#for the love of fuck please click for better quality i put so much detail into this

[3cosmicfrogs]

more from the AU where just about everything goes wrong for @zukkaweek Day 6: Royalty. ID in ALT.

Sokka: *exists*

Zuko: *grab*

[kozachenko]

[Click image for better quality]

I FIGURED OUT A WAY TO FUCKING MAKE THE IMAGE SMALLER FOR POSTING ON TUMBLR WITHOUT SACRIFICING THE ACTUAL QUALITY OF THE IMAGE OH MY GOD

Ok so, what I did is go into the clip studio paint file, make a new file, copy and paste the group in the original file, merge everything, get rid of the extra stuff outside of the canvas, and then make the flattened image smaller and crop the canvas. Once you have that, export it and you're done. This helps maintain the actual quality of the image and also helps shrink the file size down to something actually postable (if anyone has a better way of doing this please tell me)

[Edit]: Ok I guess posting something to Tumblr just naturally compresses the image a bit more somehow because I'm looking at it now and zooming in too much makes it a bit blurry so I'm still gonna have to futz around with image quality for future pieces oof

Artist's Note:

I'm so glad I figured out a way to do this because I like working on a big canvas so I can get as much detail in as I possibly can. Only problems are how laggy it gets while drawing lol.

I had an idea for a drawing with Reimu and Zanmu because I really like thinking about their potential dynamic a lot. I also wanted an excuse to draw Zanmu again but in my normal rendering style because last time I drew her she was in my more sketchy style with generally flat colours so I wanted to draw her again. Speaking of, looking at the sketch for this is a jumpscare that I never enjoy seeing, like, man am I glad I didn't use those for my final piece.

Also about her spear. I was originally gonna make it like the ones she had in game, but it kinda threw off the whole piece. It was too big, too blue, and too flat, so I just went "fuck it" and gave her a different one instead. My headcanon justifying this is that the ones she uses in game are for danmaku battles whereas in any other fight she just uses a proper yari, or she still uses the yari and just makes it all glowy to power it up, maybe both lol. I pulled as much inspiration as I could from Sengoku era spears, and even put in some blue into the decorative part of the spear and also added a little skull to pay tribute to the original spear. Also, in my research I saw some art of izanami and izanagi making japan and saw that the yari izanagi has had a little decorative tassley thingy on it so I took some inspo from that and just made it one of Zanmu's tassles (Idk when that art was from or if the spear was still accurate to Sengoku period Japan but hey, probably the same reasons Eirin puts little bow ties on her arrows, it's just for personalization purposes).

I love rendering hair and clothes so much omg, while I like the super curly hair Zanmu, the longer, wavier hair suits her better for this drawing (I imagine it only does that like how Ghibli characters hair moves when they feel angry lol). I love making Zanmu's hair all messy and crazy, as well as giving her grey hairs, this woman has aged like a fine wine. Also, if the hem on the ends of her sleeves, top of her shirt, and her pants look like gold to you, that's because it is! It's fairly light so she's not collapsing under the weight, but it's gold! (I don't care how impractical it is, it's just cool). Not the undershirt though, it's made of a gold fabric. I had a cute idea with Reimu's hair to make it have a red shine to it. I also changed up Reimu's outfit so it isn't just a blob of red. I like it a lot when Reimu's skirt and outfit is segmented into different layers, so I wanted to incorporate that.

I tried to draw their hands differently as well, but IDK how noticeable that is. Also, I am super happy with how the side profiles for the two of them turned out, I used to struggle a lot with how to make the side profile of a character actually look like the character, so I'm really happy that they actually look like themselves.

Also added in the tree and rocks in the background as an homage to Zanmu's character art in Touhou 19, just because I was getting kinda stumped on what to do with the background lol.

In terms of a story idea with Reimu and Zanmu, idk why but the potential plotline of Zanmu wanting to ascend to godhood is so fascinating to me. Like, it is very possible that if she just convinced everyone she was a god (which would be very easy for her to do), she would become one in a heartbeat. Also, if she were to become a god, with her ability to return stuff to nothing, could she hypothetically get similar abilities to (Jojo Part 5 spoiler btw) GER? Like, idk about the death timeloop stuff, but the concept has been haunting me every night as I have been trying to find loopholes in GER's ability for a while now ( for no reason in particular). Back to the main topic, I imagine that she would probably tell Reimu that if she were to become a god she would take over the Hakurei shrine since the god there might as well be dead, and Reimu just says to her, "Over my dead body bitch." Like, I have no idea how to summarize their dynamic but like, it's the type of hero-villain dynamic where the phrase "We're not so different, you and I" would definitely be a phrase said during a fight. I think that if another IN style game were to release, Reimu and Zanmu would be in a team together. They could also have an interesting mentor and pupil kind of dynamic. Can you tell that Zanmu has been charging my mind rent these part few months? Like, instead of living in my head rent free, she kinda just uno reversed the whole situation and now she's the one charging me rent. What happens if I get evicted from my own brain? Actually, scratch that, I don't think I wanna know.

[paperw0rmz]

Complete guide to Flickr and why you should use it

bc I got some things wrong but it’s still a very good website that we should all use instead of Instagram

1: Flickr isn’t tied to Meta or any of that Facebook bullshit, from my knowledge it doesn’t share your contacts so no one will get a notification that you joined, it’s safer that way and more private than Instagram.

2: It’s built for photos. Instagram kills quality of photos, if you’re an artist, especially a digital one, uploading to Flickr would be way better for people to actually see detail and the color.

Going on with this because it’s built for photos, while it can host video, it doesn’t have TikTok/Reels and lives which is soooo nice. Like I don’t hate that stuff, but I like that Flickr isn’t trying to catch on the latest trends.

3: There isn’t likes. Flickr is mainly for sharing and LOOKING at photos. The most interaction you can get one on one is commenting, following, and favoriting. Favoriting is basically the public saves, no one really faves things on there unless it’s a recipe or for a reference or something.

4: Groups. Flickr does have an option for communities to make groups in where you can share similar interests MOST OF THESE ARE DEAD BUT WE CAN BRING THEM BACK!!! (IM BEGGING)

5: The bios are unlimited ( I think ), I copy and pasted the entire Bee Movie script three times along with my own bio that was already in there. I’m always pissed when I have to trim my bio, so bitches who like to put everything in their bio this website is for YOU

6: It’s in chronological order. Everything. You can even look up when certain posts where made by year, month, even fucking day. The archives of Flickr are so fucking fun.

7: Its not a contest. The main reason as to why I fucking hate Instagram (other than they took away chronological order and being able to see the recents under a tag) is that it focuses too much on “#aesthetic” even on the casual Instagram side people are still posing and trying to make an aesthetic of it. Flickr is just for photos you like, which yes can be aesthetic, but it’s mainly for daily life. You will see older people just posting what they are working on, maybe a cat they saw at the store, nothing planned. Just a quick unprompted click.

8: Organization, Flickr let’s you have Albums which is where you can organize all your photos in much like Pinterest. Most do it by year but others do it by topic too.

9: You can upload photos in bulk. You don’t have to upload them one by one, or at a limit of ten, you can upload a FUCK ton of photos at once.

10: if you don’t like ads and want more storage space, the pro version is extremely cheap compared to Netflix. Netflix without ads is fucking $15.49 and Flickr is $8.25 a month. There are also two other payment plans if that’s still too much for you.

11: It allowed adult content. In like. Every form. Enough said

CONS

1: You can’t DM (this is not a con to me and I hate when people complain about this just fucking use a email it is so fun to email people please for the love of god)

2: You can only upload 1,000 images before you run out of space. (You can always delete images later, I personally like to delete images at new years for a fresh start and archive them somewhere else)

3: it’s dead. No one really uses it.

4: to upload your bio you have to use a desktop version of the app.

THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE SWITCH TO FLICKR AND SHARE THIS SO WE CAN START TO REVIVE OLD PLATFORMS TO SAVE THEM TO REBEL AGAINST META AND THIS NEW AGE OF CREATING SOCIAL MEDIA APPS AND SHIT

[wreckmetoji]

idfc

An ongoing fic in which you don't realize you have both Fushiguros at your feet.

↳ Toji Fushiguro/Reader

Part 4/?

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 5

content warning. age gap, mention of sex, mild breeding kink if you squint, afab reader, profanity, slight angst, unrequited love, nobara being a supportive friend, mentions of domestic toji

This is part four of a several part story revolving around smut. **Minors DNI**

1.5k words

What can I say, I live to please. Besides..." "You ain't seen nothin' yet." 4:03 am is what the clock read by the time you had settled into your bed for some much needed, actual sleep. Toji had thoroughly fucked you over nearly every surface in your house that night, leaving no part of you untouched. By the third round, you had nearly lost all feeling in your legs and angry bruises were spotting the surface of your neck, thighs, and hips, the occasional hickey littering your chest. That didn't seem to stop the two of you from going another two rounds after that. What surprised you even more than his stamina, was the fact that he lay beside you in your bed, arm lazily draped over you as he slept silently. In all honesty, you had expected him to leave the moment he was done with you, recalling him saying at some point that this was just him throwing you a line, a simple no-feelings-attached fling to get your mind off the mistake you'd made the night before. For the most part, it worked, but some part of you felt disgusted with yourself for what transpired. When you woke up in the morning, Toji was gone. He had the courtesy to at least plug your phone in and place it on your bedside table, as well as lock your front door. How did he do that? Not seeing your phone for more than twenty-four hours meant you had a lot of messages and calls to catch up with, your chest squeezing slightly seeing that the most recent one had been a missed call and text at 2:47 am. It was from Megumi. By that point in the night, you were sure Toji had you bent over the railing on your balcony, but it was all hazy by this point. That same part of you that felt guilty for what, or rather who, you'd been doing all night is the part of you that texted Nobara first. Incoming call... "Nobara Kugisaki" "WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN, BITCH?!" Nobara screeched into the line, causing you to hold the phone at an arms length away as she hurled several choice insults at you. "We thought you were dead, no one's been in contact with you since you and Megumi left the bar," She chastised once she managed to calm down. "I know, I'm sorry. Some shit happened and... promise to keep a secret?" You whispered into the line, as if someone might be listening. You trusted Nobara with your life, Yuuji too but that boy couldn't keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it. So you entrusted your drunken mistake with your mutual best friend to her, and her only. "I was wondering when he was gonna make a move," She sounded so nonchalant, as if everyone but you had expected this. "He's had a thing for you ever since our last year of high school. You didn’t know?" Her words made your stomach churn. Megumi had been secretly pining for years, and you went and fucked his dad. "That still doesn't explain where you've been since you got home, did you go into a coma?" "I was... busy." Nobara gasped, your name falling from her lips in shock. "No shit. Rebound, who was it?" You both loved and loathed that she could see through you so easily. You two couldn't keep anything from each other. How could you tell her this without making it sound as bad as it actually was? "He brought my phone over, and I was just in a really bad place emotionally..." The line was silent. "It was his dad. It was Toji." Unsurprisingly to you, Nobara was more intrigued than disgusted, considering anyone and everyone that went to the Fushiguro household thirsted for Megumi's hot, ripped dad. Although she had a lack of interest in men, she asked the obligatory spill the beans, what was it like? It took nearly ten minutes of just you talking to explain everything that happened, in as little detail as possible. "So that man banged you on every piece of furniture you own and turned you into his personal cum-stuffed twinkie?" Don't make it sound so crude. "More or less, yeah." "I don't see whats wrong with that. Just don't let Megumi know, he already hates his dad." You hadn't planned on it. Nobara and you caught up for another minute or two while you got changed, hanging up when she had to leave for her extra curricular classes. Now left with your thoughts, you sighed, wandering into your kitchen aimlessly. You cursed every couple steps because holy shit your legs hurt. Deciding it was too straining to stand, you sat at your kitchen island, your head in one hand as the other held your phone, your conversation with Megumi opened. [10:20pm]Gumi: I'm sorry.

[10:22pm]Gumi: There were better times to tell you how I feel, this is my fault.

[11:09pm]Gumi: You're the most important person in my life. Just know that no matter how you feel, I'll always be here.

[2:47am Missed call]

[2:47am]Gumi: I'll give you your space. Take care of yourself, please.

Shaky fingers hovered over the keyboard of your phone, nausea building up in your gut. You were about to put your phone down, leave it for later, before the three dots popped up, letting you know he was typing. He must've seen your read receipts.

[. . .]

[9:56am]Gumi: Thank god you're safe

[9:57am]Gumi: Can I call?

The call notification popped up before you could even send the message you'd typed out.

Incoming call... "Gumi Bear"

Your thumb hovered over answer, hesitating for just a moment before answering and bringing the phone up to your ear. You could hear the concern in his voice when he whispered your name into the receiver, a guilty knot twisting in your gut. "You don't have to say anything, I was just worried about you." There was a click on the other end, followed by some rustling. "You left so quickly, I was gonna come bring your phone but... it was probably best that I gave you some space. When my dad didn't come home I assumed it's 'cause he couldn't find you." A long sigh came from him, but your brows furrowed. Toji still wasn't home? The sound of your balcony door sliding open made you jump out of your skin, having to slap a hand over your mouth to prevent from screaming right into the receiver. From the phone you could hear Megumi calling your name, hearing the sudden commotion, completely unaware of the brief staring contest you had with the tall man stopped mid-step into your house, cigarettes and lighter in one of his hands, the balcony handle in the other. Both your eyes were wide, seeming to surprise each other. Had he been out there this entire time? "H...Hey, sorry, I... a spider, I saw a huge spider and it scared me." Mentally face-palming at your sorry excuse for your outburst. Toji seemed to find it entertaining as well, chuckling to himself as he slid the door closed. Megumi was silent for a moment, but ultimately accepted the explanation. He continued, promising he'd only take a minute of your time. You couldn't hear anything he was saying over the pounding of your heart as it leapt in your throat, watching Toji slide his shoes off and stride over to the kitchen, the flat of his palm brushing the small of your back as he passed by. "Let's just forget this happened, we can start over. Okay?" His voice dropped in tone, obviously hurt by the decision. "I think... I'd like that, yeah." There was a brief silence. "Okay, well," Megumi breathed in deeply, "That's all I wanted to say. I'll let you go. Text me if you need anything." A noise of affirmation came from your throat, the line going dead soon after. Small hands placed the phone face down on the countertop, hands overlapping on top of your phone as you stared up at Toji through your lashes. He didn't ask who called. The rest of your morning was spent with Toji, not much was said. It wasn't awkward, it was a surprisingly comfortable silence, for the most part. He'd made coffee and toast, his capabilities of displaying qualities of domesticity surprising you to say the least. The kitchen clock read 1:02 pm when he said he'd be leaving and you walked him to the door. As the two of you stood in the doorway, you found yourself unable to piece together the right words swimming in your head. Toji seemed patient, smirking with his hands stuffed into his sweatpants pockets as he faced you, back to the apartment hallway. "Well, um..." All night, and you decide to be awkward now?! "Thanks for everything, I guess?" You extended a hand, offering it to Toji for a handshake. The action made him snort, one hand coming out of the pocket of his soft cotton pants and placing it in the dip of your waist. Firmly, he tugged you closer to him, leaving a searing kiss on your lips. It was as fiery as it was short. He left you dumbfounded when he parted not a second later, waving as he walked down the hall. "Let's do this again soon."

