John made his escape, leaving Julian in charge of Dom. He needs a breather.

He finds himself on the upstairs balcony, overlooking the large grass lawn where the chairs are assembled and guests would be arriving soon. Taking out a cigarette, he lights it and takes a drag, feeling his shoulders untense for the first time since he's woken up.

"Are you hiding?"

He turns at the sound of your voice. You're dressed in a blush pink gown that flows to the ground, hair done up - a couple of strands framing your face. You're smiling, the soft smile that graces your face and the sparkle that enters your eyes - the smile he knows that you save for him.

"Hey Cap. What're you doing here?" he asks, smiling softly at you, as you walk towards him.

"Needed a break," you admit. "Katie's great, but her sorority sisters are a bit too much energy for me right now."

He lets out a chuckle at that.

You reach him, grabbing the cigarette easily out of his hand, and bring it to your own lips as you lean against the pillar in front of him with an air of ease.

"How was last night?" you ask him, letting out a puff of smoke, before passing it back to him.

He thinks about your question. Should he warn you about Matthew? Was it his place to do that? He should, he thinks - he'd want to know if he was in your shoes. You deserved to have someone better.

He feels you nudge him, as you shift to lean over the balcony by his side. You're looking at him in question as he's been silent since you asked.

"If I say something, promise not to take it the wrong way?" he asks, hesitation layered in his voice.

Your brow furrows slightly, but you nod, prompting him to go on.

"Matthew - do you like him?"

"Why're you asking me that?"

John swallows as he looks down at you next to him with your eyes narrowed slightly. "He's not as…discreet as he should be," he manages out, doing his best to convey his concern but still keep it polite.

You barely react at that. You either know or don't care and he's willing to bet it’s the former - you would definitely care to have a partner that was considerate and tactful rather than one whose words and actions were circumspect in the public eye.

"Did he say something specific that has you concerned?" You don't meet his eyes, turning to look out at the lawn, where ushers are starting to seat some early guests.

John shifts a bit on his feet, unsure of how to phrase it. "He - um - he said something about you not putting out," he blurts out, stuttering through it like some prepubescent boy. He really shouldn't be feeling quite so awkward about this, and yet he does.

He hears you sigh - then feels you slump slightly and he turns and looks at you, relieved you aren't upset with him and worried all over again because you just look sad.

"I'm just not ready," you confess, looking up at him.

He shakes his head. "You don't owe me an explanation. I just thought you'd want to know, that's all."

You nod, eyes shifting from his, down to the ground.

It's quiet for a bit as the two of you pass the cigarette back and forth, watching more guests arrive and take their seats.

"Do you even like this guy?" he asks, unable to help himself from repeating his initial question. You hadn't answered it really.

You let out the barest of laughs, a sad smile settling on your face as you turn your head to look at him. "He's not you."

John feels his heart clench. The two of you didn't talk about it anymore, having swept it under the rug for Julian's sake and to maintain a semblance of normalcy for everyone else.

"We should go," you say before he has a chance to speak. "Katie will want us both there for pictures soon." You shake your head slightly as if to clear it, and he sees you force a larger smile to your face before you reach for his hand, leading him back inside.

Your hand feels incredibly small in his and he allows himself to be led by you.

The two of you walked down the aisle together, your hand tucked into his elbow, a bouquet held in the other.

He watched you dance late into the night. You danced with everyone - Julian, Ricky, and him, both Dom and Katie, your father and his.

He knocks back his drink as the musicians call for the final song of the night. You and Matthew sway together, your hair still perfectly in place, head rested on Matthew's shoulder, heels long ago shed off and forgotten under some table.

The music swells around him as he drinks slowly. He missed you. He didn't just miss you when he was alone. He missed you when he was surrounded by people. He missed your laugh through the din of laughter. He missed your smile amongst the sea of smiling faces. He missed the little jokes you'd make that were meant just for him. He missed the way your hand would squeeze his out of the blue, reminding him that it was your hand held tightly in his. He missed your very essence that used to bathe him in the feeling of light and air and you. Overwhelmingly you. Extensively you. You had saturated his very being with your presence.

Now, he simply felt bereft.

*------------*

Everyone had just sat down to Thanksgiving dinner at the van Dorens' place - John's parents had been invited to his mother's side of the family and John had begged off spending another holiday with the grandparents he couldn't stand. Say what you would about your families, at least they could have fun and relax when the occasion called for it. He'd instead coordinated his vacation with Julian's return and found himself tagging along to dinner at your boyfriend's parents' home.

That had not been the original plan. Him and Julian had gotten in the day before, however you'd been delayed on campus and hadn't made it back until Thanksgiving morning. You'd walked in, your skirt breezing around your legs, looking every bit as beautiful as ever. You'd greeted everyone and when you'd hugged him hello, you'd held it for a second longer than expected. "Can we talk tonight, after dinner?" you had asked, your voice low so that no one else could've heard. He'd nodded subtly, covering it up with a smile, as everyone sat down to breakfast. That was when your mother had announced that you'd all be going to the van Doren house for Thanksgiving dinner. That was news to everyone - even you, it would appear. You clearly hadn't known that dinner would be hosted at Matthew's home. You'd asked your mother when that had happened, however she'd insisted that that had always been the plan and that you and Julian must've forgotten. That was how he'd found himself seated next to Julian and across from you at the van Doren home. Had he known this would be where he'd end up tonight, he would've suffered through another retelling of his grandfather's World War II recollections about taking down the "Japs". It didn't matter how often John said you couldn't talk like that anymore - his political correctness fell on deaf ears.

The van Dorens had now been present for a few events over the past two years since Dominic and Katie's wedding, yet John hadn't warmed up to Matthew at all in that time. He would've thought he was being biased about it, but Julian didn't like him either and made no effort to be discreet with his distaste of the boy. He wasn't even a boy really. He'd swooped in on an eighteen year old while being a fifth year senior. The guy was barely a couple of years younger than him. John and Julian had both took the mickey out of you when he hadn't managed to get into any decent law school and had to bribe his way into Boston's program because he'd wanted to stay nearby. John was of the opinion that Matthew knew very well that he wouldn't last through anything long distance with you - there'd be far too many options available at your fingertips without his meatball self standing in the way.

A pregnant Katie - who was absolutely glowing - was seated next to you, the two of you chatting about her upcoming baby shower. He'd watched earlier over cocktails, as you touched Katie's stomach gingerly - as though worried you'd hurt her - with the softest of smiles and your eyes widened in awe. It appeared you and Dominic were finally getting along with one another, as you were planning on spending part of your winter holidays with him and Katie out in California.

"John, I heard from Agnes Mayweather that you and Cecelia have been seeing one another again. How is that going?"

John looks up at your mother's question and notes your look of slight surprise. He hadn't yet told you that he had started seeing Cece again - it hadn't been that long and it simply hadn't come up organically in conversation yet. Since his move from DC to New York, he'd been looking for old friends to hang out with, and him and Cece had simply fallen together again easily.

"It's good," he responds with a smile. "Her family does Thanksgiving in Europe every year, so that's where she is right now."

"Who's Cece?" Katie asks, a smile on her face, eyes curious. In her entire time with Dom, she had never seen John mention a girl with any semblance of seriousness.

"His date for cotillion," you supply, a bemused expression on your face. John's not sure what to make of it exactly - were you upset he hadn't told you he was dating someone? Or dating Cece? As far as he knew, you and Cece got along just fine, in the limited interactions you'd had together.

"You must've been like - what - eight or nine then?" Matthew asks from your other side, putting his arm around the back of your chair.

"She was nine, yeah. Only person under the age of sixteen who was even allowed to attend," John says, a small smile on his face as he remembers the sight of your nine year old self, sitting at a table all alone, eating cake and watching everyone else dance.

"You always have liked doing all the grown up things, haven't you?" Matthew comments with a short laugh as you roll your eyes, yet allow him to grab your hand that's been resting on the table.

One day, John hopes that seeing someone else have and hold you won't cause that sharp stabbing feeling in his chest. One day could not come fast enough.

The dinner continues and the drinks flow, the food transitioning from turkey and mashed potatoes, to pies and pastries. He sees the large tray of tiramisu you'd brought with you, and grabs a large square for himself. To say he was addicted would be selling it short. You and Matthew both had a slice of his mother's pumpkin pie in front of you. Funny - he thought you hated pumpkin pie.

The sudden clinking of silverware against glass catches everyone's attention, and John turns to look at Matthew, who is standing, wine glass raised as though to make a toast. Every single person turns to him as well, and John can't help but notice your slightly furrowed brow as you look up at him.

"Thank you all, for being here today," Matthew begins in a booming voice that carries across the long table. "I want to take the chance today and appreciate the woman who has been by my side these past few years, the most beautiful woman I've ever known." All eyes turn to you, and your face has colored under the attention, as Matthew continues. "The day I run for Congress, I want you to be the woman standing behind me, supporting me. Y/N, darling, will you make me the happiest man in the world, by saying yes to being my bride?" he asks, a ring in hand as he looks down at you expectantly.

A tense buzz of silence has fallen across the table at the conclusion of Matthew's speech. You appear to be in shock and he can't tell if it's a good surprise or bad. Julian won't meet his eyes, looking only down at his lap instead of across at you. And, if John isn't mistaken, he sees your father nod imperceptibly so, out of the corner of his eye.

You nod shakily, before a large smile breaks out on your face. "Yes, of course." John watches as Matthew pulls you up out of the chair, pushing the ring onto your finger, and presses a kiss to your lips in front of everyone, as the rest of the table breaks out into excited cheers or claps. John can't believe what just happened. You were only twenty one years old! He couldn't believe you'd agreed to marry Matthew of all people - the guy who had proposed by asking you to stand behind him while he ran for Congress. What the hell was wrong with you?

He turns to look at Julian while the rest of the party offers both you and Matthew their congratulations, Katie examines the giant gaudy ring on your finger, and your mother cries, patting her tears away with a handkerchief. Julian, however, has disappeared in the commotion, and John is left to sit there and take in the new state of the world before him.

It is late that night by the time everyone returns to your family home. There had been a lot of people gushing at you and Matthew, a lot of photographs, however at the end of the day you'd chosen to come home with the rest of them. Your parents weren't particularly keen on you spending the night at your fiancé's home due to the optics, even though everyone of course turned the other way and didn't ask any questions when the two of you traveled together.

Your parents had retired to bed nearly immediately, both of them hugging you and telling you how very proud and happy they were due to your engagement. The rest of you had ended up in the study, where Dom and Katie talked to you about potential wedding venues in the Napa Valley. John listened along and added in comments passively, trying to cover for how completely disengaged Julian was from the conversation. Eventually, the two of them left to go to bed as well, Dom helping his wife up and out of the study, shutting the door behind, leaving just you, John, and Julian in the room.

It's quiet for a while as you get up to fix yourself another drink, eyebrow raised in question at the both of them. John shook his head. He wanted to stick to the single drink he'd been nursing since he had sat down. Julian hadn't noticed your question, having stared straight out the window, to the pool in the backyard.

"Are you really going to marry him?" Julian asks, turning away from the window to face you, breaking the silence.

You appear taken aback as you turn from the bar cart, having poured yourself a vodka soda. "What kind of question is that?"

"A serious one. Tell me honestly, that if he hadn't asked you at Thanksgiving dinner in front of everyone - if he'd asked you last week at school or after the two of you got back to Boston - tell me you would've still said yes then." Julian's turned to face you, both his voice and face intensely directed at you as you're perched on the arm of the chair next to John.

He sees you falter and cover it up by taking a sip of your drink. "I don't know. Who knows what would have happened. I said yes - that's what actually happened. What matters," you reply with a definitive set to your voice, unable to look Julian in the eye for longer than a second.

John turns to you fully. That wasn't the right answer to that question - it should've been an enthusiastic, no holds barred yes. Instead it was…whatever that was.

"You know his mother flinches whenever his father walks by her, right?" Julian asks, exchanging a look with John as he does. They'd talked about that before, how Mrs. van Doren seems terrified of her husband in a manner entirely unfamiliar to the both of them. Their mothers didn't cower from their fathers that way.

You appraise them both before you speak. "I'm not her and Matthew is not his father," you state firmly. "That is my future family, and you shouldn't speak about them like that," you declare, as though trying to steer the conversation to a close. John can tell you'd been aware of that - you've always been fairly observant so he isn't entirely surprised.

Julian stands up all of a sudden, causing both of you to look at him curiously. He walks to the window, looking out at the backyard before he speaks again. "You do realize that the dinner with the van Dorens - Mother lied. That wasn't always the plan. It only became the plan yesterday because it was decided that Matthew would propose to you tonight."

"Okay…so what? My boyfriend decided to propose to me. What's the big deal?" Both you and John look at one another in confusion, and then at Julian, prompting him to speak further.

"Did you notice that Papa and Mr. van Doren went off to his study for drinks afterwards? That Dom wasn't invited?" Julian asks, head still facing the backyard.

You stand up, setting your drink down on the table, and cross your arms over your chest. "What're you getting at Julian? Just come right out and say whatever it is you're trying to say."

Julian turns away from the window finally, instead choosing to lean against it, facing you. "He made the Singapore deal with them. With the van Dorens. Matthew proposing to you was part of the exchange."

There's a tense silence and John can hear you take a sharp inhale as you process what Julian had just revealed. "The only reason he'd need the van Dorens for Singapore is if - is if you said no to the Waldorf girl," you speak hesitantly, your breathing more shallow than before. John notices your hand twist the ring around your finger.

Julian says nothing.

"You said no? Why would you do that?" You slowly walk towards Julian, where he still stands near the window. John feels like he should leave, but there really wasn't an easy way to do that now. "This is the third girl Julian," you continue softly. "Mother and Papa wouldn't set you up with someone awful. They'd find someone who would be there for you, by your side."

Julian scoffs, brushing past you and going to stand at the other side of the room, opposite you, his face contorted with disbelief. "That's what you're focused on? The fact that I said no? Not the fact that your father SOLD you?" he yells suddenly, and John worries someone in the house will wake up and overhear this conversation.

You look as though he'd slapped you. "Don't - don't say it like that." Your voice breaks pathetically, and John has the immediate urge to tell off Julian for talking to you that way. But he knows better. He should stay out of it. In truth, he really shouldn't be present at all.

"How else am I supposed to phrase it?" Julian sneers at you, throwing his arms up. "He sold you like you were property - like a whore he could pimp out to sweeten to pot. Is that better?" he spits out, fully enraged and pacing towards you.

John pushes up from his seat quickly, fully set to calm Julian down and get him away from you. This wasn't the way to do this, even if Julian was telling the truth. He's stopped however, but your hand grasping his wrist. He turns and sees you shake your head.

Julian turns to look at the both of you, his eyes focused on where your hand is wrapped around John's wrist. "What about John?" he asks, his eyes shifting down, away from you. "Thought you wanted to end up with him one day," he says, gesturing at your joined hands.

You let go of John's wrist as though it had scalded you. There's a charged silence ringing in his ears and John cannot believe Julian had brought that up. It had been four long years and you'd both tried very hard to move past it. John's suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. How had they come to this? It should have been about helping you see that maybe Matthew wasn't entirely right - how had his name gotten dragged into it?

Your jaw has dropped as you look at Julian, eyes widened in shock. You let out a breath of disbelief, shaking your head, at a complete loss for words. The three of you did not talk about that, ever. You and Julian especially had never even acknowledged it.

You open your mouth to say something, but John beats you to it. "What the hell, man." He's looking at Julian in complete shock is heart racing - the two of them had never talked about it afterwards save for that one drunken night in Barcelona when Julian had apologized for being selfish and wanting to have his friend all to himself. John had ended up reassuring him that the two of you had made the decision together, and the timing of it all, the different stages of life you had been about to embark on, all would've made things too difficult. Had things not worked out between the two of you due to the circumstances alone - neither one of you could bear to do that to the other. What Julian had done was likely for the best. Julian hadn't remembered any part of the conversation the following morning.

Julian appears slightly ashamed as he is unable to meet both of your eyes, realizing that he'd crossed a line.

You're trying very hard to maintain your composure and John can see the shimmer of tears glazing your eyes. It's quiet for a moment more as he watches you gather your wits about you, your hands shaking ever so slightly, the only sound in the room coming from both your forced controlled breathing and Julian's erratic ones.

"Let me make something perfectly clear to you," you grit out, eyes fiery and blazing at Julian. "You, of all people, do not get to throw that in my face. You made your decision four years ago, and so did we." Your voice is cold and John feels a shiver run through him at a cold fury that isn't even directed fully at him. You look from Julian, to John, who meets your eyes for barely a second, before looking away. You'd both chosen Julian over one another.

Julian looks only at the ground.

What had been the point of Julian saying no to the two of you four years ago if he was going to suddenly be alright with it in the face of you marrying Matthew? However, it seemed as though you didn't even care about that - you'd simply brushed past it already and John is left reeling, thinking through the implications of what both you and Julian had put out there. Julian didn't care. Unfortunately for him, it appeared neither did you.

"If you'd just say yes - " he hears your voice again, through the din in his head that is trying to make sense of everything,  as you carry on, still intent on talking to Julian, intent on ignoring what he'd just brought up as if it meant so little. John isn't sure how you possibly could ignore it - he hasn't been able to think of anything else since, Julian's words echoing over and over in his brain.

"To marrying someone I do not love? For some business deal? Ruin my life for that?" he roars at you snapping out of his silent shame, swiping his hand across one of the end tables and sliding the old lamp off of it. The three of you watch as it crashes to the floor and breaks, emitting a crash. You flinch when it hits the floor.

John turns to you and there are silent tears streaming down your face as you stare at Julian in utter shock. It's gone too far - this whole thing. John feels like a voyeur - like he's intruding on his parents breaking up or something.

"For the family!" you scream, your voice a whispered shout as you're still mindful of how late it is. Far more so than Julian had been. "You do it for the family Julian! I did it for you when I gave you John, because you needed him. You were asked to do something that helps the family, you should've just done it. You don't just run away and ignore all responsibility and obligation. You step up, be a man, and do what's asked of you."

Julian looks at you with disgust coloring his features. "Well excuse me if I have a little more self respect than that," he says, entirely bypassing what you'd said about John as though you had never even said it at all. It was as though he didn't even care - didn't realize - how awful and heartbreaking of a sacrifice he'd forced upon you. And yet, you'd done it - for him.

You look away from him, and John can feel the frustration and anger cascading off of you in waves, tinged by something else he can't quite discern, but he thinks it might be…fear. "How much longer do you expect Papa to let you get away with this? He isn't exactly known for being patient. Sooner or later there will be repercussions. He's been lenient long enough." Your voice is hoarse as you swallow your tears and fury.

You're all aware of your father's reputation - cold, calculating, and merciless. You all know the kind of person Julian was choosing to challenge and while his wrath towards his children had its limits, it had quite a stretch of runway before it reached its end. Julian was playing with fire by continuing on his current path.

Julian appraises you and appears to consider your words, before his eyes land on the large ring adorning your hand, reinvigorating the fight within him. "Then I suppose I'll wait till that day. Until then, I won't just lie down and spread my legs for whomever," he jeers at you.

"Enough." John's finally reached his limit with the entire argument, his jaw clenched tightly and a thunder-struck expression marring the rest of his features as he fully comprehends how far Julian has strayed. "You can't talk to her that way," he states firmly, positioning himself between the two of you.

Julian looks at him, a manic glint in his eyes. A derisive laugh escapes him, bouncing off the walls. "Didn't realize she still did it for you. Isn't twenty one a little old for your tastes?"

"FUCK OFF, Julian." You can scarcely believe him. How could he talk to John like that?

"With pleasure," he scoffs, looking from you, to John, and then turns the knob on the door and slams it shut behind him, leaving just you and John standing in the study by yourselves.

John watches as you pull yourself together. He wants to go to you and hold you and tell you that Julian was just being a dick. But part of him agrees with Julian - especially if he's telling the truth about how it all came together. Part of him also feels the sting of what Julian implied about him despite how untrue it is. So he holds himself apart as the two of you stare at one another in the wake of the deafening silence left behind by Julian's exit.

John watches as you wipe away the remaining tears and bend to gather the broken pieces of the lamp, sweeping away the evidence of Julian's rage. You walk and grab the lamp sitting in the far corner of the room, replacing the broken one. John can do nothing but watch.

"Why did you say yes?" he asks finally, unable to stop himself.

You blink, not having expected that from him and he watches as you bite your lower lip between your teeth, quietly thinking over his question, your fingers twisting the ring around your finger in earnest. Your tongue pokes out and licks the spot your teeth had worried moments earlier. He feels entirely scrutinized under your gaze. With a short exhale, you answer, "Because he asked."

Before he can say anything more, you've followed Julian's example and walked out the door, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the study.

He never did find out what it had been that you'd wanted to talk to him about after dinner. The next morning it was as though nothing had transpired at all. You and Julian weren't speaking, and John found he had very little to say himself.

*------------*

Julian had flown out to Boston the week after you'd left. John had figured the two of you would make up eventually, and he was glad he hadn't been wrong about that, though he and Julian had argued once again about him simply telling you the truth of why he kept turning away set ups with women. Julian was staunchly against it still, even more so now that you'd agreed to marry Matthew and didn't appear to be wavering in your decision at all. The two of them simply didn't address anything else Julian had said, and John decided that was likely for the best.

The holidays had passed uneventfully - he'd spent it mostly with Cece, only seeing you and Julian the day after Christmas when everyone gathered at your parents' home to exchange presents and for everyone to meet baby Amara. He watched as you sat in the large chair in the living room, holding Amara in your hands as she slept, Matthew perched on the arm of the chair. He can't help but smile - you'd be a good mother, even if yours hadn't been.

The call regarding Julian's death had come in mid-February, Dom on the other end telling him that Julian had been victim to a mugging gone wrong. The funeral had been held back in Connecticut, Julian's body shipped back. Your parents had opted for a closed casket, so John was left to remember December 26th - the last time he'd seen his best friend in person.

His eyes searched for you at the funeral, and when he saw you, it was as though you weren't even there. Your father had been the one to stand and speak - he would've thought it would be you. Julian would've preferred that, he was sure. He'd gone through the line of people offering their condolences robotically, inching along behind his father. As he approached, he sees your eyes look up - first at his father, who hugs you quickly, and then at him. He can't move. He's frozen. He sees your lower lip tremble - he hadn't yet seen you shed a single tear - you'd stood stoically by to your parents the entire prior hour and a half that he'd observed you.

It's as though he moves on autopilot, his hand reaching out for yours - it was good that he had, as you had nearly tripped forward into him, your arms wrapped tiredly around his shoulders. He's quick to usher you away, into the back room where Sunday School classes are typically held.

Your body shakes against him in silent sobs as tears cascade down. He's unsure how, but the two of you had ended up on the brightly patterned carpet of the classroom, his legs spread out in front of him and you're situated on his lap as close to his chest as possible as your body is wracked with sobs. He clutches you tightly to him, holding you close and allowing you to fall apart the way you needed to. He'd hold it together for the both of you.

When his mother peaks in to the room, he signals her away. It was likely due to her that no one else bothers the two of you again. You say nothing and neither does he. When you finally calm down, his fingers brush away the remaining tears on your face and he feels you reach up and do the same to him. He hadn't realized he'd cried as well.

He helps you up and the two of you walk out. He watches as you approach Matthew, who wraps an arm around your shoulder and looks at him with what could almost be classified as gratitude. Matthew wasn't equipped to deal with this.

*------------*

He hears you'd been in an accident only a month or so afterwards. He's in the middle of a deposition and unable to go in person. He hears from his mother that you'd gone through some surgery but were otherwise alright. There was something in her voice that gave him some pause, but he hadn't had the time to press further.

He sent a bouquet of dahlias along with a Get Well Soon card.

*------------*

You're set to graduate and he's not sure if he should go. His father had asked him over a few weeks prior and told him that Julian's death hadn't been accidental. He didn't know what to believe anymore.

He doesn't go. He's not quite ready to see you again yet.

Julian was dead. What was there really to do?

*------------*

"So eventually, the guy calms down enough after I explain that the fire alarm on the gallery wall wasn't an art piece and not for sale, but only after he made poor Lucille cry, can you believe it?"

John laughs, shaking his head. "Lucille's easy to make cry though, you have to admit." he says, handing Cece the glass of wine he'd just poured.

She laughs, and is about to launch into another story, as the doorbell rings. "I'll get it," she says, leaving him in the kitchen to finish loading the dishwasher.

A minute or so later, he hears footsteps and turns to see Cece, followed by you. He hadn't seen you since Julian's funeral, and there you stood in his kitchen, entirely soaked from the rain outside, having dripped water on the floors on your way in.

"Y/N said she needed to speak with you," Cece supplies, breaking him out of the stupor his brain had entered at the sight of you. "I think I'm going to head out, let the two of you talk."

John simply nods, not thinking to ask her to stay or even thank her. The two of you stare at one another, and he finds himself entirely uncomfortable being alone with you, for the very first time.

"Let me grab you a towel," he manages, indicating you towards the couch in the living room. He walks to the linens cabinet in the back and by the time he returns, you've shed your jacket and are facing away from him in a light tank top, revealing your shoulders and a large fading bruise off to one side.

He wordlessly hands you the towel and watches as you squeeze the water out of your hair, wet tendrils clinging to the side of your face. You still haven't spoken a single word and he finds himself at a loss to say much of anything. He knows you graduated a couple of weeks prior and he knows his father had attended, not wanting to miss his god daughter's graduation ceremony. He wonders briefly if his father had decided to enlighten you as to the true nature of Julian's death, and comes to the conclusion that he had. Why else would you be there?

"How'd that happen?" he asks, breaking the silence as you had turned away from him to slip out of your boots, indicating towards the bruise he'd seen.

You look over your shoulder at him with your eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't worry about it." you reply, turning around and holding up your hand, showing him your empty ring finger. "Waited till Singapore was a done deal, and I ended it."