[winterscaptain]

advocate.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: the very first part of ajf! the beginning of our story! oh my goodness! this got a little long, but there was a lot i wanted to pack in here. thank you all for your patience as i worked through this <3 i’ve got some fun graphics in here for you - open them for best quality!

words: 8.45k warnings: language, alcohol use, canon-typical descriptions of injury and violence, mention of suicide

summary: “our ambition should be to rule ourselves, the true kingdom for each one of us; and true progress is to know more, and be more, and to do more.” - oscar wilde. au!july-september 2007

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

“Director Shepard?” 

You approach her, feeling very young, with a question and a smile. 

She turns, smiling at you softly. “Yes?”

Her lecture was immaculate - she covered a broad swath of topics - being the first female director of NCIS, her history in international relations and liaison work with British and Israeli intelligence - all of which paved a bit of a roadmap for success in federal law enforcement. 

You introduce yourself and shake her hand. “I’ve gotta tell you it was a challenge to choose between agencies in my applications, I admire your work both as an agent and director of NCIS and I was wondering…” 

You lose your nerve a bit, but steel yourself again and ask. 

“... Would you be willing to meet with me and talk about your career trajectory a little more?”

There’s a light in her eyes as she studies you with a kind of supreme benevolence and gentleness. “I would.” 

+++

“Alright,” she says, setting her napkin in her lap. “What do you want to know?” 

You laugh a little, “Is everything a good place to start?”

She laughs, and you’re immediately drawn to her warmth. There’s a kind of fire in her, and it doesn’t just come from her hair. “Not at all. Though I’ll give you some unsolicited advice now, to save some time. Find someone you can follow, someone you can learn from.”

She goes on to tell you about her mentor, still on the Major Case Response Team under her purview at NCIS. Though she’s his boss now, she tells you that she still goes to him for advice, for friendship. 

“Trusting the people you work with always comes first. It’s not always possible, but when you can manage it. It makes everything better. Always protect them where you can, and don’t ignore the politics”

You do everything except take notes as she tells more stories, how she’s switched from “probie” to Agent to diplomat to Director, before she turns back to you. 

“Do you know which unit you’re interested in, yet?” 

You shake your head. “Not yet. I’m hoping I’ll have a better idea when the Quantico unit chiefs start coming in to lecture. I’m hoping one of them will catch my interest.”

“Great idea. When one of them does, give me a call. I think any unit could benefit from someone like you.”

+++

Agents Hotchner, Morgan, and Gideon have your attention the moment they step into the room. They’re confident, with a sharp kind of intelligence you admire. 

The world of the BAU is fascinating. Serial killers, sex criminals, the very worst of depraved humanity is their everyday. While it sounds somewhat horrifying, it compels you. 

Agent Hotchner especially catches your attention. He’s confident in a kind of serious, bladed way. Clearly intelligent, he commands the attention of everyone in the room and effortlessly wields his authority among curious students and his fellow agents. 

You’d think Agent Gideon would be the obvious leader, what with all his years of experience and seniority, but even with his grasp of a field he shaped, he doesn’t hold a candle to Hotchner. 

With your half-hour-old knowledge, you put together a quick profile of the remaining figure. 

Agent Morgan, while strong and clearly an alpha male, brings a skepticism with him. It hangs in the air around him and seems to apply to both of his colleagues. There’s something about Agent Gideon that makes him uneasy, distrustful. He tends to shift his weight away from him when they get too close to each other. 

He’s not overt about his skepticism regarding Agent Hotchner, but you get the idea there’s more under the surface you couldn’t possibly know just by studying his behavior in a lecture hall. 

This is fun. 

You hide your smile in your notebook, jotting down a couple of notes as Agent Gideon continues his “brief overview of profile-driven serial killer arrests.” 

+++. 

“Director Shepard’s office.”

“Hi Cynthia,” you greet her secretary. “Is Director Shepard in?”

She connects you, and you ask about the BAU. 

“Is Jason Gideon still the unit chief over there?” She asks. You can already hear her typing and you’re more than a little concerned about her tenacity in this moment. 

“No, ma’am, it’s Agent Hotchner, now.”

“Perfect.”

+++

+++

You’re called into SSA Radner’s office the following Monday to “discuss some changes to your academy courses.” 

That doesn’t sound good. 

SSA Radner, an imposing and intimidating woman, is the SSAIC in charge of your NAT class - the person in charge of your collective fates. 

No pressure. 

She opens the door when you knock, gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk. “Please, have a seat.” 

You chuckle nervously. “Thanks, Agent Radner.” You note her little smile as she sits at her desk, and chance a question. “Have I done something, I dunno, wrong? We don’t seem to find much good news in the SAIC’s office at my rank.” 

That pulls a laugh from her. “I wouldn't worry too much. I have a proposition for you. It’s...unusual, but not unheard of.” 

Your brow crumples a little and she exhales. 

“It might actually be better if - yeah. Hold on.” She clicks her intercom and her assistant chirps from the other side. 

“Yes ma’am?”

“Please send them in. I’d like to do a joint briefing.” 

Joint briefing? What is this, the third invasion of Iraq?

The door opens behind you and you whip around, finding Agent Hotchner and IOS Section Chief Erin Strauss. 

What the fuck? 

Either you’ve done something terrible or insane and you’re not sure which. 

Chief Strauss addresses you first, shaking your hand. You introduce yourself for good measure but have a feeling she already knows who you are. 

“It’s come to our attention that you have ambitious interests and are taking exceptional steps to make the most of your education and training at the academy. Is this a fair assessment?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Agent Hotchner steps forward, sort of looming over you with something that isn’t quite a stern look. You take his hand when he offers, introducing yourself and ignoring the jolt of energy that shoots up your arm at his touch. 

His handshake is firm, his hands dry and warm. He looks different up close, younger, maybe. There’s the barest touch of grey at his temples, the beginnings of lines around his mouth and eyes. 

Not what I expected.

What did you expect? 

How old could he be? Thirty-five, maybe? 

Shut up. 

He’s handsome. 

Shut up!

His face relaxes a little bit before he speaks. “Director Shepard, a close professional colleague, has been a staunch advocate for you and your talents. She approached me about taking you on, giving you case hours in lieu of some coursework.” 

“You’d have some catching up to do, as it’s already three weeks into your twenty, and we’d transfer you into the profiling classes,” Agent Radner adds. “But with your diligence, I doubt you’ll have trouble with the added workload.” 

“No, ma’am. That should be fine. But,” you look between the three of them, “what does ‘case hours in lieu of some coursework’ mean, exactly?” 

“You’d be on assignment with the BAU until you received your formal assignment following successful completion of the academy, with the possibility of assignment with the BAU as a full-fledged agent.” Chief Strauss rattles off the information as if it’s the thousandth time she’s said it. 

It might be. 

You can’t even fathom how much effort and time must have gone into this decision. The realization leaves you speechless. 

She prompts you again. “Does that sound like an opportunity in which you’d be interested?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” You feel a little stupid, but you’re rewarded with a proud smile from Agent Radner. 

You could also swear you saw a twitch of Agent Hotchner’s lips, but he doesn’t seem to be a man who smiles much. 

+++

“So this’ll be your desk,” Agent Jennifer-but-my-friends-call-me-JJ Jareau says, pointing to one of the many desks in the bullpen. 

You set your bag down with a little smile, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. 

Agent Morgan pats your shoulder as he passes your desk. “You’ll do just fine, kid. Ready for a case briefing in ten?” 

“Sure.”

His blinding smile eats up his whole face and you like him already. He’s different than you thought he’d be, but you still don’t think your preliminary profile was too far off.

Agent Gideon, still holed up in his office, has yet to acknowledge you. 

Your eyes keep wandering to the open blinds, behind which Agent Hotchner and a woman you understand to be his wife have a quiet, apparently heated argument on either side of his desk. Except for the tight set of her mouth and the angry glint in her eye, she seems lovely. 

Derek follows your gaze. “Wasn’t always like that.” 

You look at him, a little furrow in your brow. 

Should he be telling me this?

“She’s not always here either, but their son, Jack, has been sick, so it’s been… tense.” Derek shakes his head. “You wouldn’t catch me married in this job, not once.” 

That pulls a laugh from you. 

Emily, sitting at the desk beside you, turns in her chair. “Remind me to drink to that later.” 

Derek snorts and picks up a couple of files, headed up to the round table room. 

+++

Your first case briefing is, well...brief. The case seems fairly straightforward and you run through relevant vocabulary while JJ outlines the case details. 

Preferential offender, keeps his victims for no more than three days, victims found in public places. 

He wants them found, and fast. 

Need-based, maybe? What are his priors? 

You’re all dismissed with a brisk, “Wheels up in thirty.” 

You pack your things a little slower than probably called for. Hotch disappears into his office again, closing the door behind him. When you pass the window, his wife is tucked under his chin. 

Hotch’s eyes flicker to yours and you quickly train your gaze on the floor, hustling down the stairs. 

+++

You land next to each other when you board the plane. You do your best to avoid taking anyone's assigned seat. 

With a team of this size, you can only assume they have such things.

And they do. 

Gideon, Spencer, Morgan, and Prentiss take a seat at the table while JJ perches on the arm of the couch. 

Hotch settles at the informal “head” of the table, leaning on the chairs across the aisle. You take a seat in one of the chairs in the row next to him, trying to stay out of the way. 

“C’mere, kid,” Derek says, beckoning you forward. “You’re on this team.” 

You shuffle forward in your seat, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees and case file open in your hands. “I’m ready.” 

JJ smiles at you, and you almost feel comfortable. 

+++

You end up alone with Hotch in the precinct conference room after you land, unboxing files and sorting them for Spencer. Until you know enough to make yourself useful, you’ve made it your mission to handle the tedious and the clerical. 

Hotch pauses every once in a while as if he wants to say something. You continue on your way. When he’s ready, he’ll stop you. 

“I’m sorry about earlier. My wife, Haley, she -” 

You look up, waving him off with a little smile. “It’s okay, Hotch. It’s none of my business.” 

He looks at you for a minute, studying your face with a bit of a squint. “You mean that.” 

It’s not a question. 

You’re confused. 

“Of course.” A nervous laugh leaves you. “I mean, you’re welcome to tell me if you want, but it’s nothing I need to speculate or gossip about or, God forbid, profile.” 

The shock and relief war on his face until it settles back into something that looks like his usual severity, but a little softer. He doesn't say anything else, but you have the sneaking suspicion you passed a test neither one of you prepared for. 

Spencer and Emily return from their trip to the medical examiner’s office. 

“Who organized these?” Spencer asks, pointing at the neat piles you made. 

“Me.” You look up from another box you’re working on. “Would it be helpful if they’re sorted another way? I went chronologically and then by number and type of offenses, with preferential offenders that match the M.O. on top, when possible.” 

Emily, Hotch, and Spencer freeze, staring at you like you grew another head in front of them. 

You’re suddenly and violently self-conscious. “What?”

Spencer snaps out of it first, shaking his head and picking up a stack. “Nothing that’s just...um…”

“Exactly right,” Emily supplies. She glances at Hotch before looking back at you. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” 

Hotch is the last to break, but the curious little glances he keeps throwing your way always linger a little too long. 

To your credit, you ignore them. 

+++

“So, how are you liking it so far?” Derek slides into the driver’s seat and rolls out of the parking lot. 

You’re headed to another witness’s house under direct orders to observe and as a few (carefully directed) questions. Derek insisted on bringing you himself while the others keep busy with something else. 

“I’m liking it,” you reply. 

He laughs. “Coulda fooled me.” 

You screw up your face and look over at him. “What do you mean?” 

“Well,” he says through a laugh, “when you’re not making yourself ridiculously useful, you look terrified.” 

“I am terrified.” 

“Nothin’ to be scared of as long as you keep asking questions,” he says. 

It’s almost like he doesn’t know how ridiculous he sounds. 

“You’re joking, right?” You turn to face him, shifting in your seat. “Agent Morgan -” 

He cuts you off. You’re pretty sure that’s just how he is - he interrupts the other members of the team frequently and fearlessly. “- Derek. Or Morgan.” 

“Fine. Morgan, you have to know that your team is legendary. I don’t even know why -”

“- Don’t say it.” He flags his hand before putting it back on the wheel. “You’re here for a reason, and none of us are going to let you fall so hard you can’t pick yourself up, okay?” He glances over, meeting your eyes. “We’ve got your back.” 

You quirk a smile. “Thanks.” 

“And,” he adds, “Hotch seems to like you alright. That’s half the battle.” 

“What’s the other half?” 

He snorts. “Gideon. And local law enforcement.” 

+++

You settle in a little easier after that. JJ’s your next target as you help her make some calls to the D.A.’s office. 

You hang up and take a breath, slumping back in your chair. It’s been a long day already and it’s not even lunchtime. 

“Hanging in there?” JJ asks, smiling at you over her files. 

You nod. “Yeah. Just a… different kind of energy than the academy, I think.” 

“I felt that way when I got here, too. Gideon was unit chief back then and Spence had just started, too.” She huffs a laugh. “It was a little easier when there were more newbies, but then…” Her face clouds over and she shakes her head. 

“Then...what?” 

She looks up at you and her mouth twists. “Boston.” 

+++

“Hey, Derek?” 

“Yeah?” He keeps his eyes on the road, but he can hear the trepidation in your voice. 

The dark interior of the car feels safe in the early hours of the morning, headed back to the hotel. “You said I could ask you anything, right?” 

His eyebrows pinch. “Shoot.”

“What happened in Boston?” 

Derek takes a breath and lets it out in a whoosh. “I wasn’t there. I was supposed to be there.” 

You wait on him, watching him watch the road. 