John lets out a deep breath of disbelief. Matthew had hurt you so much that you had a bruise traversing the length of your upper back. What the hell had he done to you? He can feel the rage and surge of protectiveness that he typically feels around you, storming in his head, and as though you could sense his shift, you place a feather light touch to his arm. "It's alright. I'm fine. Ricky already broke his nose."

That doesn't cause him to worry any less whatsoever. Things had been so bad that Ricky had broken the bastard's nose. A rogue snort escapes him regardless, as he tries to calm himself. Now wasn't the time to get riled up about Matthew - especially if he was history. "Always did like that Ricky kid," he says instead, in an attempt to not slip back into silence. The silence had been wildly uncomfortable and now that it had been broken, he was intent on keeping it that way.

You're toweling off your wet hair as you watch him, your eyes appraising him and then turning to look around at his place. He saw his loft through your eyes - the exposed brick and open floorplan. His bed off to the other side, sheets still rumpled from when Cece had been over. It had been his attempt to tone down his lifestyle - girls got odd ideas when he'd take them back to the company owned apartment he'd stayed in the first couple of months after his internship wrapped with McGuire.

"Really bought into the whole Brooklyn hipster thing, didn't you?" you say, your tone colored with a hint of humor he hadn't expected.

John lets out a half laugh, knowing it wasn't quite your taste. Whatever had brought you to his door despite the pouring rain outside seemed far away at the moment.

"You want something to drink? Eat?" he asks, gesturing you over to the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of water and sets it on the counter for you.

You follow, hopping onto the island as he busies himself with putting the dishes away again, knowing you'll talk once you're ready. It's quiet for a couple of minutes - the only sounds coming from the rain outside and the movement from him working his way through the rest of the load. He looks outside, feeling a small bit of guilt for letting Cece leave in this weather. He'd have to make it up to her later.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask finally, as he puts the final plate in and shuts the dishwasher.

The question finally vocalized was far less angry than anticipated. He’d expected fury and rage raining down upon him for keeping the truth from you. He’d expected having to beg for your forgiveness. This quiet line of questioning felt alarmingly wrong to him. John turns, leaning against the opposite counter, his shoulders hunched together, arms crossed in front of his chest. You're still seated on the island, legs dangling, palms pressed into the granite, knuckles tensed around the edge. He looks up to meet your eyes and his voice catches as he does - you've dropped the veil you'd worn when you first arrived, revealing the unbridled pain underneath. Glassy eyes follow his, searching for some sort of answer - some explanation that would help make sense of your world that had been turned upside down.

"I -," he sighs deep, trying to gather his thoughts all together but they keep slipping out of his hands like sand. "I didn't think you'd - you'd believe me or what good it would do," he manages out, unable to look up at you, instead settling for fixing his gaze to where Matthew's ring used to sit. There was still a white ring there, the surrounding skin a couple of shades darker.

You're silent in the face of his confession. He hadn't wanted to be the one to turn your life upside down. He hadn't wanted to be the reason you questioned everything. He should've. He knows that. He'd been a coward, running away from it all. Unwilling to shoulder the responsibility of the fall out. He can't help but feel like he's joined the list of men who have completely let you down.

“Did you know - did you always know ab - about Julian?” you ask, eyes downcast as you struggle to put your question into words.

John can imagine the hurt you must’ve felt when you finally learned Julian’s life long secret. How that must have eaten away at you, made you question what you’d done to frighten Julian into never telling you. How many puzzle pieces must have fallen together - the fact that Julian never once brought home a girl, how he never once expressed interest in anyone openly, every refusal to marry. He knows how your fight with Julian must haunt you now - knowing the full context of his actions. Agreeing to marry a woman your parents set him up with - any woman - would have killed his spirit entirely.

“Yeah, I did,” he admits, meeting your eyes as he does.

You let out a breath and he sees your shoulders slump as you look away from him, trying to hide the tears in your eyes from him. You were never quite that good at hiding things from him, however. Your lips part as though you wish to say something or ask something, but appear to think better of it, shaking your head as you do. John’s uncertain where this hesitation in you is coming from. There should be a barrage of questions being hurled at him right now - not the two questions he’s gotten so far. Nothing about this feels right to him.

Your hair has started to curl slightly as it dries, forming waves around your face, and he's tempted to push the hair behind your ears, out of your face because he knows how that bothers you.

"What now?" he asks, unable to linger in the silence any longer.

You shake your head as you look at him, releasing a long held sigh. "I have no idea. I cashed out the trust fund and deferred law school. By now Matthew must've told them that I ended things. I haven't heard anything from anyone." The lack of response must be killing you, he knows. Perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He nods. Letting Singapore go through uninterrupted probably helped - it would buy you time if nothing else. He doubts your father thinks you know the truth about Julian. More than likely, it'll be chalked up to nerves or rebellion - maybe even grief.

You hop off of the island, landing right in front of him and he resists the urge to reach out and steady you on your feet. "Thank you. I should go. Tell Cece I'm sorry for interrupting," you say, throwing a half apologetic smile his way over your shoulder.

You walk back to the couch, and he follows, watching you lean down and pull your shoes back on.

His brow scrunches up in concern. You were leaving already? "Where are you going to go?" he asks, watching you apprehensively. That was it? Why even bother coming then?

"Not sure yet. I'll see you around," you reply over your shoulder, shrugging your jacket back on.

With that, you're gone as quickly as you came, and he's left feeling off kilter, staring around his apartment, wondering if you'd been some sort of hallucination. A fever dream borne of a guilty mind that hadn’t felt at peace in a very long time.

*------------*

He didn't hear from you again for a couple of months. The next he even heard of you was in the gossip magazines that Cece had brought over to his apartment to read on Sunday mornings while he cooked them both breakfast. She showed him photographs of you wearing skimpy dresses, escorted by pretty boy model types at every club in the city.

Through the grapevine - and he was guilty of using Cece to get the inside track on everything - he finds out that you'd moved into an apartment in the Upper East Side and had made it your goal to be the most notorious party girl the city's ever seen. It's in complete contrast to the low profile you typically keep and he sees it for what it is - a bizarre attempt at drawing attention to yourself. To what end, he could only guess at.

Another month in, and he gets a drunken call from you, providing him the name of some pub that is decidedly low brow - nothing like the clubs and speakeasies you're known to haunt. He arrives to find you seated at the bar, your short dress hiked up past the point of decency, nearly passed out. He finds out where you live and helps you to your place, depositing you on your couch. The guys at the front desk had him in their system already it seemed, and he'd been waved up rather quickly as he carried your limp form.

He leaves you there as he has work the following morning, and taking care of twenty two year old socialites isn't something he has the time or energy to do, even if it is you. It's as though he can feel himself being sucked into your tornado and he's digging his heels in, determined to stay away. He knows that if he gives in, that'll be it. You'll take over his life, his breath, his soul all over again and it had taken far too much out of him to escape the first time.

*------------*

Cece asks him if he's spoken to you recently. Apparently, you've been getting somewhat of a reputation. She heard from her contacts in the art world that you'd been frequenting some pill parties and it was only a matter of time before the tabloids got a hold of it.

There's a growing pit in his stomach anytime you come up, anytime he sees your face on the cover of a paper as he buys coffee, anytime something small reminds him of you. You're both in Manhattan every day. You're never more than a dozen miles away from him. Yet, what's he supposed to do really? He's not your caretaker. You're an adult. The worst thing in the world had happened and you're coping with it just as he had coped with it.

Despite that, he knows this isn't really you - not how you typically cope. You're entirely mission oriented and your way of dealing with things usually comes in the form of finding something new to conquer, something new to be good at, something new to distract yourself with. This is the first time he's seen you latch onto something destructive just to keep going on.

*------------*

"Do you think it hurt, when he died?"

John blinks, still trying to make sense of what was going on. He had been woken by the shrill ringtone he had set just for you, to make sure he'd never miss a call, and as his eyes settle on the clock on the nightstand, he realizes that it's past three in the morning. His heart is beating really fast, having been startled awake harshly and his brain struggles to close the gap between dreams and reality.

"What?"

"Julian, when he died. Do you think it was fast? Was it painless? Or do you think it was drawn out? Knowing Papa, I feel like he would've drawn it out. Don't you?"

He feels the hair on the back of his neck stand at your voice and your words. At what they're implying. There’s a nearly hauntingly playful quality to your voice that gives him chills.

"Where are you?" he asks, his heart thudding in his chest still, your words ringing in his ears, and his stomach clenching over and over doing somersaults. Something's wrong. He can feel it in his bones. Something is very wrong.

"Home."

"Stay there. I'm coming over."

It's nearly twelve miles from Brooklyn to the Upper East Side and on a normal day at three in the morning it would take twenty two minutes to get there. John makes it in twelve. He leaves his bike parked right in front, despite the doorman's protests, tossing the keys to him on his way in. If he cared so much, then he could move it.

His blood runs cold when he sees you lying on the floor, pills spilling out of the bottle that lies limp in your hand. You're cold when he reaches you, his hands trembling as he feels for a pulse, before scooping you up and taking you to the shower and placing you under the stream. He forces a couple of fingers down your throat, doing his best to force the pills up, unsure how many you'd taken by the time he arrived. He feels like he's living every nightmare come to life.

It's early morning by the time you're fully conscious, lying in the tub as he sits at the edge, watching over you. He'd had a few hours to himself to just watch you and think. Things couldn't go on the way they had been. He had to do something, or the next time he wouldn't get there in time.

He sees you stir and orders you to clean up and meet him outside, his voice unrecognizable to even himself. By the time you emerge, you'd showered and wet hair clumps around your head. You're wearing his old law school hoodie, and he feels a twinge of something, despite knowing you'd done it on purpose.

He places a plate of toast in front of you. You didn't keep much in the apartment besides bottles of chilled champagne and that really wasn't what he was going to serve at six thirty in the morning to the girl who had tried to overdose on pills the night before.

"We're going to take him down," he announced, as you munch on the toast and look at him cautiously.

Your eyes flash at him and you continue to chew, buying yourself time to respond. Finally you swallow and look up at him. "We?"

"Yes. We are not doing a repeat of last night. Ever. So get that clear in your head." His voice is firm and his jaw clenched as he remembers the sight of you lying on the floor only a few hours ago.

You're quiet, looking away from him and he can see the faintest hint of color in your cheeks and he hears you sniffle quietly.

"You scared me last night." His voice is entirely controlled, only the tremor in his hand giving away how entirely affected he is by the past few hours of terror he'd lived through.

Your voice is soft when you speak, catching in your throat when you do. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I don't want sorry. I want you to promise me that it won't happen again," he begs, reaching across and tucking the hair that had fallen into your face back behind your ear.

"I miss him." You look up at him and suddenly he's reminded of the eighteen year old who had snuck into his room after graduation - entirely vulnerable, entirely young, standing at the precipice of the unknown.

John sighs. "Me too. But that doesn't mean - it doesn't mean we give up."

You nod, standing up and walking around the counter to him, wrapping your arms tight around his waist. "So what're we going to do?" you ask, looking up at him.

*------------*

You'd just left his parents' home after having dinner with the three of them, followed by drinks in the study with his father, his mother choosing to retire to bed early.

The three of you had been working together on how to dismantle your father from the inside, and already he'd seen a big change in you. It wasn't how you'd been before, but it was better than it had been recently, and he'd take that win for now.

"You should know," his father discloses, clearing his desk of the files he'd taken out to share with the two of you, "when she turned eighteen, I asked her father about her and you - we all saw the way you look at her. I thought it would be nice to unite our families as one.”

John looks at his father with some amount of surprise. He hadn't known that - that he'd approached your father for your hand.

"Don't look so surprised son. You're not nearly as subtle as you like to think you are. Her father wasn't surprised either. I imagine he ensured it didn't happen regardless. The Hawthornes were not politically useful to him and he needed to keep her available." There's a slight bitter quality to his father's voice.

John nods, a stuttered breath escaping him. He wonders what your father had said to Julian in order to get him to interfere the way he had. He wonders if you knew.

"You need to be careful, son. Don't fall for her again," his father warns. John doesn't know how to break it to him - it was already far too late for that.

*------------*

John's woken up at eight in the morning on a Sunday with a knock on his door. Bleary eyed, he goes to open it, only to have a clipboard shoved in his face. A delivery man is standing here, urging him to sign for a package.

"It's downstairs. Can't bring it here. Won't fit."

What kind of a package was that big that it wouldn't fit in the elevator? He follows the man downstairs, who leads him to a truck, from the back of which a motorcycle is rolled off.

John stands there, blinking, unsure what to make of it all. Right as the delivery man hands him the keys, a cab pulls up, and out you step, looking far more dressed up and cheery than anyone should that early in the morning.

"Oh good it's here," you exclaim, beaming at him.

"What's going on?" he asks, taking in your appearance - the leather jacket and the combat boots. You looked like you were playing a biker chick for Halloween.

"I had Julian's bike shipped over," you explain, your eyes taking in his shirtless appearance and skimming over the grey sweatpants he had worn to bed. "You're going to teach me how to ride it."

He raises an eyebrow. "I am?"