“Unsub holed himself up in a massive warehouse. Gideon called in all the support he could - A Team, B Team, SWAT, the whole nine. I was visiting my mom in Chicago for her birthday like I do every year.” 

He stops at a red light, and you take a moment to look past him into the adjacent SUV, where Emily and Hotch’s profiles rest in a statuesque silhouette, backlit by the streetlamp. 

“It was a trap from the start. Everyone pushed in on Gideon’s order and the whole thing just…” He tosses his hand up and it lands with a smack on the leather steering wheel. “It just went up. Boom. Six BAU agents in our unit, dead, just like that. Had to rebuild from scratch.” 

You shiver, though the car is warm. “I’m so sorry, Derek.” 

He shrugs. “Gideon took six months off, Hotch took over. Gideon came back, Hotch stayed up front.” He smiles a little. “Haley wasn’t happy, but that’s the job.” 

Why does it always come back to Haley? To Hotch? 

Because he’s the unit chief. 

I know but…

Don’t read into it. 

You decide to push, just because it’s Derek, because he seems to know, because you feel safe with him, because it might be a mistake. “Is that what you meant?”

“Hm?” His head turns just a little toward you, his brow furrowed. 

“You told me on my first day ‘It wasn’t always like this.’ Is that what you meant?”

“No sane man would take on the unit chief position with a wife and baby on the way.” He shrugs and with a secret little smile says, “But nobody ever accused Hotch of being sane.” 

+++

Aaron sits in front of his computer, the end of his pen tapping on the glossy wood of his desk. 

Does he have feedback? He’s not sure. 

Even with your limited knowledge, you’ve managed to optimize most of the administrative bullshit and political nonsense that clogs most local investigations. You bounce between acting as his shadow and JJ’s, making friends and soothing hurts when toes inevitably get stepped on. 

You’ve immediately adapted to his style of criticism and correction, using Derek and Spencer as guide-rails when you’re not sure where you’re going. 

There’s nothing to complain about. 

But then again…

Feedback isn’t just about the negative. 

If he’s honest with himself, he knows he won’t shower you in the glowing praise you deserve. Gideon never did for him or anyone that came after. 

It’s not in their nature, or his. 

He starts to type. 

Glancing out his office window, his eyes find you hunched over your desk, poring over one of Spencer’s notebooks, a pinch in your brow as deep as the Grand Canyon. 

You work hard, impossibly hard. You throw everything you have at your work in the field while managing your courses and keeping up with your classmates. 

That in mind, he drafts an email to Jenny. 

With a sigh, he sends it.

He’s still thinking of what you said on the last case, the genuine truth of it, and how many times he has done his best to preempt the gossip that plagues this office, no matter who it’s about. 

This unit, as much of a family as it may be, constantly wraps itself in the business of everyone else. To know you couldn’t give less of a shit about his marriage when the rest of the team (save Gideon) probably has money on when Haley calls it quits is, admittedly, refreshing. 

+++

After being in the field, classes take on a new kind of banality. You’re keeping up well enough, but watching Gideon and Derek quarrel over the details of a profile beats diving into the techniques - you guessed it - Gideon developed from cases past. 

Hotch and Garcia were gracious enough to CC you on emails while you were grounded at the academy, but it wasn’t the same. 

It was hard not to feel left behind, like the last kid chosen for dodgeball in PE class, watching the rest of the unit leave the office. You hung back in the bullpen as long as you could find something to do this morning, making it to class at the very last minute. 

Even after lectures, your classmates want nothing more than your attention. You’re suddenly consulting on three different practicals and never have a lunch to yourself.

Most afternoons, you sneak into the bullpen just for some peace and quiet. 

You hear your last name and look up, finding Erin Strauss approaching you. You stand. “Ma’am.”

“What are you working on?”

You look down at your desk, finding practical and theoretical exam notes shuffled around next to mock consults and other nonsense Hotch dropped on his way to the jet earlier in the week. “Course work, mostly. It’s nice to… get away every once in a while.”

Erin nods with a little smile. “I’d imagine you’ve been pretty popular lately.”

You shrug, a little facetious. “You could say that.”

She pays your shoulder in a surprisingly maternal gesture, before wishing you luck and leaving you to your work. 

At this point, you can’t even imagine just being an FBI agent. 

+++

You’ve just closed your burning, tired eyes when your phone rings. 

You answer, your last name a grumble into the mic. 

“It’s Hotch.”

You sit up straight in bed, immediately awake. “Sorry, sir, I -“

“I should apologize. I don’t mean to interrupt your studying or wake you but I think I could use your opinion on this profile.”

You frown in the dark, flipping your desk lamp on. “My help, sir?”

“Yeah.”  He heaves a sigh and you can almost see the fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been looking at it too long.”

“Maybe Derek, can -“

“No. You. Here, listen -“

He rattles off the details of the case and you snatch your notebook and pen off the desk, jotting things down as Hotch continues through the case. 

“Have you identified and contacted local individuals who fit the victimology, taken steps to protect them? He’s a preferential offender with a predictable cooling-off period, right?” 

For some reason, this isn’t half as exhausting as the practical exam practice you’d been working on for the last five hours. You may or may not have written those exact questions about fifteen times, but it’s far less exhausting when directed at Hotch. 

“Yeah. Two high-risk victims are in protective custody and JJ’s been in touch since this morning.”

You go through a few more basic questions, getting your feet under you, before asking the one you’re really after. 

“Sir, why did you call me?”

“I needed another set of eyes.”

You huff a laugh. “No, I gathered that, but why did you call me? I’m in the middle of learning about something you’ve been doing for…” You search for a number, but your brain is fried. 

“Too long,” he supplies. 

“Sure. But my point stands.”

“That it does.” Something creaks in the background and you imagine he’s leaned back in his chair. 

“Did I help?” You’re happy he can’t see your dubious, if not entirely doubtful, expression. 

He’s happy you can’t see the little fond smile on his face. “Yes, actually. You did.”

+++

“Wheels up in thirty.” 

You all stand from the table and start your routines. Emily and Spencer make a beeline for the coffee machine while JJ jets back to her office for contact sheets and files and all manner of coordinating materials. 

Derek’s routine is simple enough - he already has his coffee and his go bag, so he’s answering a few emails before wheels up. 

You never really know what to do during this liminal space, so you stick to classwork. 

Much to your surprise, you’ve shot ahead in your classes on the shoulders of Derek and Spencer. They’ve been monumentally helpful with the history and application of profiling techniques (though much of Derek’s advice has been ‘just watch Gideon,’ you’re not sure how to watch a process that takes place entirely inside the man’s head). 

You ride with Hotch to the airstrip, looking out the window most of the way. It’s only a five minute drive, but the tree-lined roads around Quantico are always lovely this time of the morning. 

As always, you do your best to stay out of the way on the plane, taking up residence on Hotch’s right with your notebook and case file. 

You offer some thoughts here and there, not pushing too much or saying enough to make an ass of yourself. 

When Hotch calls break, the rest of the team scatters to their respective corners. 

Gideon turns to you, gesturing with one finger. “Hey, ah…” 

Spencer chirps your last name from across the cabin and you shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Good job in the briefing, today.” 

And with that, he disappears to the far side of the cabin, leaving you and Hotch alone by the table. 

“Wow,” you say with a little smile. “I didn’t know he was aware of my existence.” 

Hotch doesn’t say anything, but his lips twitch. 

Success. 

+++

“Welcome back, kiddo!” Derek offers you fist and you bump your knuckles against his on your way back to your desk. “How’d those exams go?”

You huff, playing at defeat. “Oh, you know.” 

“Don’t worry about it. There’s always next time.” 

Hotch, returning from a meeting with Strauss, hardly looks up from the file in his hand when he says, “Well done on your exams. SSA Radner threatened to hang your marksmanship targets on her wall.” 

You hide a smile. “Thanks, Hotch.” 

“Not fair!” Spencer says, tossing another Tums in his mouth. “I never passed those.” 

“Then how on earth do you have that, Reid?” You point at his six-shooter, still clipped to his hip. 

“Wait wait wait,” JJ says, dropping her files and crossing her arms. “You haven’t heard that story?” 

Your eyes flicker from Derek, to JJ, to Spencer, and back. “...No.”

JJ settles in, regaling you with a wild tale of an L.D.S.K. - 

“You remember what that stands for, right?” Derek points at you and you have a feeling this is about to become some kind of pop quiz. 

“Yeah. Long Distance Serial Killer.” 

“Good. Famous unsubs include…?” 

You sit back in your chair with a little smirk on your face. “D.C. Snipers Muhammad and Malvo, active October 2002, seventeen victims total. Apprehended by agents from the FBI Baltimore field office -” 

Derek holds up a finger. “And?”

“- and the BAU and the Maryland State Police.” 

“Good.” 

JJ waits for Derek to nod at her and she continues what you imagine to be a rather embellished version of a story in which Hotch and Reid save the day.

“...And then Hotch just starts kicking the shit out of Spencer -” 

Hotch’s office door shuts and he sails down the stairs with one of those little secret smiles. “This one ends with Reid stealing my sidearm and shooting the unsub in the head.” He taps right between his eyebrows in the barest of pauses on his way out of the bullpen. “Dead center.” 

Derek and JJ groan, both whining about how he ruined the punchline before devolving into a fit of giggles. You can almost see the smirk on his face as he pushes through the glass door and turns the corner. 

You join in the mirth, ruffling Reid’s hair. He smiles widely at you. 

Maybe you could just get used to this place.   

+++

The second round of classes on top of added case hours (you’re traveling with the unit more often than not) nearly brings you to the brink. 

On the plane back to Quantico, you realize you can’t remember the last time you actually had a full night of sleep. 

The rest of the unit is out cold, curled into themselves or stretched out under blankets, save for Hotch and Gideon. 

Gideon’s writing in that wretched notebook again, entirely focused on his work under the weak reading light. 

Aaron sits beside you on the other side of the cabin, looking over a few files before returning home. You watch him check his watch, sigh, shrug, and pull out his phone. To your surprise, he doesn’t move to give himself space as he calls his wife. 

“Hey, honey, it’s me… Yeah, we’re on the plane. Should be back within the next hour and a half... “ 

He sighs and tightly closes his eyes. “Haley, please… Yes, I know Jack’s already asleep… Are you implying I didn’t do my damnedest to - Then what’s your point?...” 

His voice never once rises above a low murmur. It’s impressive.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can… No, I won’t pass ‘Go’ or collect two-hundred dollars or step foot into my office… Yes. Plane. Tarmac. Car. Home… Yeah… Love you too.” 

He snaps his phone shut and leans back, tipping his head against the headrest.  

You stay quiet, continuing your review of S.S.A. Bailey’s course on, ironically, conflict de-escalation. 

Hotch takes a talking breath and you look over at him, keeping a kind of soft understanding on your face - really, shooting for anything that isn’t curiosity. 

“I appreciate your…” He looks for a word. “Discretion.” 

You laugh a little down your nose. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s none of my business?”

“How many times do I have to imply that a phrase like that isn’t in the vocabulary of this team, usually?” He shifts a little, and you notice his thumb, running along his forefinger like he’s searching for bone. 

“Is it really that bad?”

Hotch raises his eyebrows, and you relent. 

“Fine.” You drop your voice. “Do you want to know what I’ve seen?”

He shrugs. “An outside perspective might be nice.” 

You keep your eyes on your book as you speak, keeping your volume low and your tone as neutral as you can. 

“I’ve seen how Emily worries about fitting in - I can’t help but relate. This team is a family and it’s… hard to break through that sort-of-wall to the outside world.” 

The prickly feeling of his eyes on you isn’t altogether unpleasant, but you still haven’t grown used to it. 

“Derek and Spencer are worried about Gideon and,” you glance at him briefly, “so are you. Everyone seems to want to know why, but I don't think that’s always useful.” 

Hotch hums once, maybe in agreement - you’re not too sure. 

You are sure, though, that this was a test. 

“How’d I do, Counselor?”

It’s never too early to invoke the J.D. hanging in a frame behind his desk. It was the first thing you noticed and suddenly, a lot more made sense. 

You’re rewarded with a small smile. “Not bad. Though you did forget to drop in the little bit about my marriage.” 

“I didn’t forget,” you assure him.

“No?” 

“No. I figure if you have something to say, you seem like the kind of person who’d just say it. At least,” you shrug, “that’s my impression.” 

He’s quiet for a minute before he squints and looks over your shoulder at your reading. His brown eyes track down the page before returning to yours. He’s close to you, but you’re not uncomfortable. 

Hotch is...safe. Somehow. 

“There’s a reason you’re the exception. Not sure what it is yet,” he says. “But there’s a reason.” 

“What?” 

He leans back, a cryptic little smile on his face, and says nothing else for the rest of the flight.

+++

“Hotch, are you sure it’s not a trick question?” 

“The questions aren’t designed to trick you,” comes a voice from the doorway. To your surprise, it’s Gideon. “They’re designed to stretch and reveal your instincts. No right answer.” 

The corners of his mouth turn down while his eyebrows rise in that kind of halfway-encouraging look he sometimes gets. “Just go with your gut.” 

He disappears and you turn back to Hotch, scribbling away in a file. 

“He’s right.” 

Your brain feels less and less bound to your body as the days pass. “Am I nuts, or is that the most words he’s strung together since I got here, combined?” 

What you now know to be a smile twitches at Hotch’s mouth. “You’re not nuts.” 

You sigh and turn your attention back to your mock exam, twiddling your pencil between your fingers. “I’m sorry to keep bugging you with homework - it feels like cheating.” 

He pulls his phone from his pocket. “Resourcefulness is not cheating. If it was, I’d have to go back and get my J.D. out of a Cracker Jack box.” 

You muffle a laugh.

He checks his watch. “I have a check-in with the budget office in five minutes. You’re welcome to stay right where you are, but it’ll be boring and I plan to do a lot of pacing.” 

You hold your hands up in surrender and settle in. 

Friday afternoons in the office feel a lot like Saturdays in the office - which is to say, nothing happens at all. The rest of the team is catching up on paperwork while Gideon walks laps with his little notebook. 

Not three minutes into his conversation, Hotch stands and begins to pace, as promised. 

"No, we can't cut the technology budget... Because if the BAU gets called to a remote region, we need to have immediate access to satellite phones and our technical analyst… Yes… Send the budget to the Director, and I'm certain it'll come back approved without changes… The arrest and prosecution rate of this unit is -” 

His desk phone rings and he gestures for you to pick it up. 

“Agent Hotchner’s office,” you say with more than a little trepidation. You’re definitely not qualified to answer the unit chief’s phone. 

“Goddamn it, Aaron why can’t you -” She pauses. “Wait. Sorry. Who is this?” 

You introduce yourself. “I’m currently on-assignment with the unit. It’s… unconventional.” 

“Hm. Why are you answering Aaron’s phone?” Her tone isn’t accusatory - it’s more curious than that. You’d imagine this doesn’t happen all that often. He’s either at his desk, or he’s not at his desk. 

She calls him Aaron. 

You’re not sure why that surprises you. They’re married, and he has a first name. 

Taking a look across the room, you watch Hotch’s profile as he continues to defend the budget he submitted. 

Aaron. 

You make an attempt to see the man behind the suit, the man who goes home to his wife and son when he can. 

“I’m using his office to study for my academy exams. I’ll see if I can reach Agent Hotchner for you. Just a second.”

She snorts something that could be a laugh if it wasn’t so sharp. “Thanks.” 

Hotch looks over and squints at you, mouthing, Who is it? 

You put her on hold and answer in a stage whisper. “It’s your wife.”

Hotch freezes for just a second - it almost looks like he’s rebooting. 

He blinks three times in rapid succession before he pulls the phone away from his mouth. “Tell her I’m in a meeting. I’ll call her back.” You move to reach for the phone but he holds up a finger and you freeze. “Wait two minutes.”

You follow instructions, taking the time to answer a few more mock exam questions. You try not to think too hard about his avoidance. This doesn’t seem like a particularly pressing phone call - Hotch is in budget meetings all the time. 

None of your business. 

After about a minute and a half, you pick up the phone again. 

Before you can say anything, she’s already back on her mini-rampage. About twenty seconds in, she pauses. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m still not talking to my husband, am I?”

De-escalate. Disarm. Establish rapport. 

You can do this. 

You channel Derek, using a softer tone designed to distract. Maybe you’ll sneak some humor in there, if you can manage it. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hotchner, he’s not available.” 

With a defeated sigh, she asks, flatly, “Where is he?” 

Humor. Play off her disappointment. 

“I assume he’s in a meeting or something - he likes to think he’s very important - but I can’t find him.” 

To your surprise, she laughs a little. 

You check with Hotch across the room. He rolls his eyes at you but continues his bickering. 

Success. 

“Can you just… I don’t know… Tell him I called, or something?” 

You try not to think too hard about the defeat in her tone. “I promise I’ll badger him to call you back as soon as he’s back at his desk, ma’am.”

“Wow.” She sounds impressed, and you’re not sure why. You’re not left in suspense for long. She continues - 

“You’re a way better liar than JJ. Also - please don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old. Haley’s just fine.” 

“Of course.” 

“You know what…” She asks for your cell number and you give it to her, throwing a glance at Hotch for good measure. He’s still pacing. 

He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, but can’t say anything to you before he’s forced to respond to the poor budget clerk who drew the short straw. “No we can’t start sharing hotel rooms…”

Haley interrupts your momentary space-out. “Thanks, again. If he doesn’t have a chance to call me back, can you let him know I’m going to my sister’s for the weekend? With Jack?” 

“Sure.”

That’s another question I’m not going to ask. 

You hang up the phone and get back to your exam, trying not to feel comforted by the lull of familiarity in the room. 

+++

For some reason, you keep finding yourself alone in police precincts in the middle of nowhere with Hotch sitting across the table from you. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You look up. 

“Haley, she…” He heaves a sigh and trails off for a minute, frowning at a spot above your head. “I don’t know why I’m asking, what I’m asking.” 

You keep your eyes on him. “Shoot.” 

He takes another breath. “I don’t know how to make her happy anymore.” 

This is above my pay grade. 

“Everything I do seems to irritate her - trying, not trying, just surviving. I don’t know.” He shakes his head at your somewhat bewildered expression. “Sorry, I -” 

“No, no, Hotch. It’s fine.” You search for his eyes. “What can I do?” 

He shakes his head. “Any advice?” 

Any advice? Definitely above my pay grade. 

You also feel for him - he wouldn’t be asking if he wasn’t desperate. 

Besides that, it almost makes sense he’s asking you rather than anyone else on the team. They’ve all known him too long, have been too close to see his struggles clearly. They need to see him as an authority, separate from petty squabbles. 

Separate from the things that make him human. 

He needs to be a superhero for this team, and then go home and be a superhero for his family. Both parts of his life exist with a wall between them - Agent Hotchner can’t be a husband and a father in the field, and Mr. Haley Hotchner can’t be an agent at home. 

It must be lonely. 

Everyone else knows about and ignores that necessary separation. He trusts them as his colleagues, people he can rely on professionally, but perhaps not personally. 

Well, all except Emily. 

You get the feeling that he doesn’t completely trust Emily yet, but you’re not sure why. That’s another thing to figure out about the walking enigma sitting across from you. 

“Well… I’ve never been married, I don’t have kids, but I think…” You search for words. 

It’s none of my business, is what you want to say. 

Instead, you offer, “Why don’t you just ask her?” 

His brow crumples. “What?”

“Ask her. You don’t know how to, I dunno, do it right on your own, it sounds like. But you’re a team, right? Just ask her.” 

You duck down to your work, getting the feeling he’d rather not be observed as he processes. There’s a part of you that wonders whether his preference for privacy masks his fear. 

Another part of you already knows the answer. 

+++

Derek and Emily walk back into the precinct, spotting the pair of you right where they left you. 

Hotch still watches you with a soft, curious frown on his face, like there’s a puzzle there he can’t quite solve. You diligently work away, sticking flags and post-its on cold cases for the board. 

“What’s with that?” 

Emily looks up from her phone. “What’s with what?”

Derek nudges his chin toward the conference room. “That.”

Emily’s brow pinches a little. “They seem to be getting along well.” Her mouth twists. “I didn’t think he’d warm up so easily. He didn’t with me.” 

“He gets like that. He’s getting better, though, ever since you called him out.” 

She snorts. “You’re kidding. I didn’t think he actually listened - I barely meant it.” 

“No, you didn’t.” Derek raises his eyebrows and searches for her eyes. “And he heard you.” 

Emily shifts her attention back to you, her posture softening. “Oh.” 

“C’mon,” Derek says, tapping her upper back with a good deal of affection. “Let’s regroup and see what we’ve got.”

+++

Aaron sits up in bed, the harsh light from the hotel table lamp illuminating the ugly wallpaper and the case files on the equally ugly bedspread. 

His fingers hover restlessly over the keys as he drafts his email, warring with himself. 

Does he want you on the team? Permanently? He’s already shown too much of his hand, revealed too much of himself, grew too comfortable too quickly. 

He’s not sure what it is about you that forced his guard down. 

You’re not the first person he’s asked about Haley, though he must admit that Gideon was next to no help. Spencer’s offered him unsolicited statistics about marital strife on three separate occasions in the past three months. 

Aaron presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. 

I live in a circus. 

He opens his eyes and reads over the email again. 

Fuck it. 

His cursor hovers over Send for just a moment before he clicks. The little whooshing sound seals his fate. 

+++

You land in Arizona and Gideon’s already on edge. There’s already another crime scene by the time you get off the plane

“This one’s going to be bad, isn’t it?” 

Derek sighs. “You’ve got good instincts. Stay close.” 

You elect yourself Derek’s shadow at the crime scene, taking notes for him while he circles and observes the body. 

Leaning close to him, you ask, “Isn’t the body positioning a sign of remorse?” 

He looks over at you with a little smile. “Yeah. Good work.” He looks across the street to Hotch, speaking with the detective. “Do yourself a favor and note that to Hotch. Make sure Gideon hears you.” 

+++

This time, you’re alone with Emily in the conference room, helping her pin and organize the board. 

“Hey,” she says, something like hesitation in her voice. 

You turn. “Yeah?” 

“Did Strauss ever…” She trails off and looks over her shoulder as Hotch, Gideon, and Derek come back in from the Arizona heat. They’re on their way to the conference room. 

“Did she ever what?” 

Emily shakes her head and forces a smile, waving you off. “Nevermind.” 

You’re not sure you get the confused look of your face before your colleagues walk through the door. 

+++

“Where are they?” Hotch watches the monitor, his eyes flickering, searching for Derek and Emily. 

You’re frozen, watching over his shoulder as the woman stabs the unsub, and then herself. Without knowing why, your mind wanders to that question Emily almost asked you the day before. 

This isn’t good. 

+++

The plane ride home is quiet, tense. 

You sit next to Hotch again. There’s not much you can do, but you shoot a text to Haley. 

5:42pm We’re flying back. Should be wheels down in Quantico in about four hours. 

She texts back after a minute. 

5:43pm Thanks. 

There’s something off - you don’t like the look of that period, but you try not to read into it too much. You’re all feeling a little unsettled after that case. 

Your eyes wander across the cabin. 

JJ’s bottom lip is firmly planted between her teeth as she stares out the window. 

Spencer’s sitting across from Gideon with a huge book in his lap, but he’s looking at Gideon more than he’s reading. 

Gideon, for once, doesn’t have his journal in his hand. He, like JJ, stares out the window, his mouth pinched. 

Emily’s eyes are restless, her breathing somewhat irregular. She’s picking at her nails. 

“Emily.” 

She looks up at you, and you tap the back of your hand with a finger. She looks down, finding her thumb and index finger close to bleeding. 

“Thanks.” She looks away from you again. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d think the view out the window was the most captivating sight in history. 

You know better. It’s just clouds. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand. Jenny. 

5:58pm How’s it going? 

You huff a little laugh down your nose. 

5:58pm Rough day. 

Hotch breaks his gaze from the window. “What’s up?” 

“Just Jenny. She’s checking in.” 

He shakes his head and you can hear the sarcasm in his tone. “Good day for it.” 

6:01pm If you’re up to it, I’ll be in my office late if you want to swing by and talk about it. 6:02pm I also have booze. 

You look up to find Hotch reading over your shoulder. He backs off. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to -” 

“No, it’s fine.” 

“You should go, if she’s offering.” 

You snort. “Should I be job-searching already?” 

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says with a little smile. “Jenny’s seen a lot. She’s a good resource.” 

+++

The Navy yard is quiet as you drive across the campus. The NCIS building isn’t hard to find, but it’s still unfamiliar territory. 

When you park and get cleared for access and up the elevator, most of the lights are off on the Major Case Response floor. There are still agents present, working under the warm light of their desk lamps. 

A team of four takes up the middle of the bullpen, but they barely look up as you pass them and climb the stairs. 

Cynthia isn’t at her desk - gone for the night - and Jenny’s office door is open. She also has her overhead lights turned off, giving her office a cozy, lived-in feel. 

“Hey, you,” she says, looking up with a little smile. “Just got the scuttlebutt on that Arizona case. Definitely not ideal, I hear.”

You shake your head, collapsing into a chair on the other side of her desk. “Not ideal is a good way to put it.” 

She stands and crosses the office, pouring two small glasses of some amber liquid you know is gonna burn like hell. 

You take what she offers and hold in both of your hands, not really interested in drinking it, and follow her to the couch. 

“What happened?” 

You heave a breath. “Got the call - three murders already. Clearly a preferential offender. All the women were students, brunette, similar features. We already had another crime scene by the time we landed. We used the profile, got the guy.” 

Jenny’s brow pinches. “Then?” 

“Copycat. Even came with a note exonerating the suspect we had in custody. We had to let him go without a lead on the second suspect.” 

She sighs and takes a sip of her bourbon. “Been there.” 

“We were surveilling him, waiting for him to do something stupid - we knew he would. The copycat confronted him… She was suicidal. Stabbed him, then herself. We were too late.” 

“Oh, my God.” 

You level her with an exhausted look. “Yeah.” 

“How’s your team?” 

“Tired, mostly.” You offer a humorless laugh. “Maybe in a more existential way than a physical way, not that any of us have slept…” 

The two of you chat into the early hours of the morning. She’s had more than one day like this, in more than one country. 

“It’s days like this that make you question whether you’ve chosen the right line of work.” She looks over at a picture of herself in front of the Eiffel Tower, resting on her bookshelf. “But the good days…”

“They make it worth it, don’t they?” 

The corner of her mouth tips up in a smile. “Yeah. They do.” 

+++

You find a text from Haley when you get back into the car, not realizing you left it in the center console cup holder. 

10:38pm Thanks for getting him home safe. Get some sleep.

+++

When you come in the next morning almost embarrassingly late, Gideon’s office is still dark. 

You’re not even really sure you should be here in the first place, what with the major fuckup hanging over everyone’s heads. The last thing you want to do is go home to your room, back to those four tiny walls and textbooks, even after everything. The bullpen, this team, has become your safety net. 

They should all be here, but there’s only one absence striking you as particularly odd. “Where’s Gideon?” 

Spencer shrugs, spinning half-circles in his desk chair. He looks despondent, staring at the carpet. You don’t see Emily or Derek, but you assume they’re somewhere. 

Weird. 

You set your things down and head up the stairs, knocking twice on Hotch’s door. 

“Yeah?” He looks up and sees you, relaxing a little. 

You take a little breath. “Should I be here today?” 

“Do you want to be here today?” There’s something behind his voice you can’t quite place. It almost sounds like insecurity, like he’s worried he’s scared you off. 

Far from it. 

“I do, sir. I want to be here.” You think of Jenny, and hope he can hear more than you can say. “It’s worth it.” 

You think maybe you’re figuring him out a little more. He smiles more often than you’d think, but you have to know what it looks like. This look - the softening of his eyes and the corners of his mouth, the slight crease at the corners of his eye, the threat of a dimple - is just as big a smile for him as Morgan’s human-sunshine smile. 

“Then stick around. I’ll have you work on some mock consults with Reid and Prentiss - you’ll be doing a lot of those in the next few months until you’re ready to take them on by yourself.” 

“I’ll go pick them up from JJ. They’re in her office, right?” 

He nods and you turn to leave, but you’re stopped by the sound of your name before you can get through the door. “Yeah?”

“You’ve performed remarkably well, no matter what happens after this.” 