"Yes. Now go put on a shirt. When do you even have time to do all that?" you ask, waving your hands in the general direction of his chest and abs, a flirty smile on your face that makes him blush ever so slightly. "Thought you were a lawyer."

John could feel a migraine coming on as he shivers from the cold. There really was no talking you out of this or reasoning to do this at a more humane hour. Rolling his eyes, he tosses you the keys before going upstairs to change.

*------------*

It had been a heart attack from nowhere. He'd gotten a call from his mother in the dead of night, hysterically screaming for him. Apparently you'd gotten the same call, as you'd arrived at the hospital before even he did. You held his mother together while the doctor spoke to him. It had been quick, relatively painless as far as death goes.

Everyone had come for the funeral, and from the corner of his eye he saw you greeting both of your parents as though nothing had happened. Your father's arm around your waist fills him with disgust, leaving him wondering how you could stand his touch after knowing everything that you did.

The funeral and wake afterwards seem to stretch on forever and all he wants is to be away from all the people.

It's late and most everyone had left, his mother catered to by her sisters - he'd needed a breather. He'd ended up in his childhood bedroom - surrounded by his soccer trophies, swimming medals, debate gavels - a shrine his mother had maintained to him and his achievements.

"Hey."

He turns at the sound of your softly hesitant voice as you stand at the door. You're still wearing the black dress you'd worn earlier in the day, a delicate strand of pearls wrapped tightly around your neck. He recognizes it as a piece his father had gifted you for one of your birthdays when you were younger, and he smiles at the memory of everyone surrounding you while you wore a tiara and blew out candles.

"Hey, come on in Cap."

You smile slightly at his use of the moniker, and walk in, carefully shutting the door behind you. The bed shifts as you come and sit by him, your hand reaching for his. He feels a streak of warmth go through him - the first bit of warmth he's felt since he saw his mother's crying face at the hospital.

"He's gone," he whispers, turning towards you. His father was gone. He's an adult, and this was a part of life, but he wasn't even thirty years old yet. Parents weren't supposed to die when you're that young. They're supposed to be there when you get married, when you have kids. His father would never meet his children.

You squeeze his hand, bringing his head down to your shoulder as you hold him. Tears won't come. He didn't think he was capable - not yet at least. Right now it was enough to feel something - anything.

He takes another deep breath and as he turns his head, he catches your worried look. His eyes go from yours to your lips and back again and before he knows it, he's leaned in. You let him. He pulls away, set to apologize, but when he tries to, your lips cover his again. A shuddered breath traverses through the both of you as he lowers you to the navy blue sheets that cover the bed, your light hands traveling from his face to his hair, to his arms - leaving sparks of sensation everywhere they go. He acts on pure instinct, the two of you careful to keep quiet as his hands roam, touching skin and drawing noises, whose mere imagination had maintained permanent residence in his dreams for years.

*------------*

It had been two weeks since his father's funeral before he sees you again by himself. He'd spent a large amount of that time with his mother, helping her pack up his father's things and sort through the will. You’d been there with her whenever he couldn’t be.

He kept replaying that night over and over again in his head. It shouldn't have happened like that. The two of you - finally - it should've been perfect. Instead it had been coated with grief and hurt - a desire to provide comfort and years of pent up longing that should've exploded but instead simmered into a low fizzle. It had still been what he had needed. It just hadn't been what you needed, and he couldn't help but feel guilty for that, as he remembers you giving him a half hearted smile and adjusting your clothes before heading back downstairs.

"They turned me down," you complain as he opens the door to you.

He lets you walk in and you hand him a piece of paper that he reads twice before it fully clicks. "The CIA rejected you?" he asks incredulously.

"Yeah, can you believe it?" You scoff, rolling your eyes, entitlement wafting off of you.

You seem entirely put out as you help yourself to the scotch he'd been drinking and he can't help but laugh a bit. "You've never been rejected before, have you? Princess has never not gotten what she wants." He knows you haven't - Harvard undergrad, accepted to Harvard Law School, top of your class and winning every single thing you'd ever set out for.

You shake your head at his somewhat obvious mockery and make yourself comfortable on his couch next to him, not responding as you focus instead on drinking. It was still odd seeing you drinking real liquor - like you'd actually grown up. Ruefully, you reply, "I've never really gotten what I want."

He's left to ponder that response while you drink some more.

"So I suppose I'll be going to my safety school at the FBI," you sigh after a few minutes, reaching across his lap for the remote. "I feel like I'm going to Columbia or something," you joke, trying to shake it off.

"Hey!"

You laugh as you flick on the news, settling into his side. He's glad you're still casually comfortable together. There had been a part of him that had worried that things would be different afterwards, so it was good to see that you haven't deviated from your normal treatment of him. He watches you as your eyes are trained on the TV anchor, your face scrunching up with every sip of the scotch. You're still not used to the taste or the burn, even if you like to pretend to enjoy it now.

"Let me make it up to you."

You turn up to look at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Last time,” he explains, swallowing a breath that threatens to burst out of him. “It shouldn't have been like that. You didn't - you didn't finish. Let me make it up to you."

You chuckle dismissively, patting his thigh with your hand. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" he presses. He's had a taste of you. He's not ready to just let it go. Let you go.

You're quiet for a second, before you push up from the couch. He follows.

"Because it won't be what you think it will - what you want it to be. It won't be us how it should've been,” you say, your voice low and colored with sadness, fingers fretting with the edge of your top, and eyes unable to meet his.

The two of you stand in the middle of the loft, the draft chilling the air around you. Your words linger in the air, swirling around the two of you.

"What do you mean?" he asks, reaching out for you. The two of you consciously or unconsciously moving around the space, closer and closer to the bed.

You bite your lip, as though unsure of how to say it. How to say it in a way that will resonate with him. "I am not the nine year old that said I was going to marry you one day, John," you clarify, a sad smile gracing your face as you look up at him. "I'm not the fifteen year old that begged you to be my first kiss. I'm not the eighteen year old that thought I'd have a beautiful life with you. Those girls are dead. I can't be who you want me to be."

John feels his heart sink at your declaration, despite knowing you're right. It's not the same as it once had been. The last time he was with you was proof enough of that. And yet, he doesn't want the time after his father's funeral to be it - not after everything. He couldn't quite bear it to leave it at that. Not if there was a chance.

"Be you then. Let me be whoever you need me to be."

You eye him carefully, surprised at his persistence. The two of you have managed to maneuver yourselves towards the other side of the loft, near his bed, and he watches apprehensively as you walk slowly closer to him, an odd glint in your eye. He finds himself instinctively backing up as you approach, until the back of his legs hit the bedframe.

"You sure about that?" you ask, and before he can catch a breath, your hands have come up and shoved against his chest, pushing him to the bed. He bounces on the mattress ever so slightly, his eyes widened in surprise as you quickly straddle him, your face oh so close to his. "Is this okay?" you appraise him, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders to maintain your balance.

He nods, moving forward and capturing your lips. He only manages to feel in control for a second, before it’s swept away from him, your fingers harshly pulling at his hair, drawing a groan from him as he finds himself bucking up towards you. It's all fast, hard - nothing like he'd imagined it would be like with you. However, it's only afterwards, as you get out of bed and pull your clothes on to leave, that he realizes exactly how different it is. He finds himself unable to say anything. After all, you'd warned him. He watches you get fully dressed and slip out the door with only a half smile and wave. Never before has he felt so...used.

The next morning, he sees the angry red scratch marks clawed into his back and the bruises left on the rest of him - that’s when it fully sinks in. You're not you.

It happens a couple more times before he starts giving as good as he's getting, and for a second you're surprised. Shockingly, instead of being discouraged, it only serves to spur you further.

Things continue in the same way throughout your training at the FBI. You tell him not to wait. That you aren't exclusive and he should date. After all, you're only back in the city around once a month and he never comes to DC. You always arrive on Julian's old motorcycle. You never spend the night. He tries dating but it's hard to want to become exclusive with other women, knowing that you'll be back again in a couple of weeks. His father’s words loom in his head constantly on the nights he lies awake wondering how you’re doing, if you’re alright, if you’re thinking of him too.

He knows he has to wait. He has to wait to tell you until everything is done and the dust settles. There’s a ring with your name on it sitting in his mother’s jewelry box. He just has to ride this out, until you’re you again.

*------------*

You'd accepted a spot on the BAU. He'd thought you'd take the offer in White Collar or something else that was based out of the New York field office at least. However, you said you liked DC and that you liked this one team in particular, and John found himself confused. The plan was really just to get access via the FBI - who cares which team it was on.

You don't see him the first few months you're on this new team. It seems you're always traveling and your phone calls are few and far in between. He starts taking on more than his fair share of the billing hours, working sixteen hour days every day. It won’t be long until he’s made partner - youngest partner in the firm’s history.

He gets far too happy when you tell him you're coming back to New York for the holidays, and ask to spend them with him. He's nearly giddy with excitement. He gets the babka from the Jewish deli you like and he grabs a couple of bottles of champagne to ring in the new year with.

You arrive, a large smile on your face, your nose red from the chill and a cute little beanie on top of your head. You laugh and leap into his arms immediately and you kiss him and he forgets how to breathe. You're in his arms and you're smiling and you're kissing him without it leading to sex and for the first time in two years he feels a surge of hope flowing through him. That's my baby.

You tell him about the team and how much you've been learning, as the two of you settle into eating dinner together. It's so nice to hear you excited about something - it reminds him of when you first started at Harvard and the two of you were still maintaining a strong friendship despite putting your relationship on the back burner. All the late night phone calls where he'd fall asleep to the sound of you talking about your history and art classes, everything you were learning in criminology and psychology and he'd just hum and listen, taking it all in. At the time, he'd been worried that you were going to work yourself to the bone doing a triple major and a minor, but you hadn't been able to decide what you wanted to do and you were intent on doing it all. It’s that similar charged passion now as you tell him about the latest case. You deal with serial killers every day and it isn’t something he’d have ever thought you’d do. You tell him about your team and that you’ve made friends, you talk about some kid’s birthday party and ask his advice on a gift, and there is this light in your eyes, this hopeful softness to your smile and he can see every possibility with you.

After dinner, the two of you sit on the couch as he fills you in on his most recent trial that he's been working, glasses of scotch in hand. He's a little surprised again when you kiss him softly, completely unlike the past year or so that you two have been intimate. He can't help but escalate it, pulling you into his lap. This was it. This was how it was always meant to be. You let him carry you to the bed and slowly lower you, going down and down as he works his way down your body. Every touch inciting a soft moan from you, every moan in turn bolstering him onward. He's not sure what changed, but you let him be with you the way he's wanted to be with you forever. Your fingers wrap around his neck, pulling him close after you both finish, leaving him buried within you. He feels your lips ghost over his forehead, fingers running through his hair. You make no move to leave.

The sun streams in through the windows, waking him the next morning. He doesn't feel you next to him, and for a second he panics and thinks you'd snuck out in the middle of the night, having realized your mistake. You don’t stay the night. Ever. You barely even linger afterwards. But then he sees you standing by the window at the kitchen, wearing his shirt and some socks to protect from the chill, a mug of coffee in your hand. His heart flutters at the sight.

He gets up, slipping on a pair of pajama pants, before joining you at the window, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and tucking his head onto your shoulder. It's only when he tries to kiss you that he notices your glossy eyes holding unshed tears.

"Hey Cap," he says softly to you, turning your face towards him gently. "What's wrong?"

You're worrying your bottom lip between your teeth and your hand, the one that isn't clutching the mug tightly is bunched into the shirt you're wearing, wrinkling the material. "I'm sorry," you manage to breathe out. "I am so sorry for all of this."

John feels his breath start to swell in concern, and he rubs his hands up and down your arms soothingly. "What're you sorry about?" Everything was finally good. What could there possibly be to be sorry about?

You swallow back a sob. "Doing this job, I see all these people every day who have been messed up by their fathers. Day in and day out, that's all I see. People trying to make sense of the world in one way or another because of how much their parents screwed them up. And you know what? A lot of these people hurt other people because of how much they've been hurt. It sickens me to relate to them - these sickos, pedophiles, and murderers and I think to myself, wow, that could easily be me if I let my father continue to get to me. If I keep going down this path where all I'm doing is basing everything around revenge and taking him down. My life is all consumingly him and I want it to not be."

John nods understandingly, as you continue to let him hold you. The pain in your voice causes his heart to clench.

"I don't like those people and I don't want to be them. I have a chance to stop them. Do something good. Feel clean for once in my life."

"If that's what you want, then alright,” he reassures you. Of course you’d do whatever was best for you - you should know that he would always do what was best for you. “But why are you apologizing to me?"

"Because - because I don't think I can do this, if I'm reminded of Julian everyday,” you sob. “I don't want to forget him, but - but I'm also not strong enough to think about him every single day and be reminded of what happened to him all the time. I want a chance to get out.”

He looks at you, trying to read between the lines of what you’re saying, and the realization dawns on him. The softness, the apologies - the way you’d let him hold you and have you wholly for the first time. The fact that you’d stayed. You were trying to say goodbye.