The side of your mouth twists. “Thank you, sir.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse​ @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger​ @ssaic-jareau @davidrossi-ismydad​ @angelsbabey​ @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid​ @captain-christopher-pike​ @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em​ @word-scribbless​ @jdougl-love​ @dreila03​ @forgottenword​ @aaronhotchnerr​ @ssa-morgan​ @sana-li​ @tegggeeee​ @abschaffer2​ @ssacandice-ray​ @ellyhotchner​ @lotties-journey-abroad​ @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25​ @mooneylupinblack​ @ssareidbby​ @bwbatta​ @roses-and-grasses​ @capricorngf​ @missdowntonabbey​ @averyhotchner​ @mandylove1000​ @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor​ @spencers-hoodrat​ @popped-weasels​ @evee87​ @nuvoleincielo​ @this-broken-band-girl​ @reidtomestyles​ @hotch-meeeeeuppppp​ @winqhster​ @the-falling-in-the-danger​ @iconicc​ @mangoberry43​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @kerrswriting​ @mac99martin​ @itsalwaysb33nyou​ @baumarvel​ @messyhairday-me​ @ssworldofsw​  @deagibs​ @crazyshannonigans​ @moonshinerbynight​ @jhiddles03​ @teamhappyme​ @mendesmelodies​ @starsandasteroids​ @unicorn-bitch​ @ambicaos​ @bispences​

[botwstoriesandsuch]

[Image ID: A screenshot of an anon asking saying “I just wanna say that your tags whenever you rb art and fics are so cute 🥺 you reblogged something of mine the other day and the tags were just so nice and innocent??? It’s like watching a little kid at an aquarium 😝so as an artist I thank you, hope you don’t take it as cringy” End ID]

- - - - - 

Cringey?? nonononono I may be a young kid watching the pretty fish swim aimlessly in the aquarium but I will

recklessly enjoy other people’s content don’t test me

I try to keep it in the tags cause I don’t wanna take away from the op’s original work, plus it makes it easier for other people to rb it from me, but I will amp up the love and appreciation when the situation calls for it. You could straight up come into my inbox or messages and just ask me to give you a reblog and I will do it, I do not care I love you, content creators.

Cringe Culture is dead it’s time to gush plus if I do this often enough people might do it more for me so it’s a win win hehe

Legit, I got a super sweet comment on one of my fics quoting something I wrote and it made me so happy so I was like “huh, guess I’ll do that more often then” and now I’m doing that, that’s how impressionable I am asdfghjk

Also hello?? specifically *my* tags helped you out?? I am a nobody, CLEARLY not enough people are doing this smh, allow me to teach the masses for a sec here

How To Make A Content Creator Happy: the world’s simplest guide to spreading serotonin through a keyboard

Step fucking one) You reblog it. I mean, that’s a given. You’ve all seen those “reblogs help creators out and likes do nothing” posts so I won’t rant too much. Likes are good, but reblogs are like handing someone a stack of a hundred dollars and all it takes is one click! 

(PRO TIP: Hold down the button and swipe for mobile, and hold the left alt button and click once for computer [though it will only rb to your main blog. if you want it for a side-blog then you’re stuck with two clicks but HEY two clicks to help out a creator you like is nothing!])

You share it! Just share stuff. Share the ao3 like, please do it. Don’t repost, don’t just mention it, give the links especially when you’re just in conversation or talking about it around plz I swear it does wonders

Ok moving on to the super simple stuff for commenting and putting stuff in the tags because I guarantee that the op will read them

write A N Y T H I N G and I literally mean anything just fucking:

!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sdjflksdjfkjh

?!?!?!?!!?

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhghghhhhhhhhh

:OOOOOOOOO

prettyyy

<33333333333333333

just fucking go ham, go nuts, it doesn’t need to be coherent it just needs to EXIST the very existence of someone enjoying someone’s content gives so much serotonin so stop being silent cowards and give us a smiley face from time to time

uh what else what else....hmm [golden rule is treat others the way you want to be treated, so if you’re a creator yourself, just give whatever you would want seen in the comments of your stuff! I mean that’s how I came up with all this...]

Point out the details! I mentioned earlier about quoting stuff from fics (that stuff is just 👌👌👌 so delicious) but I’m pretty sure (I’m not an artist myself don’t quote me) that the exact same effect is present when you talk about details in art or something. So talk about that pretty snowflake in the background! Or that piece of dialogue that made you laugh. Just a simple nod to the details is a big difference between saying “I like this” versus “I like this thing that you took the time to make the effort you put into the details did not go unnoticed”

just ALL the feedback please and thank you

this might vary from person to person, though personally I love when people are like “The way you write imagery is so good please do more!!” so just give a little nod to someone like “The way you draw this character is amazing please do more” or something like that

I wouldn’t go as far as to give criticism (although personally I’m the type of person that loves the occasionally critique for future reference, cause it means that you care as much as I do about the quality of my work) 

But along the same lines as the details thing, a nice nod to a creator about what they’re doing right is sooooo good! makes the butterflies flutter

                ~~~~~~Did that post give you emotions?~~~~~~

   G   O   O   D

 ~~FUCKING TELL US~~

THE ACT OF SOMEONE WRITING A SET OF LETTERS, OR SOMEONE SKETCHING A BLOB MADE ANOTHER DISTANT HUMAN BEING DEVELOP CHEMICALS IN THEIR BRAIN?? SURE WOULD LOVE TO KNOW THAT BECAUSE WOW THAT’S AMAZING!?!??

just go “I’m so happy” or “I’m so sad” just “TT__TT” just fucking “:OO” or just “I hate this” [HUMOURISTICALLY] and “I can’t believe you’ve done” just give it yes tell us the emotion that you have felt we love it

I don’t think enough people understand how amazing that is???? You were once in a normal, neutral state, and then a piece of content that I created just made you smile or laugh or cry like WHAT that’s amazing omg

Ok so that’s pretty much the simple stuff right, that’s your elementary classwork right there

Just give something, literally anything and just go “I love this so much!!!!!” bam done, you just murdered the op with your love, great job

So yeah, that’s that. Pretty simple stuff, no?

...but you wanna graduate to master class?

You wanna fucking go ape shit

you wanna just

g o    t o    town?

I said this was gonna be a simple guide so don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell you that you have to write a full length essay on every post that you come across

[BUT IF YOU WANT TO DON’T LET ME STOP YOU THAT WOULD ACTUALLY BE AMAZING?? HELL WRITING OUT A PARAGRAPH OF A COMMENT IS ALREADY JUST *CHEFS KISS* MASTERCLASS OF MURDERING THE OP WITH LOVE JUST ANALYZING THE SHIT OUT OF THE COLORS AND SHADING AND FRAMING OR JUST POINTING OUT THE THEMES AND SUBTEXT AND CHARACTERIZATION --part of the reason I love betaing stuff so much because I can analyze shit and shower it with premature love while also helping fics to be even better than they were originally ugh so cleansing for my literature heart-- SO YEAH GIVE CREATORS A PARAGRAPH, DARE I DREAM OF PARAGRAPHS, BECAUSE WOW YES PLEASE YES]

...ahem anyway

the way to graduate from good to great as a receiver of content is

to do all this

any of this

any of this simple stupid amazing shit

and just

put it in an ask or message

that’s literally it

Let me tell you why that’s so amazing, it pumps up the already amazing dopamine dosage of these actions alone, and multiplies it by a hundred, let me tell you why

Let’s say you read a drabble. You loved it, you reblogged it, you gave it hearts and emojis and ranted for a few tags about how it made you drop your muffin on the ground. Fantastic work, you just made the op pass out.

Then you go about your day and that’s the end of that.

BUT

if you do all that

and then put it in an ASK

dare you even a direct message?? (probably not most of us on here are cowards I get that)

but an ASK, anon or otherwise?

The message you just sent to the op was “I interacted with the post you made, and I loved it so much that I went the extra mile of going to your blog to make extra extra sure you understand how much I liked your thing”

There’s a wordless wall with every post! You like and reblog the thing and move on with your day. 

But the fact that YOU sent a HEART a SINGLE sentence about how you liked a thing? the fact that you BREACHED that wall and just fucking keyboard smashed in the inbox? the fact that you did that is the most amazing thing in the world

you just ambush the op with good vibes. we were expecting the bare minimum in the comments and tags, but the fact you when out of your way to make it a message or ask???? superb, outstanding, the sheer SHOCK of it will shift tectonic plates

you’re my fucking hero if you do this. you’re a godsend. I would kill for you,👏people👏would👏kill👏for👏you.

AT LEAST THEY WOULD KILL FOR YOU IF THIS ACTION DIDN’T ALREADY MURDER THEM

BE A MURDERER, NAY, A SERIAL KILLER. MURDER CONTENT CREATORS WITH LOVE

BE RECKLESSLY KIND AND LOVING YOU PIECE OF SHIT, ITS IMPOSSIBLE TO BE CRINGY TO STARVING AND DYING WRITERS AND ARTISTS WE WILL TAKE IT ALL GOD DAMMIT

YOU ARE A CHILD STARING UP AT AN AQUARIUM IN WONDER.

MAKE YOUR HAPPINESS STIR THE TIDES, LET YOUR PRESCENCE BE KNOWN PAST THE REFLECTION OF THE GLASS.

THE FISH ARE LOOKING FOR YOUR SMILE. 

[tuanhood]

lambda

pairing: frat!mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, enemies to lovers (kinda), smut, fluff

warnings: 18+, language, cringey frat stuff, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), explicit sex. 

word count: 11,400+

summary: your last choice was renting a room at a frat house over the summer, especially after you told yourself you were done with anything frat related, but when your ex ditches you last minute its your only option. now... if only you could stop dreaming about the president of lambda chi.

a/n: surprise again! mark won the poll!! but like I said i think i’m going to continue doing a frat one shot for each member. so it’ll be like a little anthology series!! but i have no clue when i will write the other once so please bare with me :) Also if there’s some frat stuff in here that doesn’t make sense just let me know in my ask or if you have any questions i’ll be happy to answer! 

alpha | delta | gamma | kappa | theta | sigma

“Who do you know here?” you found yourself being asked before even fully stepping onto the property.

The douchey guy with his backwards baseball cap and muscle tee – sporting his letters of course – looked you up and down as if trying to place you.

“No one actually.”

He looked confused, “wait seriously? You’re just going to admit that right off the bat? Usually people try to make something up.”

“See I’m not here to play games… Kyle? I’m guessing your name is Kyle. I have the unfortunate pleasure of living here over the summer, because this was the cheapest and most last-minute housing I could find. Now I’m just going to go up to my room and mind my own business while you and your brothers throw this stupid party that better be over before midnight.”

“You could have just said you live here…” the boy mumbled mostly to himself, “well welcome home and congrats on moving in! I’m Bambam by the way.”

He thrusted his hand forward to you, almost forgetting about the mob of people behind you waiting to get in and see if they pass the “vibe” check to get past the front door. You were sure in any other circumstance you would not be passing the vibe check.

“Wow Bambam…” you said to yourself considering the name. He looked delighted as if you were so enthralled by the unique quality of it. You were however, thinking about how Bambam was even worse than “Kyle.”

“And you are?” he asked.

“Dude can you stop flirting and keep the line moving! I’m trying to get wasted before 11!” someone yells from deep in the line behind you.

“Hey! I’m the one who says how fast or slow this line moves! Fuck off man or you can go find your own kick back,” Kyl- Bambam yelled.

Snorting, you rolled your eyes, “you call this a kick back?” You gestured to the full house behind him, deciding to leave out those who were sitting on the roof.

“If the normal school year isn’t in session and the house isn’t over 50% occupied with members, then it’s a kick back. Chapter rules.”

“Would love to see that rulebook, if you have it handy,” you laughed, joking. Somehow, Bambam didn’t get it and cocked his head to the side absorbing your comment, “you really want to see the rules? I mean I could bring it to you later if you-” 

“That’s fine Kyl-Bambam, I’m good. I’m just going to go inside now.”

“Bet, see you later.”

The way he said it makes you think that he means he’ll see you later at the party. That would however be completely wrong, because there was no way you were going to hang out with these disgusting egocentric heathens that just want to fuck and get drunk.

Fraternity housing hadn’t been you first choice for this summer. In fact, it probably hadn’t been your last choice either, but this is what you were stuck with. Staying at school over the summer had been a very last-minute choice – for reasons you weren’t ready to discuss – and by the time you were searching for housing, everything that was cheap and decent had been taken. Instead you were left with cheap and… chaotic.

“Whoa watch out!” You heard being yelled by some douche in a bucket hat as soon as you stepped into your new home.

It had been a week since you moved in, but you hadn’t made any effort to get to know any of the other people staying over the summer. Regardless of whether they were in the same predicament as you or if they were actually members of the org, you weren’t particularly interested in face to face time. After the Spring Quarter you had, you needed alone time and this summer you didn’t plan on making friends with your housemates… Especially if they were in a frat.

Your first week had actually, however, gone somewhat okay. No one had tried to interact with you – in fact you had barely seen anyone else in the house – and there had been no disturbing sounds or noises… It almost didn’t feel like you were living in a frat house, besides the urinals in the bathroom and the boxes of energy drinks that lined a few of the hallways. You were pleased to say the least, until you turned onto Greek row and heard all of the noise from the corner.

Please don’t be Lambda. Please don’t be Lambda. Please don’t be Lambda. Please don’t be Lamb-

The silent prayer in your head clearly hadn’t been heard as you had grown closer and closer to the house you were staying in. Lo and behold you had been met with a very large line of people waiting to get in, loud music and trash all over the lawn. What had you been expecting by choosing to live in a frat?

The bucket hat guy’s warning didn’t faze you. As soon as you process his words you placed your hand up to smack the Styrofoam football he had thrown to the ground. You weren’t in the mood for an obstacle course, you just wanted to get to your room and put in earplugs so you could rest before work tomorrow morning.

“Whoa you got mad fast reflexes. Do you play?” he asked grabbing the object off of the sticky floor.

You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely curious or not. But judging on the way he eyed you up and down, there were other things that were actually on his mind.

Side eyeing him, you snorted, “yeah… I’m not doing this,” you motioned your hand at him in circles and turned to head towards the main stairs. His words stopped you, “wow are we heading there already? Just give me a minute to tell my brothers I can’t watch drinks table anymore.”

Instinctively you cracked your knuckles, bucket hat guy found himself clearing his throat noticing the small detail that showcased your frustration. Turning around, it takes everything in you not to slap him, but more likely than not, this guy probably lived with you as well. Although you didn’t care for being friends with your housemates, it probably wouldn’t be a good look to be the housemate who slapped the people she shared a home with. So instead of a physical reaction, you simply clenched your jaw and went with the most basic response.

“I live here. I’m going to my room.”

Instead of showing any kind of shame or embarrassment for his very wrong estimate about where the situation was going, bucket hat clicks his tongue – almost in a disapproving way.

“Just watch out… we’re using the rooms on the second floor for hookup space. Or wait was it the third?”

As if you couldn’t have been more annoyed.

“What the fuck? How can you guys use the rooms up there when people are renting them out? How can you even use them when they’re locked?”

Bucket hat started to blink too much as if considering your very real query, “The President has a master key to all the rooms. What do you expect deciding to live in Greek housing for the summer?”

If you had known how much this frat didn’t care about personal space or just basic human rights, you would have never chosen to stay at Lambda Chi. In fact, you would have never chosen a fraternity at all – cheap price or not.

“Is it the second or third floor?”

“Don’t remember,” he hummed, no longer paying you any mind but twirling the football in his hand and eyeing a group of girls who had walked by.

Groaning, you snapped your fingers to regain his attention, “It makes a difference so remember.”

He shrugged and looked at you with an annoyed look on his face, “listen you’re kind of bringing my mood down… And I think I hear someone calling me from the kitchen so…” he pointed his thumb somewhere behind him, “I’m just gonna do that instead.”

Bucket hat guy leaves you standing in the main foyer, squished amongst other people, without another word. Although, you swear you heard him mutter something about you “not passing the vibe check.”

Left without a clue of what to do, you figured that the only viable option you had was to go find the President. Luckily bucket hat gave you one sliver of useful information.

Whipping around, you go to ask Bambam where exactly you could find the President, but he’s too enthralled in a conversation with one of the girl’s waiting in line to get in. It probably would do you more harm than good to get involved in that.

Searching around the space in the front of the house, you look for another brother who could perhaps help you with your task.

Right… Shouldn’t be too hard. Just look for someone who’s confident enough to think they’d be able to get out of a DUI.

A loud laugh caught your attention, it comes from a guy holding a Grey Goose bottle and letting random girls take pulls out of it.

Perfect.

You approached him, placing a gentle hand on his arm that holds the bottle to get his attention. He took notice of you immediately, giving you the same exact look bucket hat had given you earlier. What was up with these guys? They weren’t even trying to be subtle.

“You want a pull?” He asked with a smirk, shaking the bottle in his hand at you.

Shaking your head, you cleared your throat, “I’m looking for the President… Where would I find him?”

Grey Goose bottle guy wiggled his eyebrows at you. Gross. “Ah I see… you want Mr. President. I think he’s in his room.” You wanted to be cordial, but these people just weren’t making it easy.

“What room is his again?” You asked, batting your eyelashes in the most normal way possible – as if that was normal for you.

Grey Goose placed his hand under his chin and tapped it as if deep in thought. He paused and smiled, “I’ll tell you if you take a pull.”

Where were you right now? In what dimension was this actually happening to you? If you told your friends back home about having to take a pull from a bottle of Grey Goose in order to find the President of a fraternity to get him to stop maybe letting people hook up in the room you’re paying for, they wouldn’t believe you. You didn’t believe it.

Sighing you brought your hand up, in a “give it to me” motion. Grey Goose smiled proudly and brings the bottle up, tipping it into your mouth once you have your head leaned back and lips parted. It felt like forever by the time he finally brings the bottle up from your mouth. The burning sensation in your throat makes you want to throw up, and for a moment you think you are, but somehow you manage to take a deep breath and control yourself.

“That was awesome! I think you took like a shot and a half.” I know, you wanted to yell at him, but you bit your tongue. Usually pull meant a swig, not 66 milliliters of vodka.

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, already feeling lightheaded, you repeated your earlier question, “what room is his?”

Grey Goose nodded, “he’s on the third floor. There’s a huge sign on the door that says President with the chapter’s crest, you can’t miss it.” If it truly was that easy, maybe you should have just gone looking yourself instead of being blackmailed into consuming alcohol the night before you had to work.

“Thanks,” you muttered to him, not bothering to wait and hear a response. You found yourself back at the main stairs, taking two steps at a time until you reached the third floor. It wasn’t long before you realized Grey Goose was right, his room wasn’t hard to miss.

Usually you were a rational thinker. You liked thinking out your thoughts before you turned them into actions, but in this case, you couldn’t stop yourself from knocking on the door as soon as you’re in front of it.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

There’s no answer. Was it possible he wasn’t in his room anymore? You tried again.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

This time your ears catch noise behind the door. There was someone inside, but they were just choosing to ignore you.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

This time the noise was clearer and you can make out specific words being said.

“Maybe they’ll just go away.”

Before you could stop your usual logical mind, you’re reaching for the doorknob – annoyed by this “President” who was trying to make you leave. To your surprise, the handle turns and you swung the door open slowly, being met with a mostly dark room aside from one bedside lamp being on.

“What the fuck?” The deep voice startled you as if you had been expecting no one to actually be on the other side of the door. What the hell were you doing?

Your eyes landed on the large bed in the middle of the room and you really wished you hadn’t. The two half naked figures on top of one another looked at you with wide eyes, the girl immediately grabbing the comforter to cover herself pushing the guy, causing him to fall off the bed.

“Are you for real right now?” the guy asked you from the floor, “get the fuck out!”

You felt frozen in your spot, your hand still on the door knob and unable to break your gaze from the boy on the floor. It was like you were a virgin again based on the way you were staring at his toned chest and muscular arms. You were certain if he hadn’t been sitting and crouched on the floor, you would be eyeing the black boxer briefs that rest on his hips.

“What’s wrong with you? I said get out!”

It’s almost as though his second demand for you to leave is what woke you up, suddenly mumbling a “sorry,” and shutting the door closed.

Opening the door to someone’s room without approval wasn’t something you typically did – you had simply done it as a reaction to the stressful situation you were in. Openly staring at a frat boy definitely wasn’t something you typically did either. It was like your brain had shut off and you weren’t going to let it happen again.

You continued standing in front of the door, unsure of what to do. Should you wait for him to… finish? Was that even the President? Maybe this was your sign that the third floor was the hook up floor. If so, then you were in the clear to go back to your room… so why didn’t your feet want to move?

“Mina come on! Don’t leave! We can keep going!” This time the voice behind the door is much louder and clear.

“You were dumb enough to leave it unlocked! I shouldn’t even be doing this anyways… my loyalty lies with Sigma Chi.” 

“What? Just because they’re Phi Mu’s affiliate frat? That’s bullshit!”

“My sisters will kill me if they find out I was with a Lambda,” you heard her say, her voice becoming louder signaling she was approaching the door.

“I don’t understand why that has to stop us from fucking though!”

The door swung open and you find yourself taking a step back, looking away to pretend like you weren’t eavesdropping. The girl glanced at you and rolled her eyes before ignoring the boy behind and heading down the hallway to go downstairs.

While pretending to be fixated on the wall’s chipped paint, you glanced out of the corner of your eye to see the guy in his doorway, clearly annoyed at the situation. He ran his hand through his hair out of frustration and you can’t ignore how fluffy it looked. You watched him run it through three times, before you make yourself look away.

“You,” he grumbled pointing at you, “Here. Now.” He quickly turned, going back into his room, leaving the door open for you to follow. You think that maybe you shouldn’t follow him, but judging on the way he looked back at you with an intimidating stare, it was probably the right choice.

You awkwardly stood next to his desk and watched him reach into his closet to grab a robe to throw over his naked torso, shielding his body from you. As he tied it and sat down on the bed, leaning forward, you’re able to see a sliver of his chest and collarbone where the robe hangs down. It confused you as to why he wouldn’t just put his regular clothes back on, but you found yourself not being annoyed in the slightest at the display of skin.

His eyes bore into you, and it’s almost as though he’s waiting for you to speak first – to say something to make up for your invasion of his privacy.

“Are you the President?”

He looked at you as if you were insane, “what the hell does it say on the door?”

All of the annoyance and frustration that had fueled your fire downstairs, making you a woman on a rampage had dissipated. For some reason standing in front of this guy, you felt like a small child being talked down to. In any other situation you would fight back and show him you weren’t going to take his tone, but for some reason you couldn’t find it in you.

“I was just making sure… okay?”

Mr. President cracked his knuckles, “Why the hell did you barge into my room?” You don’t answer him. You were trying to think of what you would normally say or do to a guy like this, but your mind went blank once again. “You just cost me a hook up tonight, so speak.” His tone is a mixture of aggravated and bored – if that was something that was even possible.

“I mean you’re the one who left the door unlocked…” you mumbled to yourself, but the anger on his face signals that he heard. He threw up his hands, “That still doesn’t give you the right to just walk into a room that’s not yours.”

That really got you. You felt the flame within you being lit once again. “Look who’s talking.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re the one who’s letting people’s rooms be used for sex without their permission. Invading their privacy!” you growled.

Mr. President blinked at you blankly and judging on his reaction, it almost seemed like he didn’t know what you were talking about. Oh… he’s good.

“Excuse me? What kind of place do you think this is? This isn’t an authoritarian regime.”

You took a step forward to where he sat on the bed, waving your finger, “then explain to me why one of your little minions downstairs told me that.”

“I have no clue who would tell you that… or why.”

“Bucket hat… football,” those are the only two words you can think of to describe him, but you hoped that would be enough. Almost instantly he nodded, “Ah Jaebeom… Yeah he was definitely just fucking with you.”

You took a step back out of shock. This was all a joke? These idiot Lambda Chi boys had been playing you? “So, I took a pull from Grey Goose guy’s bottle for nothing? I came up here for nothing? I walked in on you and Ms. Phi Mu for nothing?”

He ignored your comment about the girl’s sorority, a clear admission that you had been listening through the door, “Grey Goose? Do you mean Youngjae?”

The last fifteen minutes had filled you with enough inconveniences, stress, annoyance and embarrassment to feel like a lifetime… and this was only after one week of living in this house. How were you going to last the entire summer? Deal with all of the parties… the douchey boys objectifying you and treating everything like it was a funny joke. Not to mention their chapter’s President who seemed bitter and rude. Surprisingly attractive… but bitter and rude.

Instead of confirming Mr. President’s suspicions that Grey Goose guy was indeed this Youngjae person, you nodded solemnly towards the direction of his door, “I’m going to my room.”

“Wait… you’re living here over the summer?”

When he asked the question, you begin to feel the alcohol you had consumed earlier. Instead of feeling drunk it made you feel dizzy, tired and heavy. It made you feel even more defeated than you already felt from your sudden reality that this was your life for the next three months.

You threw up an unenthusiastic thumbs up and slowly made your way to the door. He looked at you stunned for your sudden disengagement in the conversation you were having. Although to you it didn’t feel like a conversation. Conversations were meant to be constructive, collaborative… Whatever this was, wasn’t that.

You’re in the doorway when he speaks again, “It’s Mark by the way… for when you dream about me later.”

Clenching your fists, you don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back no matter how much you weirdly want to. To see his fluffy hair, bounce as he shakes his head from side to side, that golden tanned skin, his huge-

That’s enough.

That night it takes you nearly two hours to fall asleep. You spend the first hour with a pillow over your head, trying to drown out the party downstairs. The second however, is spent thinking about one… Mr. President. It makes you feel nauseated and when you finally wake up for work the next the morning, all you can remember is the fluffy hair in your dream.

Four days had passed since the party and you hadn’t run into any of the brothers since then. No Kyle, no bucket hat, no Grey Goose. Or Bambam, Jaebom and Youngjae… or whatever. And no Mark. Not that you had been thinking about seeing him again.

Those four days felt peaceful – normal almost, that was until now. Those calming four days came to an end when you came home from your afternoon shift at work, the guys all sitting on the front porch with beers in their hands.

You were quite aware of “porch” culture amongst the fraternities at your school. The members would drag ratty old indoor furniture such as loveseats and armchairs onto the porch near the front door and sit there for hours. They’d drink their beers, play their loud music and shout things at people walking by. Yes, you knew porch culture very well… It was how you had met your ex-boyfriend.

“Well look who we have here!” Jaebeom – sans bucket hat – shouted as you began walking up the path to the porch, “haven’t seen you since the party sweetheart.”

“Shut up man you can’t say that stuff anymore. Feminism and all that,” Bambam said hitting Jaebeom’s shoulder. If you were held at gunpoint and forced to pick a favorite out of them – it would probably be Bambam. He had done the least to annoy you thus far, but you weren’t holding your breath.

“I’m going inside,” you hoped your emotionless tone is enough to get them to leave you be and just get into the house. You’d rather not spend any more time than you have to with the guys – especially during porch time.

“Heard you got history on the row Y/n,” Youngjae’s words made you stop in your tracks. This was the last thing you wanted to talk about, especially with them. You gave Youngjae a death glare, trying to communicate with him to keep his Grey Goose filled mouth shut.

The way Mark looked up at you behind his IPA doesn’t go unnoticed by you. In his mind he was trying to be discrete. He tried to present a look that was a mixture of intrigue but also indifference, even though in reality he was eager to hear his friend’s story about you.

“Some Sigma Chi history to be more specific,” Youngjae wiggled his eyebrows and you have to stop yourself from slapping the smile off of his face.

If there was anything you truly knew about frat guys, it was that every action they did or thing they said was all meant to get a reaction out whatever person they’re torturing. Acting like you didn’t care was going to bring the stakes down for Youngjae and he would ditch the story altogether. Clearing your throat, you shrugged your shoulders, “yeah so what. It’s history and history is in the past so… that’s all that needs to be said.”

He looked at you with the same stupid smile and it doesn’t falter at all. You must have shown too big of a reaction in your response.

“You dated Ryan for almost a year – I’d say that’s a record for someone at Sigma Chi,” him and the boys laughed – all of them except Mark who’s still looking at you, but pretending not to.

You tell yourself not to get upset, not to get angry or cry – because that’s what they wanted from you. Here they were treating the “relationship” you were in like a joke and you had to remain a stone wall, unaffected. Well fuck that.

“Yeah it was a record for me falling for the stupid and douchery of the typical frat guy who was actually fucking other girls the entire time unbeknownst to me because in actuality he never considered us together. But hey what can you do when you’re dealing with guys who have big egos and small dicks?”

The boys stared at you with blank faces, you swear you see Mark smile behind his bottle.

“Is she talking about us too?” Jaebeom whispered to Bambam, “Dude… I think maybe.” Without another word, you pushed open the front door aggressively, making sure it closes behind you loudly.

You don’t know why you thought your “relationship” with your ex-boyfriend was going to work out. The two of you had met because you had been passing by his house during porch time and he cat called you. What the fuck were you thinking? Even at that point you had thought guys in fraternities were terrible, but for some reason that day you just went along with one of them objectifying you… And you fucking made him into your “boyfriend.” That day you had been feeling insecure and low – that was the only explanation you had for your out of character actions.