He can feel the mounting panic that he tries to quell. You’ve obviously thought this through, that much is clear. You’re trying to do good, to be good, to shed the shadow of your father and he can’t fault you for that in any way. It’s the right thing to do, and he knows it. He’d thrown you a life raft the day he’d found you passed out on your living room floor, and he’d started to help you paddle towards shore. He hadn’t cared what land the two of you would arrive at - the only goal being arriving on solid ground at all.

You look at him mournfully and take in a shuddered breath that he can feel rush through you as you’re still pressed against him. You stand in the cage of his arms, never once making an attempt to move away. “John, if you ask me to stay, I will,” you whisper nervously, your eyes meeting his, letting him see everything. “But, I am begging you, please don't. Don't ask me to stay. I have a shot at doing something good - something that has nothing to do with my father. Doing this job makes me feel like I'm making amends and undoing some of the bad that exists in the world. I'm starting to feel clean again. But I don't think I can do that if I have one foot in this world and - "

"And you can't do that if I'm around. Because I'm part of it. I'm part of this world."

You nod, taking another deep breath as the tears continue to fall. Down your face and his.  

"I love you." He can't help but say it. He needs to. He needs you to know, if only once.

You smile despite the tears, reaching up to cup his cheek and he leans into it and he leans into you. "I know. But I don't think that's good for either one of us anymore. I used to. But I think the two of us are too broken in the same ways. We've both been on the outskirts of the same life and we're scarred by the same darkness. All of our jagged pieces, they fit so well together. But I'm starting to think that kind of love isn't the good kind. I don't really want jagged pieces anymore. I don't want to have to have someone fit me in order to round out my edges. I want to be whole all on my own. I feel like we both need that. We both deserve that - and I can’t give it to you.”

When you said it like that, how could he even attempt to disagree.

He releases the breath he’s been holding for the past while. Your arms are still wrapped around his waist, and he lets you - he lets you be his solace. He wraps his arms tightly around your back, pulling you into him, as close as he possibly can, head bent and resting on your shoulder.

“What if I never love anyone like this again?” he asks, his words a mumble against your skin. You’re the person he talks to about things like this.

You shift, moving your head back to rest against the brick walls, bringing both arms up, holding his face gently with both hands. “You won’t,” you tell him tenderly, tilting your head ever so slightly as your eyes meet his. “You’ll love them differently. But that doesn't mean that it won't be real or deep or any less meaningful - just different. Hopefully, with any luck, it’ll be better. Because you deserve the world, John.”

You rest your forehead to his and he lets himself bask in the feeling of you - you all around him, you everywhere, you in his arms.

He prays with all his might, that you find what you’re looking for.

*------------*

The tattoos had been his idea. He wanted something to always remember Julian by. But he was also a selfish man - he needed a tether - something to tie you to him forever.

You part ways outside the tattoo parlor, one of the bottles of champagne that he'd bought in your bag. He goes home alone.

You ride the bike back to DC and pop open the bottle of champagne on New Year's Eve all by yourself, drinking to a fresh start.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Deuxième Omega: Part II

Summary: Jensen is not dealing well with his unexpected divorce and before the ink is even dry, he is pushed into another union with a complete stranger.

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Omega!OFC

Word Count: 2859

Warnings: A/B/O, angst, angry Jensen, cursing, illness, arranged marriage, divorces, talk of Alpha dominance over Omega, suspected eating disorder, past abuses, vehicle drama

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get this part out, my antique laptop decided to eat over 2,000 words and have had to piece back together from memory so hopefully it makes sense.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles family. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. 

Part I

*Supernatural doesn’t end in season 15 and some dates/events have been altered to fit the story.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

The Next Day

Jensen waves his hand around again at that buzzing insect driving him crazy. He’s finally conscious enough to recognize the sound, it wasn’t a bug but his phone vibrating incessantly. Picking his head up and instantly regretting it starts patting around the bed for his phone.

“lo...”

“Are you still drunk?” A deep, honey-whiskey and way too damn loud for the morning voice barked at him.

“Jared?”

“No, fucking Misha.”

“Too early for your shit Jay...”

“Dude, it’s three-thirty in the afternoon.”

“WHAT!” Jensen yells sitting up too fast, the pain ricocheting throughout his head sends him flying off the bed, barely making it to the toilet before regurgitating everything he ingested last night. The toilet automatically flushes as he sits back against the bathtub groaning like a dying water buffalo.

“Really wish you'd hung up before sharing that,” Jared quips in a queasy voice, “I’m gonna regret this but Face Time me.”

Jensen cracked his eyes open enough to locate the button and tapping it Jared appears dressed in his running gear with a bandana holding his hair back. “No offense but you look like hammered shit. I was gonna call earlier but Gen threatened to have my left nut if I did.”

Jensen grunts and closes his eyes against the bright outdoor light emanating from the phone.

“Are you…” Jensen tunes him out for a minute then,“ ‘cause there’s something you need to know about, it’s really bad.”

He opens his eyes and it’s worse than he could have imagined going by the expression on Jared’s face.

“One of your clan sold you out, got it all on cellphone video, social media’s blowing up. Hell, even Fox News Channel picked it up.”

Jensen listens to the description of his expressions at the surprise traditional ceremony, his drunken stumbling around the reception with his new wife submissively following, his scoffing at the speeches during the reception and ignoring his silent, veil wife sitting next to him.

“My favorite bit was Alan and Josh carrying you out of the can.”

Jared's expression turned serious, “People are talking, we can't cover for you anymore. I got a text from higher ups cause no one could get hold of you for obvious reasons. PR’s gotta get ahead of this.”

“I’m a fuckup.”

“Yeah but we still love you. So, what's her name?”

Jensen licked his lips, biting the bottom one.

“Please tell me you know her name.”

“I..I don't even know what she looks like Jay.”

Jared ran his hand over his mouth, “The first thing you do is get up, take a shower and brush your goddamn teeth. Then you apologize, fucking supplicate yourself, to your new wife..unless you’ve already decided to put her aside.”

Jensen's head snapped up unbelieving that his friend, the man who was his brother in every way except blood, could think that of him.

“You really believe I could do that?”

Jared smiled, “No, you're too good of a man, an Alpha, to do that. I want you to remember one thing, in all this, she’s not the one who screwed you over.”

***

Jensen stepped out the shower forgoing shaving since the show was on a short break. He wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at this haggard expression and developing beer gut. I’ve got to get back on my exercise routine. Makeup and wardrobe could only mask so much.

Reaching for his bath kit he knocked a hand towel off the counter. Bending over to retrieve it he noticed a shoe with netting in the wastebasket. Pulling it out he saw a brown smear inside one of the heels, remembering how much trouble she had with them last night and made a mental note to inquire about her feet.

Washing his hands and searching through his kit realizing he’d forgotten his toothbrush. Opening on the cabinets he located the complementary ones. As he’s brushing Jensen sees another brush sitting in a glass by the other sink with a neatly folded hand towel and hanging washcloth.

Huh, she must have forgotten hers too.

Tossing his kit bag in the suitcase he dressed in a pair of well worn jeans and a T-shirt. Quietly entering the common area the curtains set open just enough for him to see her curled up on the couch, still in her wedding dress, asleep. He walked over to check on her when a knock at the door made her bolt upright.

“It's room service, I asked them to text so not to wake you.” He answered the door and had a brief word with the waiter who apologized, the ticket didn’t say not to knock. They deposited a coffee decanter, several covered dishes, bottles of water and left taking the cart with them.

Jensen sat down and before he could ask how she took her coffee, his wife scrambled off the couch and was kneeling at his feet, head bowed and hands folded in her lap.

“What are you doing?” He asked incredulously, having never seen anyone do this before.

“Awaiting you instructions Alpha.”

“Instruc...get up!” He gripped her upper arm, shocked at how far his fingers wrapped around it and helped her to the other chair. Sitting back down Jensen got his first look at his new wife.

Sleep tousled, dark blonde hair frame cheekbones overly prominent for the shape of her face, wide set eyes a blue-grey color with amber rings around the pupils. Her lips were full, the bottom lip slightly off center. She was not the Hollywood standard of beauty he was used to, and if compared to them, she’d only be considered moderately pretty.

“I was only doing what is expected…”

“Kneeling at my feet like an obedient dog!” He barked as she said, “..of the Omega.”

“What’s expected?”

“In the book..”

“Please look at me when speaking.” She raises her eyes but doesn’t meet his, “..it states that the Omega is subservient and the act of humbling ourselves shows respect for the Alpha, as is their due.’

Jensen sat back shocked, running both of his hands through his still damp hair, making it stand up to resemble a hedgehog. He was in over his head and, for one of the few times in his life, didn’t know what to do and the first person he would have turned to for advice had banned all communication.

He took a deep breath to refocus and leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs to look her in the eye, “I need you to forget what I said last night. I..I’m angry, feels like I..we..were ambushed by this situation. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I’m sincerely sorry.”

“I don’t understand, are you apologizing to me?”

“It’s what people do when they’ve done something wrong and what I did was unforgivable. I want to make it up to you if you’ll let me and hopefully we can make a go of this.”

She looked at him dubiously but nodded once.

***

Jensen finished the last dregs of his coffee while packing, having decided to head back to Austin tonight. Clif had texted him he was ready whenever they were.

Sitting down on the bed he listened to the running shower and reaching his phone picked it up to start recording a video message.

He apologized for his atrocious behavior the last two years, asking the fans not to take it out on the show, this was all on him. To his coworkers for having to cover for him, they should have never been put in that position and if he had better character they wouldn’t have had too.

He next apologized to his family for his inexcusable behavior last night, which should have stayed private within their clan, and fully accepted his banishment by the clan leader, his father, for however long he deemed fit.

He lastly apologized to his new wife, they were irrecoverably tied together and he’d do whatever she demanded from him to make up for the horrendous treatment he’d shown her and hoped she’d give him a chance to make a go of their marriage.

He uploaded the video to his few online accounts and turned the phone off, wearily running a hand over his face. Getting up to take one last look he found his jacket from the wedding hanging in the closet.

Folding it he hears a crinkling noise and reaches into the inner pocket finding the marriage certificate. Tossing the jacket on the bed he unrolls the certificate reading his wife’s name Iseult.

“It’s pronounced Ee-sult Alpha.”

Jensen's head jerked up in surprise, “Hey, um, we're heading out as soon as you're ready.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll need you to button my dress Alpha.” She said repacking his bath kit she'd borrowed.

Jensen furrowed his brow, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in something else, I mean, I’m telling you what to wear but it’s a three hour drive to my..our home.”

Iseult looked down playing with one of the pearlescent buttons, “When I married my hus..ex husband, our prenup stated that I only got what I had in my possession at the time. Apparently, he disposed of my things at some point,” she fanned out the shirt, “this dress, shoes and veil, your mother purchased them otherwise the media would have had a lot more to exploit at my..our expense Alpha.”

“Let me give you something of mine.”

“Anything of yours will swallow me, you're much more solid. There is a Walmart on..” she abruptly stopped at Jensen's raised eyebrow, “I’m sorry Alpha, I overstepped my place.” She bowed her head and hunched her shoulders, exuding the scent of fear as if she is expecting punishment from him.

What had happened to this woman to make her believe she should cower and gravel? Jensen manages to keep his anger in check, not wanting her to be more scared of him than she was, thinking who the hell is her ex-husband and what had he done to make her like this?

Jensen slowly walked behind her and gripping the fabric was once again dismayed at how prominent her shoulder blades were, his gut telling him her slenderness wasn't something natural.

As he fastened the buttons he spoke in the gentle voice he used when Jared's daughter Odette was upset, “If you can survive till tomorrow I’ll take you to get whatever you need.” She nodded once.

“Can I make one request Alpha?”

“You don’t have to request anything, just ask.”

“I have a prescription I need refilled, there’s a pharmacy on Wilmont, it’s on the way.”

He plucked the jacket off the bed and held it open, “Please, it's getting chilly.” She slid her arms into the sleeves and Jensen saw she was right about being swallowed. He put on his ball cap and headed out.

When they got off the elevators Jensen went deeper into the hotel. He stopped at an employees only entrance off the kitchen and knocked twice. A double knock answered and he pushed it open to reveal a waiting SUV. He introduced Clif and handed him the bag, taking it to the vehicle's rear and loaded it before getting back in.

The wind had started picking up ahead of the late autumn thunderstorm. Iseult grabbed her whipping hair in one hand and her skirt in the other as Jensen opened the back door.

“Iseult?”

“I was waiting for you Alpha, its proper etiquette.”

“I was raised it’s proper for a lady to enter first, please,” he held his hand out to her.

Iseult released her hair and hesitantly took his hand. Jensen felt a skittering sensation go up his spin as Iseult quivered, staring into his eyes as a whirling wind intermingled their scents, enthralling them.

Clif politely coughed, “We need to go before the bottom falls out.”

A tremendous thunderclap sent them scrambling into the car as the heavens let loose.

***

The trip to Austin was darker than usual, the weather slowing the drive back and with the incident at the pharmacy, Jensen still couldn’t believe it, refusing the prescription now that she was married to an Alpha, needing his verbal consent.