Being with Ryan only continued your influx of out of character actions. You spent all you free time with him when you weren’t in school or working. Apparently however, all of his free time hadn’t been spent with you. The truth came out after you had planned on staying with him over the summer at his family’s lake house. It had been something you two had talked about for months and when you were only a month away, he had hit you with a bomb.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this live together thing over the summer. Samantha might get mad.”

To which you had asked, “who’s Samantha?” Then the guy who you had thought was your boyfriend went on to explain how the other girl he was seeing – Samantha – would get jealous if he brought you to the lake house instead of her. The next thing to come out of your mouth was a big “fuck you” and “I never want to see you again.” Hence why your decision to stay at school over the summer was so last minute and you were forced to stay in a fraternity house which was so much like the one your heart had been broken in only a month earlier.

You should have known Ryan wasn’t serious about you – no frat guy at your school would ever be serious with an unaffiliated girl like you. The sex should have told you how serious he was. It would always be the fast, rough kind of fucking where he mostly had you in doggy position or with your mouth around his dick. There was none of the lazy, slow passionate sex that came when you were actually serious or mesmerized by someone.

“What the hell is up with Sigma Chi getting all the hot girls?” you heard Jaebeom ask from the porch. The idiots had left the front window open so anyone could hear what they were talking about – but there weren’t really any boundaries when it came to brotherhood. Instead of leaving and going upstairs, you remained frozen in your spot with an ear positioned to the window. For some reason it seemed like living in this house was turning you into an eavesdropper.

“Guys don’t talk about her like that.” The chiming in from Mark surprised you, he had been so silent outside when you had been present that you didn’t really expect him to defend you.

“Oh really, why?”

“She’s not just a hot girl…” Mark paused for dramatic effect and you can practically hear all the guys on the edge of their seats, “she’s a super-hot girl.” You rolled your eyes as he finished his thought about you, the guys all giving him high fives and verbal agreement.

“So, what do you say Mr. President? Gonna try to hit that?”

Mark didn’t answer the second question, “Mr. President?”

Bambam laughed, “Oh yeah I overheard her on the phone the other night and that’s what she called you.” Okay maybe Bambam was no longer your favorite, “Mr. President and his fluffy hair.” You aren’t sure if you should be embarrassed because of him exposing you or offended because of the voice he uses to mimic your own. You did not sound like that.

Once again, all the guys laugh, but this time you can’t hear Mark’s own stand out giggling in the mix. For some reason you wished you could see his face right now. That’s when you decide it’s probably best to go upstairs.

“Take it, take it all,” Mark growled into your ear as he thrusted into you at a brutal pace. You couldn’t respond to him; your mind was too hazed over with pleasure.

“Wow my cock’s that good that you forgot how to speak? I know you think you’re smarter than me, but it looks like you’re wrong. All it takes is for me to be inside of you for one fucking minute for you to act like you don’t even know your own name.”

He’s right. He’s so right and all you can do is agree with him.

He brings his hand down between the two of you to rest on your clit, tapping his finger at the same pace he pumps into you at. “I know you think I’m a dumb frat boy who’s only good at drinking and partying, but how about now, hmm? Don’t you think I’m good at fucking this tight pussy?”

You awake with a gasp. You’re covered in sweat and your hand has somehow found its way underneath your shorts and underwear. Why the fuck were you having a sex dream about Mark? It felt like your entire body was on fire, even your fan being on the high setting wasn’t going to help you in cooling down.

Getting out of bed, you decided to head downstairs to the kitchen. What you needed was a popsicle and a bag of ice. The ice was to help how hot you felt, the popsicle was a distraction from thinking about whatever the fuck your subconscious had just come up with.

“Hello?” The voice coming out of nowhere causes you to jump as you swing one of the freezers in the large kitchen open. You attempted to squint your eyes in the darkness to make out who the voice belongs too, but it’s too difficult to see.

“If you keep your eyes like that, you’re going to ruin your vision,” the lowness of the voice takes you back to only moments ago in your room when you had been hot and absolutely bothered. It was the same voice from your dream.

“What are you doing down here?” you asked, moving your head around the space, still unable to properly see him.

Suddenly, Mark’s face comes into view as he stepped closer to you so he could be seen in the light of the freezer, he’s so close, you hold your breath, “what? No hello?”

You scoffed, “I usually don’t when people are just down here sitting in the dark.” Mark doesn’t respond to your comment about him lurking and positioned his glance to where your hand was placed in the freezer, “feeling hot?” Your eyes went wide, “w-what?”

He pointed to you hand resting on the box of popsicles, “the popsicles…” Laughing awkwardly you pulled one out from the package and go to reach for an ice pack, “oh… yeah.”

Mark nodded his head, “it’s pretty hot tonight… That’s why I came down here. You know heat rises and all that stuff… I’m on the third floor so…” he drifted off and his tone sounds off, unlike when you had first met him. He almost sounded nervous?

“Listen… I want to apologize for the guys on the porch the other day. They brought up all that stuff about you and your Sigma Chi dude… and it wasn’t cool.” You don’t think about the fact that he called you super-hot and laughed with all the guys, but instead you focus on how surprisingly genuine Mark sounded.

“I’m sorry too about coming into your room and ruining your night.”

“Nah you didn’t ruin my life,” there’s a weird pause and it makes you look away from him, but he’s quick to continue, “I mean that girl was just some stupid Phi Mu bimbo.” Without thinking about it, you hit his arm and he flinched at the pain, “ow!”

“You can’t call a woman stupid or a bimbo just because she wouldn’t sleep with you!” He placed his hands up in surrender, “Sorry, sorry! I’m still learning.”

Mark reached behind you into the freezer and grabbed a popsicle himself. When his arm brushes your shoulder and he gets close enough that you can feel his breath on your face you feel the same pulsing in your core from your dream.

“You should probably eat that… It’ll melt,” he motioned to the popsicle in your hand once he’s back in his original spot, “and close the freezer.”

“Right…” you nodded. It felt like you suddenly lost all intellect when you were around this guy, what was happening to you? It had happened with Ryan… but not on this scale at all.

Shutting the freezer, you’re both met with the darkness of the kitchen. This time you’re able to focus in on Mark’s face despite it being pitch black, both of you opening the wrappers of your icy dessert.

“Besides…” Mark began, going back to the previous topic, “from what I’ve learned… sorority girls are trouble. Not really what I’m looking for. I’d much rather be with someone unaffiliated.” His words caused you to choke on your popsicle, coughing until you feel like there’s no breath in you. Mark’s thankful for the darkness, otherwise you’d see his smile at you being so caught off guard.

“Are you okay?” He asked patting your back, just as you’re at the end of your coughing fit.

You nodded your head, but then realize he probably couldn’t see your gesture at being fine, “yeah I’m okay… just… went down the wrong pipe, ya know?”

“Oh, I know.” The way he said it almost suggests something, but you try not to think about it. Otherwise your panties were going to get more damp than they already were from earlier.

Mark takes a deep breath in and sighs after a moment, “I know you think I’m a dumb frat boy who’s only good at drinking and partying-” he began, but you cut him off immediately when you recognize his choice of words.

No fucking way.

They were the words from your dream. You felt your heart beat out of your chest and you became worried. You really didn’t want to hear what he was going to say next.

“I’m going to bed!”

“What?” Mark feels confused at your sudden announcement and the way you quickly rush out of the kitchen, the sound of your feet running up the stairs the only reply to his question.

You were strange… that was for sure. But he kinda liked it.

Smiling to himself, Mark finished up his popsicle in the darkness and headed upstairs to go to sleep.

“Mark fuck… please fuck me.”

“Oh, is that all you want from me? Is that all I’m good for?”

You aren’t sure what to say, what you need to do to convince him. “N-no.”

“Then tell me… what do you want from me... Really?”

The quick racing of your heart awoke you from your dream. Fuck… not another one.

Should you go see a therapist? Why was this happening to you? It was the third night in a row you had woken up to a Mark Tuan sex dream. This one however, felt different. Unlike the two before it where he was rough with you – this one it seemed like dream you wanted more. Of course, dream you wanted to still be fucked senseless by him – aka the frat boy way – but she was also holding back. She wanted more. She wanted something else. But what?

Climbing out of your bed, you trail down the hallway to the bathroom.

During normal term time all of the bathrooms were for the guys living in the house, but luckily for you they made a few of the bathrooms in the house “ladies only” for the few girls living in the house over the summer. You pushed the door of the bathroom open, being met with the now familiar poorly drawn and weirdly sexual woman stick figure picture taped over original sign.

Expecting to see an empty bedroom, you felt your jaw drop to the floor at Mark’s naked figure in the shower. He hadn’t even bothered closing the curtain.

You felt like you couldn’t move, you felt like you couldn’t think. With his eyes closed under the stream of water, your eyes trailed down his muscular shoulders to his toned abdomen, slowly going down to his length. The same one you had been dreaming about for the last three nights and your fantasies certainly didn’t do it justice.

Before you could truly comprehend the creepiness level of what you were doing, you heard Mark yelp in shock.

“What are you doing!” he yelled, grabbing the curtain from the side and moving it over the lower half of his body.

Your mouth went dry, “I-I-” You attempted to say something, but you felt your eyes watch the droplets of water that cascade down his skin.

“Y/n!” His words snapped you back into motion and you look up at him. It was difficult to say whether the redness on his cheeks were coming from the heat of the water or from his embarrassment of the situation. Mark himself wasn’t sure.

“I- this is the girl’s bathroom. Why are you in here?”

“This bathroom has the best water pressure in the house… I thought since it was so late no one would come in,” he stuttered.

Even though you’re supposed to be having a conversation with him, you find yourself still thinking about how he looked when you first walked in. How long and thick his cock was.

Still recovering from your dream and the peep show you had just been exposed to, you find yourself moving closer to the shower, “you didn’t even close the curtain… It’s almost like you wanted someone to come in here and find you.” He doesn’t say anything, but you make no mistake of noticing the way he grips the curtain harder against his body and the way his breathing gets heavier.

“Did you want someone to find you?” You’re so close to him now that you can feel the steam from the shower opening your pores.

Mark licked his lips, “maybe I wanted you to come find me.”

“Maybe or you did?”

“You know… you do kind of owe me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. What was he talking about? Weren’t you guys being all sexy? Weren’t you about to do something?

At your nonresponse he smirked and dropped the curtain, revealing all of himself to you once again, “you cockblocked me, so now it’s time for you to make up for it.”

Just like that with your core beginning to throb almost painfully at how much it wants to be touched, you’re set into motion. You join him in the shower, not even caring about getting your pajamas wet. It’s almost as if no logic matters in this moment to you, instead it’s all about you and Mark and your desires for one another.

He pulled you into a heated kiss, pulling you flush against his soaking wet body. You feel his length pressed up against you and you moaned instinctively at the feeling. Your hands roam up and down his body, feeling those muscles you had been obsessing over since your first encounter, stopping when your hand reaches his hardened member.

Instantly Mark groaned out at the feeling of your hand slowly stroking him. He had already felt sensitive and worked up as he had already been thinking about having you under him before you had entered the bathroom.

Mark’s noises send you into another moment of not caring about reality as you kneeled down before him. In any other situation you would be disgusted at the fact that you were willingly on your knees on the floor of a frat’s shower, but this wasn’t any other situation.

You plunge yourself onto him, mouth wide and your tongue lapping at his head. The sudden and almost vicious sucking nearly caused Mark to lose his balance and slip. You pay no mind to the water cascading down your back and beginning to weigh down your hair as you feel yourself be spurred on by the grunts and moans leaving Mark’s mouth.

As you moved more him into your mouth getting a mixture of pre-cum and water dripping from the corners of your lips, you felt Mark buck his hips into you further. The sudden fullness in your mouth until his head was at the back of your throat made you choke around him, Mark bringing his hand to the top of your head to stroke your hair.

“I know how good you are at choking. I know how much you love it, keep fucking going.”

The vibrations from you moaning at his words caused Mark to throw his head back, “show me how much you want my cum. Moan for me, show me.”

Bobbing your head up and down his length, you make no mistake as you continue your noises around him – not for his benefit, but you genuinely felt turned on at just giving him head.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” before he finished his thought, you felt his warm release in your mouth and you make sure to swallow it instantly.

The sounds of the shower running and Mark’s heavy breathing, coming down from his climax fill the bathroom. It feels like you could just stay here on your knees forever listening to the sounds and you would be fine.

Once Mark catches his breath, he leant down to grab your hand and lifted you up off the wet – and probably filthy – ground. He pulls you into his arms and placed a kiss on your forehead, “damn what the hell am I going to do with you?”

It’s like his words mean more than what he’s going to do with you in the bedroom and somehow that is the thing that finally snapped you into reality. It’s not seeing him naked; it’s not kissing him; it’s not getting down on your knees and suck him dry and it certainly isn’t swallowing his cum. What the hell am I going to do with you?

What the hell was he going to do with you? And what the hell were you going to do with him? The two of you didn’t make sense and you had to remind yourself that you were in a frat house… doing things of a sexual nature with a frat bro. You were not going to find yourself trapped like you were with Ryan. You had sworn off the kind of guy Mark is. You needed to leave it here… no matter how wet and turned on you were right now.

You took a step back, away from Mark and out of his arms, “I- um I should get dry.”

Mark took a step forward and you took another back. He cocked his head to the side, “well… let me help you.” His seductive gaze doesn’t go unnoticed to you, but you have to think with your head for a second. You had already gone against your own “no more frat boys, they can’t commit” beliefs once, you couldn’t do it a second time. You had to quit while you were ahead.

“I’m going to head to bed,” you stepped down from the shower and onto the bathroom tile. Mark lost for words at your sudden distance, “what? Why? Let me take care of you… You haven’t-” Waving your hands, you cut him off not wanting to hear it, “Mark… Don’t. Let’s just leave this at this. Me blowing you because I owed you one…” when it comes out of your mouth, you realize just how ridiculous it all sounded.

Mark took a step toward you, also coming out of the shower and reached to grab his towel, wrapping it around his waist. “Leave it at this? Y/n… I don’t think you understand, I-”

“Mark, I know the kind of guy you are. It’s who your friends are, it’s who all the guys living in this house are, it’s who my fucking ex-boyfriend was. I really can’t do another guy who’s just going to fuck me like I’m an object and be under his charming douchey spell, thinking that he’s all mine. I already did it once and if I did it twice, I think it would kill me. I’m sorry if I led you on or whatever by sucking your dick and making you think that we were going to fuck… and as much as my body wants to, I know it would be smart for me.”