Clif interceded before he went off about the subjugation of Omegas in modern society, reminding him they were in predominantly conservative Texas, where this thinking was considered normal, not California.

Jensen glanced over to see Iseult staring out the window when his phone vibrated. Picking it up from the cup holder he saw a text from Josh.

>Jenny, know I’m not supposed to be in touch but call me!!! Need to know the shit going down here.<

Josh picked up on the first ring, “Man, all hell breaking loose. Your wife's ex didn't notify his clan that he was divorcing or remarrying her and they’ve filed an appeal with the Pack council to get her back.”

“We were married in the Traditional...”

“The fuck Jenny, did living in La La land make you forget everything? Your the second son of a clan leader, you know Pack law supersedes all federal, state and religious laws. They’ve dug up some obscure sub-clause that states a clan has first right to remarry an Omega within the clan and if they don’t whoever takes them must pay settlements.”

“What are settlements?”

“Has your brain fallen out of your ass? The bride price.”

“Josh, that's insane, it's 2020....”

“No shit Sherlock, but this is Texas. Fuck, dads back already. I’m gonna leave my phone on, keep your goddamn mouth shut or it's gonna be my ass too!”

Jensen can’t make out anything then his mother clearly says, “..they are asking what for her?”

“Ten million.”

“Your shitting me!”

“Joshua, language young man.”

“Five of it’s compensation for damages done to the Omega.”

“What damages? Jenny’s got a temper, what Alpha doesn’t, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone unless he was forced to.”

Alan cleared his throat in the manner Jensen had come to know that something’s making him uncomfortable. “It seems the Omega was..unsullied when she married her ex-husband.”

“Holy shit! You mean she’s never been with an Alpha before Jensen?”

“Joshua, I will not tolerate that language and we will absolutely not discuss your brothers new wife’s...virtue.”

Jensen hears the tinkling of glass, “Donna, did you know about any of this?”

“Well..no, of course not.” Her answer wasn’t very convincing.

“Donna, what are you not saying?” Alan’s Alpha voice resonated, he only used it when his mate was being evasive about something she’d done.

“When Danneel wasn’t willing to reproduce for Jensen I put out some feelers about finding him an Omega…”

“Jesus Fucking Christ! Even if it is acceptable for Jensen to have a second wife with Danneel being a Beta, he would never agree to it.”

“I’m not telling you again about your language. I might have, at one of my appointments, casually indicated to Brent that I wanted an Omega like his.”

Who the hell is this Brent?

“Wait, Brent Worthington?!”

Jensen dropped his phone. It smacked against his other hand turning on the speaker allowing everyone in the car to hear.

“Donna, have you any idea what you’ve done?”

“I never thought he'd actually offer her, they always seemed so happy together.”

“He took your casual indication as an actual offer for his wife. You do understand that while we have to deal with each other they are still our rivals.”

The Ackles and Worthingtons were two of the original founding clans of the Dallas Pack, and rivals for centuries. Iseult had been married to the only Beta son of Abraham, the Clans Alpha, like Alan.

Josh’s voice shook as he spoke, “Mom, if the council decides to return her do you have any idea what they’ll do if Jensen’s already mated and claimed her?”

There’s a ringing phone and Alan answered, his voice loud then faint, apparently pacing around the room.

In the SUV dim interior Jensen could see Iseult shaking, awaiting the decision.

“The council sided with the Worthington's stating the law…”

Jensen’s inner Alpha raged, loosening a wrawl causing Clif to jerk the wheel, swerving across the wet lanes, throwing Jensen against the seat in front of him, landing on the floorboard before the vehicle was under control and stopped on the shoulder. Twisting around he sees Clif opening the back door checking on Iseult while Alan’s voice filled the otherwise silent SUV.

“...but taking into consideration today’s social climate they came back with the final decision since she remarried another clan leader's son her status is unchanged, so if we send her back there’s no penalty for damages. If we choose to keep her, it’s five million due to the Omegas age.”

“What did you tell them dad?”

“I told them we were keeping her, I won’t be the cause of anymore upheaval in my son's life. However,” Alan’s voice turned hard, “the council has ordered additional financial penalties set against both clan leaders for the transgressions committed by their families.”

“How much?”

“I paid twenty-five million for a Deuxième Omega.”

tbc

SPN: @donnaintx​​​​​​​

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva​​​​​​​

[mojojojo2017]

Professor Cliché

A Vegebul One-Shot

Summary: The notorious Professor Vegeta Ouji. Students and colleagues alike whither under his steely glare. But a certain heiress doesn’t seem to be as affected. At least not in the way Vegeta is accustomed to...

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Vegeta/Bulma Briefs

Word count: 1,405

Also on AO3 and FFN

Professor Cliché

I never thought this would happen to me. That I would end up falling into this cliché. But here we are...

As he walked into the lecture hall, the only thing on his mind was how many of these dunderheads would be dropping his class after today. “Everyone, take your seats. This class started five minutes ago.”

“B-but, Professor, you’re just now walking in...”

Vegeta looked up into the face of the imbecile who dared to speak. His eyes locked on to a short, nerdy type with a stupid hat on his head. “And your name is?”

“Um, Chiaotzu, sir.”

“Chiaotzu,” he repeated. He made his way over to the big mahogany desk in the center of the room, carelessly tossing his briefcase, watching as it skid across the desktop. He took a casual, albeit domineering, stance before the class, crossing his arms over his chest and leaned precariously on the edge of the desk, he legs crossed at the ankle. His usual stance for when he was about to school an exasperating student. “Now, Chiaotzu. Would you care to take a look at your schedule.” He remained still as he was met with silence and the dumbfounded expression on the student in question’s face. “I’m waiting,” he deadpanned.

“Y-yes, sir. Um, this class is scheduled for 5pm on Tuesdays, sir.”

“And what time is it now?”

“F-five o’seven, sir.”

“Meaning...?”

Chiaotzu spluttered incoherently.

“Meaning class started seven minutes ago,” a feminine voice answered.

Vegeta turned to find the culprit that interrupted his valuable teaching moment. Years of practice at remaining cool and detached in any given situation had prepared him well. Otherwise his eyes would’ve bugged out of his skull as he took in the appearance of the woman sitting in the front row with her leg provocatively placed over the other, making her skirt ride up her milky thighs. Vegeta’s demeanor did not sway, his callous facade still in place although his heart skipped a beat as he mentally appreciated the bluenette’s beauty. Not to be derailed by her, he continued, “and your name, Miss?”

“Briefs. Bulma Briefs.”

A mummer ran throughout the room as the other students reacted to the name. Vegeta was no exception to the surprisingly familiar name. He knew that name all too well. Seen it on his checks every two weeks. “As in daughter of Dr. Briefs, founder of this university? That Bulma Briefs?” he questioned.

“The one and only,” she replied with a cheeky smile.

Vegeta could sense this woman was accustomed to getting what she wanted. But he vowed that he wouldn’t be so easily fooled. “So then, tell me, Miss Briefs. Am I correct in my assumption that class did indeed start seven, well I guess it would now be eight, minutes ago? Despite the fact that I was not in the room at that time.”

“Sir, I didn’t mean-” Chiaotzu tried to interject.

Vegeta held his hand up at him. His eyes never strayed from Bulma. “Quiet, Mr. Gyoza. I believe I was asking Miss Briefs.”

“Technically, yes,” she stated. Vegeta smiled, smug, ready to dismiss the conversation and prove his point further, but Bulma kept talking. “But one may then ask how there can be a lecture without a professor to give it?”

Vegeta scowled. “I refer you back to Mr. Gyoza’s answer from before. This class is scheduled at 5pm. Whether I am here or not does not negate the appointed time for which this class is to be taught.”

“So I’m to assume then that, whether or not you choose to grace us with your presence, we are to come to class expectant to learn and review material?”

Vegeta’s perpetual scowl almost faltered. He was not used to students challenging him. Or anyone for that matter. He was the notorious Professor Ouji. People wept when they say his name on their rosters. And he was not going to be out shown by a prissy little debutant who got to where she’s at solely on the curtails of her father’s success. “Yes. You assume correctly.” He got to his feet and went to the chalkboard that spanned the length of the lecture hall. “Now, if we are in understanding of the intricacies of scheduling and when this class begins, let’s finally get down to business.” He grabbed a piece of chalk and wrote ‘Dr. Vegeta Ouji’ and ‘Anthropology 101’ on the board in his neat scrawl. “I am sure all of you have a copy of the syllabus at the ready, so I will review my expectations of each and every one of you during this course.” His eyes lingered on the blue-haired heiress in the front as he retrieved his own copy from his briefcase.

How the hell did this happen?

Vegeta found himself in his office, as he usually did after class. But this time he was not alone. This time was completely different. Here he sat in his leather desk chair as the busty Miss Briefs straddled his lap, her skirt hiked up to her waist and her blouse unbuttoned to show the red lacy bra underneath. Vegeta tried but failed to hide the utter pleasure he felt as he moved her panties to the side to allow her to sink down on his throbbing erection. The moan that escaped both their lips was laced with carnal desire.

“Oh my god. When my friends said you were a giant dick, I never would’ve thought you had one too,” Bulma said as she closed her eyes and ground herself down on Vegeta’s lap.

“Fuck... that filthy mouth of yours.”

Bulma leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Was that a request to fuck my filthy mouth?”

Vegeta grabbed Bulma’s hips, swiveling her in a way that caused her to moan in ecstasy and surprise. “I can think of a few other ways to occupy that mouth of yours first,” he said huskily. He fisted his hand into her hair and captured her lips with his. Bulma moaned into the kiss. Vegeta began to bounce her up and down his cock, helping her achieve an intense rhythm they both thoroughly enjoyed. Bulma fumbled to divest Vegeta of his dress shirt, skimming her hands over his exposed pecs and pushing the button-up down his arms. Vegeta sat forward and Bulma was able to wrap her arms around his muscular back, scratching her fingers along the base of his scalp, making him give a forceful thrust upwards at the unexpected tremor of pleasure. She repeated the action and Vegeta could feel her smile against his lips.

“Temptress,” he growled.

“Oh, I think I did more that just tempt you.”

Vegeta stood suddenly, his large hands gripping Bulma’s plump ass as he deposited her on top of his desk. He hooked his hands behind her knees, spreading her open for him. Then he really started to move. He snapped his hips against her, thrusting his cock in to be hilt before he pulled almost completely out, only to delve back in again. Bulma laid back against the desk, completely consumed by the pure, unadulterated pleasure Vegeta was bringing her. It was heaven. Vegeta was stretching her in the best possible way, she was so tight. His long strokes spurring her on and making her moan loudly. Vegeta was so close watching her come undone before him. He almost exploded as he watched her move her hand down to circle her clit as he continued to fuck her. Then he felt it. Her walls clenched his cock deliciously. Her moans reverberating against the corners of his office. He was a goner. He grunted out as he climaxed, giving one final thrust as his orgasm took over. He stood for one moment longer, completely spent from his release, before slowly removing himself from Bulma’s still fluttering cavern. He fell back into his cushioned chair, his breathing ragged. He watched as the woman on top of his desk tried to catch her breath, her chest heavy attractively and her legs still spread open. He could see his cum seeping out of her pussy and couldn’t help the groan that escaped him at the sight. Bulma moved her head to the side at the sound, opening her eyes so she could look at Vegeta. Meeting his dark, desire-filled eyes, she gave him a languid smile.

Vegeta gazed back at her gorgeous face, his breath catching. Fuck...

[dreamingofmilk]

SugarBabe

Word count 2.1k

Summary: What would it be like if Erik was your boss and you were both stuck in a really tough spot.

This is for @marvelmaree and her birthday challenge.

Another email buzzed into your phone, your fingers anxiously twitched around it desperate to answer and solve all your problems. But it was never that easy.

You were a headstrong and independent woman who always strives to take care of yourself without the help of anyone. You didn’t need anyone to take care of you, but the situation you were in right now made you consider otherwise.

You made phone call after phone call and nothing was working and soon you would be flat on your butt with nothing but your dream job to keep you up. But it really didn’t matter because in the end you would get everything figured out and back on your feet.

For right now you’d focus on your boss and helping him shop for his upcoming business trip. You were supposed to meet your boss Erik Stevens in the watch shop about ten minutes ago but you were a bit weighed down with all the bags you were carrying.

You stopped to rest on a bench, you had a few work calls to make anyway. A loud sigh of relief escaping your lips when the weight of the back. You were just catching your breath when you heard a chuckle come from the stand in front of you.

“It’s okay to ask for help. There’s no reason a young lady like you should be carrying all those bags by herself.” The older man smiled kindly at you. You smiled back and quickly got up from the bench, you didn’t have to explain yourself to anyone. Erik offered to join you to pick up his online orders, but you assured him that his time was better spent on the conference call that he wrapped up ten minutes ago, and that the bags wouldn’t be too much for you to handle on your own.

Eventually you make it to the watch shop, and made eye contact with Erik as you entered the shop loudly with all the bags in your petite hands. Erik’s eyes roll over your form, his jaw clenching as he sees the amount of bags in your possession. He quickly marches over to you and snatches the bags from you. Picking them up effortlessly he bends down to whisper in your ear.

“Next time, we go together.” His anger is thick and understandable, you quickly look away from his eyes and nod. Silence seems like the best response at the moment.

You stand behind Erik to watch him pick out another sharp looking watch. It was his obsession, he loved his watches. Sometimes he would send you to go get them cleaned or fixed but most times he’d rather go himself, regardless of how busy he was.

As his personal assistant he demanded you tag along, especially when times were busy like today. Most of the time he liked having you around for the company, but also because he says having a beautiful girl like you on his arm warded off the desperate attempts some women took to shoot their shot.

Erik was a well known CEO of a huge engineering firm, frequently recognized by business magazines and publications, he easily became one of the western world's most sought after bachelors. So it’s no surprise that women recognized him sometimes and approached him when they felt necessary.

Erik held conferences, did interviews, and held charity galas all the time, working for him paid well, and he treated his employees with respect and cherished anyone who worked hard with him. You admired him and truly enjoyed working for such a determined man.

Erik finished up with the clerk and got his items wrapped up. While waiting he watched how you nervously kept checking your phone. The nervous tick of biting your bottom lip was a dead giveaway. After 5 years of working together Erik knew you well. He could tell when things were bothering you, he trusted you to tell him the truth about his company and a lot of the decisions he made. So any look of unease had him on alert as it usually signaled something that could be a problem with the company.

Annnnd he had a bit of a crush on you, he knew you had a crush on him too, but it was quietly determined that the two of you would not pursue it. The mutual attraction was obvious between the two of you, but you worked hard to bury it deep. Mainly because you worked so well together.

Erik grabbed your chin gently, his thumb forcing you to release your bottom lip. You looked up at him with your eyes wide as saucers. The grip on your phone tightened when you noticed Erik lick his lips staring down at you.

“What’s the matter?” Erik nodded towards your phone. You were a bit shook and quickly pulled yourself out of his grip and closed your phone pocketing it and smiling up at your boss.

“Nothing! Are we ready to go?”

Erik’s eyes squinted at you and nodded as he held up his packaged watches. You lead the way out of the store and towards his car. He put the bags in the trunk and you quickly hopped into the passenger seat after he opened it for you. You quietly murmured thank you and pulled out your work phone to see what was next on the agenda for the day.

Erik has a huge business deal coming up that required his travel to Singapore. Normally you’d travel with him for deals as big as this one, but this one was so important that he would be gone for about 2-3 weeks, maybe having to be back and forth a bit longer if everything went really well… or really bad. This trip required a lot of preparation on his part and yours and he left in two days, so it’s imperative that he complete his travel shopping today.

Erik climbs into the driver's seat and pulls off from the curb.

“Okay you have an appointment at Grisham Mall for those suits, then-“ Erik cut you off and held his hand out for your phone.

“Give it to me.” His voice is deep and rough. You go to hand him your work phone confusion etched on your face. “The other one.” His eyes cut towards you. “I’m not playing with you.” Your brain shorts. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you were used to Erik’s moods and for the most part they turned you on more than anything.

“Why! It’s not that deep Erik.”

“Then give me the fucking phone so I can see what’s got you so nervous. Or you could just tell me.” Erik’s face was serious, he could always tell when you were trying to keep things from him.

You sigh and hand over your phone with the email detailing your eviction from your apartment.

Erik’s face got tighter as he read the email, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

“How did this happen?” He glanced briefly at you.

“I think someone stole my identity.” The words slip from your mouth, you’d been trying to handle it on your own this entire time, but things were worse than you perceived them to be.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply, his frustration clear. "How long has this been going on?"

"About a month." You shrunk a bit under his intense gaze, embarrassed to give him the answer.

"You've been dealing with this for a whole month and didnt say anything?" Erik knew you were headstrong and independent, he just never knew how deep that went.

You shrugged, "I'm handling it. I just need to talk to my leasing office and ask for an extension on rent. It's nothing to worry about."

Erik chuckled, mocking you under his breath. “Nothing to worry about” Erik grabbed your wrist, "The hell it is." He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a black Amex card.

"Here, pay your rent and everything else with this. I'll get Marcus on the phone and have him figure out who stole your identity." He flicked the card at you like it was a $10 Walmart gift card. You instinctively tried to push it back to him, but thought better of it when you saw the glare on his face. It's best to pick your battles with Erik and now was definitely not a good time to argue with him. He hates when you hide big things from him.

You grabbed the card and gave him a small but genuine smile, the relief and frustration fought for domination on your face. "Thank you so much Erik. I promise I'll pay you back."

"Don't worry about it. It's nothing."

You shook your head vigorously. "Bullshit! I'm paying you back one way or another."

Erik rolled his eyes, but he didn't argue. You made your way to the mall. Erik was on the phone giving Marcus a rundown of your situation so he could get started. The two of you made it to the next mall to pick up the suits. Shortly after he hung up, his phone rang again.

He greeted them with a simple "Erik." You couldn't help but eavesdrop, hey some could say it was part of your job, especially when Erik's face quickly morphed into shock.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" He said.

There was a bit more conversation. “Why the hell did no one see this being an issue earlier. I specifically asked what were their core values!!” Erik's face grew more frustrated as it continued before he said a quick goodbye and hung up.

"Is everything ok? Did something go wrong with the Singapore trip?" You waited a few moments before asking.

"That was Jeff. He was able to do the values and moral eval on the owners and it's about what we expected, except for the part where they truly believe a businessman needs to be married and involve his wife in the processes of the business. They like the idea of a family guy basically.” Erik rolled his eyes. “Some bullshit about how there might be another competitor with values that line up more. Jeff's suggesting I need to find a fake wife for the trip to stay in their good graces. How the fuck am I going to find someone suitable in 2 weeks?" Erik pinched the bridge of his nose, his nostrils flaring in frustration.

You immediately started racking your brain sifting through all of the women you knew who could maybe handle the job. It had to be someone who knew their way around a company, even better if they had experience in the types of mergers Erik did. They had to get along with Erik- which was pretty difficult once he got to know them- enough to convince the owners that it was a real marriage. They had to be free during the 2-3 week period he would be in Singapore, and be able to do all of this under short notice. Not to mention all of the other factors like facilitating business meetings, building rapport, etc.

Erik suddenly stopped walking, and you were so deep in thought that you ran into his broad back, almost knocking yourself to the floor.

He quickly wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you, pulling you close to his side. He smelled so damn good!

"That's it! I don't know why I didn't see it sooner!" Erik smiled brightly.

"See what?" You tilted your head in confusion. He smiled softly and moved a few pieces of your hair back into place. "You can be my wife. You know everything about the company, we've been working together for years so we won't have to worry about that. It's perfect!"

The thought of it alone brought a euphoria you've never felt before, which was terrifying. There's no way you'd be able to handle pretending to be Erik's wife! You barely held it together working alongside him these past few years.

You shook your head, "Erik, I'm sure there's someone else who would work better for this. Plus someone is going to have to handle your day to day operations while you're gone."

He smirked, "I'll have Gina take that over, no problem. Besides, weren't you just talking about how you were going to pay me back? Do this for me and I'll consider us even. Think of it as overtime."

Damn, he had a point. You would just have to guard yourself during this trip then. You can't allow yourself to get caught up. He was right though. He's done so much for you, it'd be nice to be able to help him out for once.

You looked into his eyes and nodded.

"Ok. I'll be your wife."

Taglist:

@aislinnsilver @marvelmaree @wawakanda-btch @chaneajoyyy

[cpd5021]

Eggnog

Day six! This one is on the lighter “smut” side, kinda a fade to black scenario if you will. Rated T for one aptly placed F-bomb. Enjoy!

     Christmas parties were never Hailey’s thing, but this year the CPD was putting on a small gathering for each district and somehow Platt had ended up in charge of the party for the 21st. Meaning, Hailey and the rest of Intelligence weren’t going to get out of attending. Despite all of their best efforts to avoid contact with the desk Sergeant, eventually she sent out a mass email, directly calling them out and stating she was excited for their presence. No one bothered replying to her and honestly she probably didn’t expect one, her silent threat would be enough to secure their attendance. Luckily, it wasn’t a fancy thing so Hailey didn’t feel the need to go home and change before she met up with Jay down in the main lobby to ride to the banquet hall together. The two bantered on the way there, laughing at the situation they were in and hoping after a brief appearance they would be able to escape. Jay mentioned grabbing some Bartoli’s and beers afterwards and it was enough to get Hailey through the next few hours. 

     Seeing as it was a work party, they were informed by a small sign at the door that no alcohol would be served, causing Hailey and Jay to groan in sync. They headed into a room filled with tables that were decorated with all sorts of Christmas decor. And glitter. Lots and lots of glitter. The two shared another look before moving in to find the table with the rest of their unit. The group fell into an easy conversation, all of them keeping their eyes on Platt as she made her way through the crowd, stopping at each table with an uncharacteristic smile on her face. Finally, she made her way over to them and her smile faltered. 

“Well aren’t you a scraggly bunch.”

She commented, shifting her eyes from each person. 

“Sarge, the email said informal dress so…”

Adam trailed off under her stern gaze. The rest of them kept quiet and eventually she moved on. The DJ announced the buffet of food was ready and they all made their way up to grab a plate. Jay motioned for Hailey to go down the line first but teasingly kept reaching for things on her plate. She would laugh at his antics and the two were completely oblivious to the looks the rest of the team were sharing over their interaction. Hailey took her food back over to the table and Jay followed suit, leaning down to ask her if she wanted a drink. He returned a few moments later with two glasses of eggnog, earning a look from Hailey. 

“Platt was up there and insisted this is what I take.”

He shrugged sheepishly, not willing to fight the older woman. Hailey took a sip and laughed when she remembered this was a non-alcohol event. Hopefully after the dinner they would be able to leave and grab some beers at his place. After they finished eating, wait staff came to clear their plates. Adam nodded for Jay to follow him up to the drink table again and when they returned they were both grinning. Jay handed Hailey another full glass of eggnog, making her stomach churn at the thought. 

“No, I promise. This one will be better.”

Hailey and Kim shared a look as they each took a sip and Hailey burst out laughing when she tasted the addition. 

“Did you spike the eggnog?”

Adam patted at his coat pocket, concealing a small bottle of liquor held there. Hailey finished the glass and then gladly accepted a second. When Jay offered a third she shook her head, already feeling a buzz from the concoction. Jay had only drank the one glass and decided to stop so he would be good to drive them home. The DJ came over the loudspeaker again, cutting harshly through the music and causing them all to jump slightly. Of course Platt would have gone all out and planned some Christmas party games for them all to partake in. After they managed to get through her games, earning some stares from the other tables as their alcohol consumption caught up with them, they were finally done for the night. Jay led her outside to his truck, laughing when she stumbled slightly on the sidewalk. 

“Are you drunk?”

He asked, gripping her waist to keep her steady the rest of the way. 

“No…”

She replied, drawing out the word in a way that made him think otherwise. They made it to his truck and he settled her into the passenger seat before jogging around to his side. One thing that Jay had quickly realized over the course of their relationship is that a drunk Hailey was a handsy Hailey and tonight was no exception. Somehow he managed to make it to his apartment in one piece, despite the fact that her hands had been all over him the entire way. By the time they made it up the stairs and to his door, Hailey was all over him once again, running her cold hands under his shirt as he fumbled with the keys. Her hands dipped down under the waistband of his jeans and Jay used one hand to halt her movement while the other finally got his door unlocked. He dragged her inside, shutting the door behind them and laughing again when she stumbled with his fast pace. 

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

He asked, grinning as he held her steady. Her face scrunched up as she pondered her answer, causing Jay to laugh once again.

“It’s debatable.”

Jay led her into the apartment, helping her shed her coat and boots before leading her down the hall to his bedroom. 

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Hailey tugged his arm, turning him around and crashing him backwards into the wall. Her arms were instantly around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Jay gave her a quick peck before pulling back to smirk down at her. She grinned up at him, biting her lower lip as her eyes trailed down to his mouth.

“I’ll go to bed...but I’m not sleeping any time soon.”

She gave him a wink before pulling back and leading him the rest of the way. Once in the bedroom, Jay spun her around and gently pushed her back onto the bed, biting his lip when he took in her appearance. Her hair spread out behind her on the mattress, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glistened with the alcohol she had consumed. Jay bent down to take a hold of her legs, gripping just behind her knees and pulling her to the edge of the bed. Her legs latched around his waist, pulling him as close as she could physically get him and grinding her hips up into hip. Jay let out a groan, tightening his grip on her legs as he bent down to find her lips. Their mouths battled for dominance until they were both breathless and Hailey pulled away to look up at him. 

“Fuck me Jay…”

She whispered, her lips brushing against his as she spoke. His lips tugged into a smile and he drew her bottom lip between his teeth before he responded. 

“With pleasure.”

[stiles-o-dylan24]

I have a few teen wolf hypothetical questions that I hope you don't mind giving your opinion on? Hopefully they're fun to answer and consider! These are all talking like in the future

1. Do you think Stiles would stick with the FBI or go to work at the Sheriff station as a Deputy and eventually take over from his dad? What do you see him doing as a job basically?

2. Do you think Stiles girlfriend/wife would call Stilinski 'Sheriff' like everyone else or 'Noah'? Even when in the comforts of their own homes? How would she address him?

3. Do you think Scott and Stiles would still be best friends? Even way into the future? Would they have kids around the same time and would they be best friends just like Scott and Stiles?

4. What do you think Scott and Stiles significant others job would be? Personally I can see Stiles kinds dating a High School teacher, especially as he was always the brains of the pack, to me it kinda just seems fitting he dates someone brainy and academic like he was. Scott I'm not so sure with actually?

These were a ridiculous amount of fun, seriously thank you so much for sending them in!💛

1. I definitely see him staying with the FBI for a few years probably before beacon hills would eventually be calling him back. Like maybe after a particularly difficult and draining case he goes back home for a mini getaway to see his dad again and actually get to spend time with him. Then casually his dad mentions that there’s a deputy spot opening and Stiles takes the rest of his vacation to seriously consider it, officially resigning from the bureau as soon as he went back. The father/son duo would dominate the Sheriff station’s cases and it would be a no brainer that he would take the reins of Sheriff when Noah retires. I think Stiles would be an amazing agent and absolutely crush every case he was handed, but beacon hills is where he belongs. I think he would be so happy to be back and taking over ‘officially’ looking over the town.

2. Since Stiles would be back in Beacon Hills that means so would she so I could definitely see her calling Noah ‘Sheriff’ for a long time. I mean I’m talking through the entire dating period and the engagement, possibly even the wedding when he asks to dance with his daughter, and he’s just like “Come on- you have to at least call me dad now!” So she would ponder that before smiling and offering a shrug, agreeing to call him dad when he’s not on duty or out in the town, but otherwise she’d still call him Sheriff 😂

3. Personally I feel without a doubt they would still be best friends. Everything that they went through would just solidify that they’d be in each other’s lives forever. That plus I feel like Scott’s work with Argent would help in keeping him and Stiles in contact throughout the years so there wouldn’t be that weird period during college/early 20′s where so many childhood friendships get rocky or lose touch. I see Scott mainly residing in Beacon when he’s not helping or recruiting the supernatural so when Stiles comes back to work at the station it’s definitely like nothing’s changed, except now it’s legal for them to be at the crime scenes. I feel like they’re the kind of friendship that has the cosmic universe luck that they would meet their significant others around the same time, or at least within the first year, and from then on everything happens close to the same time with getting engaged and married. Definitely having babies close in age because their ladies would be best friends as well and since Stiles and Scott are only kids and basically brothers they need to have their kiddos close in age so they can grow up together with that close family friend also! Also Stiles’ kiddos calling Scott and his wife ‘uncle and auntie’ and Scott’s kiddos doing the same with Stiles and his wife, like stop I'm so soft🥺 

4. Oh goodness YES, I definitely see Stiles with a teacher as well! I could see her being one of the younger years in grade primary school, like one of the first 4 years or so. She would just absolutely adore the kids and Stiles would love her even more for that, seeing how big of a heart she has for these kids every year and being so sad when the school year is over and she has to say bye to them. Could even see her also teaching a few summer classes at the local college because she got her degree to be a professor but after completing her requirement teaching courses for her degree, teaching younger kids just called to her, so she figured out a way to do both. Plus come on- the deputy/eventual Sheriff and the school teacher? SO CUTE

Scott I could most definitely see dating a nurse or a doctor and I don’t mean that as a cop out answer since his mom was one but because he’s always at the hospital to visit his mom. So I just think he would have one of those encounters where she always sees him when she’s at the nurse’s station or dropping off charts and one day is finally like ‘yeah let’s go get coffee’. That or Melissa would 100% set them up. I could see her being a pediatric’s nurse or doctor and that would just be so fitting for Scott to be with someone who could be that brave to work with kids... because being a nurse or a doctor takes friggin guts but to be a children’s doctor? Having to deal with the heartbreak of tiny humans being sick and hurt daily, I feel like that just takes an incredibly brave human being and I feel like that kind of human being would relate a lot to Scott and they’d be friggin adorable together.

[moonctzeny]

I don’t think I can wait

“You’re basically eating me up in your imagination right now”

“Oh, I’m doing much more than that”

pairing: Doyoung + fem!reader

genre: smut

word count: 1,927

warnings: public sex, dirty talking, light degradation but it’s consensual of course

summary: “You and your boyfriend are going out for a fancy dinner, but he looks so good you want him to take you right now. And you can’t wait to go home”

a/n: please don’t put your boyfriend’s fingers in your mouth during a pandemic

——————————————————-

Having a gourmet dinner in formal wear wasn’t really your thing. You were more of a making pizza in your underwear type of gal, but when Doyoung made a reservation at one of the fanciest restaurants in the area, to celebrate your anniversary, you couldn’t turn him down.

You dressed up for the occasion, slipping on one of the few designer dresses you owned, Doyoung’s favorite. Carefully chosing your make up and jewelry to match, you left your place smelling like expensive cologne and looking like a million bucks.

But none of that mattered. Because right now, as you finished the overpriced main dish you ordered, you only wanted to taste one dessert. Your boyfriend’s dick.

He had no right looking this handsome tonight. His hair was jelled back, letting his sharp eyes shine in their full glory over the candle light between you. The black silk shirt he chose to wear looked royal on him, the dainty jewelry accentuating his collarbones and making his neck look delicious. His long fingers looked even prettier than usual, decorated in silver rings, and you couldn’t stop daydreaming about sucking on them.

You took one more sip from the french wine he had ordered for you, the alcohol not helping your situation. You put the glass down, absentmindedly drawing circles around its perimeter with your finger. A feeling of guilt pooled in your stomach, when you realized you hadn’t listened to a word of the story that he was telling you.

“Are you ok? You seem a little out it tonight”

You took your right heel off, sighing at the alleviation of pain the shoe was giving you. Running your foot up and down his calf, you were glad the tablecloth was long enough to hide the inappropriate action.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m just- so needy tonight”

He chuckled at your tone, and studied your body language. A flushed face and a body leaning towards him, basking him in your attention, begging for his touch. He placed his hand over yours, rubbing little comforting circles with his thumb.

“We’ll get home soon baby, don’t worry”

You glided your foot higher up his thigh, the silky fabric of his slacks making the motion smoother. Batting doe eyes at him, you took his hand and guided it on your lips, as if to leave a sweet kiss. Looking around quickly, you made sure no one was staring directly your way and dipped the tip of his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. Your voice was sweet like honey.

“I don’t think I can wait”

You let him go since a second later, the waiter came, handing you out two little menus. You lifted your foot even higher, pressing it over your boyfriend’s clothed cock, happy to discover that he was already half hard.

“May I interest you in our desserts? You can choose from the menu over here but our specials tonight are crème au caramel, babas au rhum and chocolate lava cake”

Doyoung grabbed your ankle from under the table, stopping your little massage.

“Ooh ooh!” you wiggled excitedly, satisfied with your effect on him, “I’ll take the lava cake. I just love gooey things in my mouth”

Your tone was innocent but your intentions were far from it, and you saw your boyfriend almost choke on his spit from the corner of your eye.

“We’ll share”, he choked out and quickly returned the menus back to the unsuspecting waiter.

“Are you crazy?”, he whispered once the two of you were alone again. Well, as alone as two people in a crowded restaurant can be. The anger in his voice was only turning you on even more.

“What did I do?” you challenged.

“You’re basically eating me up in your imagination right now”

“Oh, I’m doing much more than that”

With that, Doyoung had enough. He stopped a passing waiter and asked for the bill, handing out his credit card impatiently. It wasn’t often you got to break his cool façade like tonight, turning him from the collected man he was to someone so fidgety. You put you shoe back on, excited for what you knew was coming next.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you up, guiding you to the higher floor of the restaurant. The waiter that had taken your order earlier saw you walk away and stopped you, a quizzical look on his face.

“Sir, are you leaving already? What about the desserts?”

“Pack them up, will you? I want to show the beautiful lady the view you have on your top floor”

You weren’t heading to the restaurant’s balcony, of course, but rather the bathrooms. Waiting around for any waiters to leave, you sneaked into the ladies room, luckily empty, hoping no one would interrupt you soon.

The moment you got in, you crashed your lips into his. He kissed you slowly but dirty, dipping his tongue in your mouth and turning you more desperate than ever.

The impatient boy was gone again, his calmness making it seem like he only wanted you half as much as you needed him.

He grabbed your neck and squeezed, and you weren’t sure if it was his dominance or the cold rings that were sending shivers down your spine. Walking you backwards with his grip, you felt the porcelain sink digging in your ass.

“So, did you have my dick in your mouth in your imagination earlier?”

You just nodded eagerly, unable to choke out any words with the way he was restricting your air flow. He released your throat, gripping your hair instead and pushing you down on your knees.

“Then show me, slut”

You wiggled a bit in spot, waiting for him to free his cock from the slacks he was wearing. He only moved the least amount of fabric possible in order to let it spring out, red tip angry and staring at you.

You put your hands on your knees, pushing your boobs together and staring at him in anticipation and thankfulness, like he just did you a favor. Leaning forward, you only trail your tongue across his slit, making him hiss. You move in circles around his tip, focusing on the sensitive skin located right under it.

“No time for this”, he mutters and laces his fingers in your hair again, fitting the entirety of his member in your mouth. You take up the challenge and start to bob against him, moving your head in a pivoting motion. Placing one hand on the base of his cock to stable yourself, you use the other to massage his balls.

“Fuck you’re so good at this”

You felt his cock turn incredibly hard inside your mouth and you couldn’t help but run your tongue through his length, feeling all the little veins and thinking how good he will feel inside you.

As if he heard your thoughts, he pulled you up, a hand kneading your ass. He slips his fingers between your pussy lips, realizing that you have no panties on. His stare was strict but you look at him with wide eyes full of innocence.

“I didn’t want my underwear to be visible through the dress”

He collected the juices that were already pooling there, and placed his fingers on your lips. You open up eagerly, lapping over his digits with such hunger that he’s just staring with an open mouth, his glance darker than ever.

“Is that the case? Or were you planning on getting fucked in public and just gave me the easiest access?”

You didn’t have time to answer him because he immediately pulled up the skirt of your dress, locking your right leg around his waist. The position would otherwise be a bit uncomfortable, but he was so hard and you were so wet that he just slipped into you effortlessly. You were so needy for him that just his tip filling you up triggered a daring moan from you. He bent down for a deep kiss, and you weren’t sure if it was to shut you up or because he got turned on by your desperation. You knew he had more to offer.

“I need more”, you whispered over his lips and he delivered, pulling your dress to the floor leaving you completely naked except for your heels. He turned you around, bending you over the sink, bitting your earlobe before pushing into you completely.

“Be a good girl and shut up”

It was so dirty, how he stayed all suited up and yet you were completely naked for him, bouncing on his cock. You stared at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes moving from your pleasure filled face, to your breasts, to the place were he was digging inside you.

He grabbed your leg, placing your knee on top of the sink, thus making his thrusts feel mind numbingly deep. You moved your fingers over your clit and started rubbing circles over it but he smacked your hand away, doing it for you instead.

The way he was fucking you just right, coupled with the fear of getting caught made it impossibly hard for you to stay quiet. Doyoung grabbed your throat once again, the mirror offering you the beautiful imagery of his fingers over your neck.

“We’ll get caught if you keep being so loud”

“I don’t care”, you moaned out, “let them know how good you’re fucking me”

He growled at that, picking up his pace and shutting your mouth with his hand, muting out the sounds you let out.

“You’re so nasty tonight, you little slut. Begging for it like a bitch in heat. I wouldn’t let you cum, but I don’t want your dripping pussy ruining the leather seats of my car”

His filthy words sent you over the edge, forming tears in the corners of your eyes and making your knees buckle. Doyoung held you in place, continuing to fuck into you, but your whimpering made it obvious that this was too much for you.

He let you kneel down, turning your face around to look at him as he jerked off over it. Your fucked out state was enough for him, soon urging you to open up. Pulling your tongue out for him, he started spurting his cum over it. He looked absolutely beautiful, with his flushed face and open mouth, and you gladly swallowed all of him, reopening your mouth to show him how good you were for him.

He kneeled down next to you, arms embracing you and he pulled you into the sweetest kiss.

“I love you”

“I love you too, Doie”

You let yourself get lost in his scent, the smell of sweat and his woody cologne calming you down. The moment wouldn’t last for long, as a knock on the door made you both jump up in panic.

“Just a moment”, you yelled out, quickly putting your dress back on and fixing your hair to the best of your ability. Doyoung took his suit jacket off, wrapping it around your shoulders and opened the door. The lady looked a bit taken aback to see him in the ladies room, but he only held you closer.

“My girlfriend wasn’t feeling too good”, he lied and she nodded in worry, convinced.

You walked out of the restaurant, a bag with your packed dessert in hand as he sighed.

“What am I gonna do with you?”

“Share the lava cake with me as we prepare for a round two?”

He laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Sounds like a plan”