Despite the seriousness of your words and confession, Mark found himself chuckling at the end of your monologue. He’s laughing at your word choice of “sorry if I led you on or whatever by sucking your dick,” but you don’t think about it that way. You think he’s laughing at all of it.

Typical frat guy, you think.

When he noticed the way, your mouth turned into a frown, he feels his heart leap out of his chest. He didn’t want to see you upset… ever. If he could just take some time to talk out how he was feeling to you, then maybe you’d understand how he was – “Goodnight Mark. I’d ask you not to tell you friends about this, but I know you will.”

And just like that you’re gone.

Two weeks and there had been no words exchanged between you and Mark. He had tried countless times to get your attention and talk to you, but you acted as if he didn’t exist. It didn’t go unnoticed by the other people in the house. Bambam prided himself on picking up on sexual tension and when he saw the way you and Mark acted around each other on that day on the porch, he felt it. Sure, the two of you hadn’t said anything, but Bambam could feel the pull between the two of you.

Although previously you didn’t talk to Mark that often in general, Bambam could sense something had happened – something wasn’t right between the two of you. It made him upset to see his brother so down, so… emotional.

“Guys… We have to do something about this Mark and Y/n situation,” Bambam said as he watched Jaebeom and Youngjae practice their beer pong aim in the backyard.

Youngjae looked at him confused, “what do you mean Mark and Y/n situation? There’s something going on there?”

Bambam felt like he wanted to hit him. How Youngjae could be so clueless? He wasn’t sure. “Do you not understand basic human emotions?” The older boy blinked at him mindlessly, before going back to throw the ball at the cups on the other side of the table.

“So anyways… I was thinking we could-”

“That was two! That was two! It totally hit the side of the other cup before it went in!” Youngjae yelled, interrupting Bambam’s big idea.

“Are you kidding? No way. Just take the one or I won’t even give you that,” Jaebeom rolled his eyes, he had enough of Youngjae’s cheating.

“What do you mean you won’t even give me that one? It went in!”

“Guys!” Bambam yelled, interrupting their bickering over the trivial game. They both looked at him with wide eyes, “Can you listen to me? I have a plan.”

Yawning, you decided it was probably time to head in for the night. It had been another long week of trying not to think about Mark.

You barely knew anything about the guy… but for some reason you had this weird pull to him. Deep inside your stomach you had this feeling telling you that this was the guy for you, he could be the one. You pushed it all down, your mind was just playing tricks on you – you were delusional thinking he could be the one.

Heading down the hallway to the bathroom – yes, the same bathroom – to brush your teeth you spot Youngjae coming down the corner. You tried your best to avoid his gaze, it was better safe than sorry to just proceed by ignoring Mark’s friends too.

Out of the corner of your eye as you pass one another, you notice the strange way he stares at you. It’s almost in a diabolical way… but that wouldn’t make sense, right?

Weird.

You’re probably on your sixth yawn when you finally head back to your room, reaching the door and going to turn the handle. Except… the handle won’t turn and your door won’t open.

No, this can’t be happening right now…

Trying again a few more times, you realize it had somehow locked on you. And you… like the idiot you are, left the key inside when you went to the bathroom. Was God playing some kind of sick joke on you? How were you supposed to go to sleep tonight?

That’s when it dawned on you that there was only one option.

The President has a master key to all the rooms

Jaebeom’s words flashed in your head over and over again. You tried to think of something else that could get you back in your room and under your warm covers tonight, but you come up short. You had to go up to Mark’s room.

Slowly going up the stairs to the third floor, you find yourself on the borderline of passing out at how completely nauseous and lightheaded you feel. The only way you could truly make this out alive was if you just pretended to be confident.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The door swung open immediately after the third knock, Mark looking surprised to see you at his door.

He felt his hands grow clammy, “Uh… What’s up?”

“I-I locked myself out of my room… And I heard the President as the master key so… here I am.” Mark felt his heart fall at the reason for your visit. Some stupid part of him had thought that maybe you were here for him and not a key to your room, “yeah… just give me a minute.”

Mark stepped inside and you reluctantly follow him, letting the door shut behind you with a bang. Both of you jump at the noise and softly laugh when you notice.

“I get scared easily,” you mumbled.

Mark snorted, “I can tell.”

Crossing your arms, you moved towards him, “What’s that supposed to me?”

“What do you think? That you’re too scared to explore anything you have with someone, because you got hurt once. Tough, Y/n but getting hurt and let down is a part of life,” he looked at you once as he fumbled through his drawer, looking for the key.

“It’s not just that I’ve been hurt. You’re a-” He cut you off, rolling his eyes done with your overdone argument, “I’m a frat guy, I get it. We’re all the same, blah blah blah. Save it for your dissertation on how I’m scum for your Psych class or whatever.”

“I don’t think you’re scum,” you said softly.

Mark shut the drawer, unable to locate the key in this part of his desk and turned to you, “then why do you hate me so much?”

You shuffled in place, unsure of what do with all of these pent-up feelings that not even you were sure how to describe – and you were the one feeling them. “I don’t hate you. In fact, that’s the problem… I like you so much, I’m so attracted to you and I barely know you! I’ve had so many dreams about you that it’s made it all even worse.”

Before you could stop him, you felt Mark’s lips on yours and you find yourself being suffocated again – sidetracked from your original intentions of forgetting him. However, the way his mouth moved against yours and the way his tongue slipped past the crease of your lips made you not care. But of course, he was a good kisser, he probably did this all the time to all the girls.

You felt his fingers grip the hem of your top. He bunched the material just below your breasts as his hands splayed across your ribcage. He allowed you to pull away, your chest heaving and your eyes closed, before he tugged the material of your top up and over your head. The two of you looked at each other, as if absorbing what the two of you were doing.

When he dropped the fabric onto the floor, he moved his mouth to your neck. He can’t help himself as he marked your collarbones with his teeth, every inch of you is practically covered with marks when he’s done. While your mind is caught up in the feeling of his lips on your neck, his hands moved to cup your breasts.

He made you feel so damn good, you didn’t care anymore.

“Mark,” you breathed as you shifted your head to give him better access, “d-do whatever you want. Fuck me however you want. Just do something.” 

You could feel the vibrations of Mark’s laughter against your neck as he reached around your back to unsnap your bra before he pulled away to watch the material fall to the floor. His eyes glued to your chest for a moment, his pupils darkening with lust, before he returned his lips to yours in a heated kiss. 

Your hands dipped beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. You allowed your hands a moment to roam, before you break the kiss and tugged the material of his shirt up and over his head. Once again you feel hypnotized by his chest, just as you had been the first night you met him. You wanted to trace your finger over every muscle, every vain and every inch of skin. Mark helped you out of your pajama pants and returned his lips to your neck. 

“As much as I would love to do fuck you until you feel me in every single part of your body, I want to take my time. To show you just how beautiful you are, just how much I want you.” 

In your sex induced brain you have a moment of clarity to consider his words. Take his time? Weren’t frat boys supposed to be rushed, quick and just be rough with you? You had not a doubt in your mind that Mark would be able to deliver on that, based on how he had first acted around you… but slow? Sensual? Was he even capable of that? You weren’t expecting him to be so… soft and delicate. It wasn’t a part of his brand. 

This time when Mark brings his lips back to you, they’re much softer – he kissed you at an unhurried pace as if he had all the time in the world with you. He gently nudged you to lay on your back, your fingers going to tangle themselves in his fluffy hair. He brings his fingers to curl at the waistband of your panties, “is this okay?” he breathed against your lips. You feel yourself begin to grow more wet at his ask for consent. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled, your eyes closed and your hands tugging at his hair, “more than okay.” 

With your permission, Mark slipped his hand into your panties. Brushing your folds lazily, his fingers gentle and unhurried as he allowed you to pull away and catch your breath. When he brushes your clit and felt yourself jolt in surprise beneath him. He attached his lips to your neck and began pressing kisses along the column of your throat. 

No words are spoken as you moved one hand from his hair and gently squeezed his hardening cock over his sweats. Mark moaned against your skin and moved his fingers a little quicker but not changing his lazy pace as he worked to rile you up. It doesn’t take long as he slipped a finger into your heat and hears you release a content sigh at the feeling. 

“You’re so gorgeous usually,” he whispered against the column of your throat as one of his hands go up to pay attention to your breasts, kneading them gently. “But, fuck, you’re even better naked.” 

At that you laughed, “You’re not so bad yourself Mr. President, you know for a frat guy and all.” He smiled at you, capturing your lips in another kiss, nudging his sweatpants and briefs down. 

The continual strokes of his fingers, working you open along with his hand on your breast makes you feel dizzy. You attempt to focus your attention elsewhere, pressing kisses to his heated skin as he rubbed your clit with his thumb. 

You could feel Mark shifting above you, reaching for the stash of condoms next to his bed, before he ripped open the foil packet and pulled away to roll the latex onto his length. His slowness practically drove you to insanity, you just wanted him inside of you now. 

“Mark please, I want it.” 

Smiling at you, he leaned forward to press a kiss on your forehead, “princess you’re going to get it all.” 

Mark returned his lips to yours as he sank into you. His pace is slow, lazy and soft, as he began fucking into you. You had always thought that slow and sensual sex was the best kind of sex, but maybe you were wrong. With Mark it felt like your whole body was on fire – it was pure torture. The way he jutted his hips into you at a rhythm had your core aching for more. It was like all of your senses were heightened, everything felt so much more pleasureful with the way your body was hanging on every thrust. 

He buried his face into the crook of your neck and groaned as he felt you tug at his hair again. You felt like you were going to go insane and you needed something to grab onto. For you, Mark was willing to do or be whatever you wanted – something he had never remotely thought of doing for anyone ever, including the guys in the fraternity. He was ready to be at your beck and call, to take you like this – making you feel every single stroke, every single time pump into you. 

Mark brings his hand between the two of you back to your core and circled your clit once again, allowing you to fall over the edge. “I know you’re going to look so pretty when you cum, please cum for me. I’ve been thinking about it since that night in the shower.” 

His mention of the shower brings you back to thinking about how good it felt to have him in your mouth, how good he tasted when he came on your tongue, how much you’d like to be on your knees for him again. These final thoughts have you clenching around Mark, his groaning getting more consistent telling you that he’s close. He nipped at your skin and sucked the spot under your jaw at the same time he thrusted himself at a semi-faster pace, hitting your g-spot. That finally makes every part of your body go numb, and you feel your hips buck forward involuntarily, everything in you spasming. 

As he watched your strong release and felt your walls throb around him, Mark began falling over the edge himself. You felt his hips stutter, his breathing shallow, and his hand clenched your hip firmly as he spilled into the condom and you found yourself wanting the moment to last forever as he remained on top of you. You feel him everywhere, warm and solid and entirely him. He pressed a kiss to your lips, another lazy peck, before he pulled away to tie the condom, tossing it somewhere on the ground of his messy room. 

“Are you really just going to throw that on the ground?” you laughed. Mark shrugged, “what if you forget about it later?” 

He smiled, wrapping his arms around your naked body and brings you as close to him as he can, “nah there’s no way I would forget this.”

Two Months Later

It was hard to believe that summer was finally ending and the new school year was right around the corner. No longer would be stuck in what you once considered was your own personal Hell – the Lambda Chi Alpha house. 

The personal Hell had somehow shaped itself into one of the biggest blessings of your life. It had given you Mark Tuan. 

“Finally, you’re home!” Mark smiled, patting the open spot next to him on the love seat at your return from work. 

As soon as you plopped down, Mark pulled you close to him, resting one arm around your shoulder and the other on your thigh, “want the aux cord?” he mumbled into your shoulder, nuzzling the side of his head against it. 

“No! She always gets aux cord when she’s porchin’ it up with us! It’s not fair! She plays that weird K-pop stuff and makes us the laughing stock of the whole street!” Jaebeom whined. 

You laughed, “Don’t knock it until you try it!” 

“I have tried it and I hate it,” Jaebeom quipped back, crossing his arms to show his firm disagreement on the matter. 

“Fine let’s do One Direction this time.” 

“Like that’s any better!” 

“Can you guys shut up I’m trying to think of something to say to that girl,” Youngjae grumbled in annoyance at your bickering with Jaebeom. 

You looked to see a girl walking by the house. Judging on her large backpack, casual clothes and tired face she had been at the library. You doubt she would be up for any unwarranted cat calling. “Don’t say anything!” 

Youngjae looked at you confused, “what… I’m trying to shoot my shot.” 

“As a girl, please trust me when I say don’t.” Youngjae pursed his lips in thought, “not even if I just tell her she has a nice smile?” You look at the girl frowning, “she’s not smiling and no not even that.” 

“Get a load of this guy,” Bambam said as a guy in Phi Kappa Tau letters walks by – most likely to his house. Judging on all of the times you’ve spent on the porch with the boys now, you knew what was coming. Standing up, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “PHI KAPPA TAU SUCKS.” The guy turned to the porch, eyeing Bambam and flipped him off. 

Sitting down, Bambam shakes his head, “it’s because he knows it’s true.” 

“Will you ever listen to me and realize that it’s stupid to shout at another frat?” you asked. 

Bambam shook his head firmly, “you can’t just get rid of tradition Y/n.” 

Mark firmly nuzzled his head into your shoulder again, kissing the side of your neck, “pay attention to me.” A clingy boyfriend might be annoying to some people and at one point in time you also thought that way, but with Mark you couldn’t get enough of it. The way that he was so dominant and attentive in the bedroom, but then so needy and clingy when it came to being in public. Especially when you were with the other guys.

“Anything for my number one frat star,” you cooed, pinching his cheek.

“You know I hate it when you call me that!” Mark whined, “you pay more attention to the guys then you do to me.” As he pouted you leaned in to give him a peck, but instead he brings the hand resting on your thigh up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss. Youngjae, Jaebeom and Bambam all groan.

“Y/n?” Your name being called breaks you out your bubble with Mark. The bubble that made you feel like you two were the only people in the world that existed. Pulling apart from his lips, you both turned to see who the culprit is that ruined your moment.

“What the hell are you doing at Lambda?” Ryan asked. It doesn’t hurt to see him again; it was just annoying.

“Back from your lake house I take it Sigma Chi?” Mark asked. You had told Mark everything about what went down with you and Ryan – and if looks could kill… Ryan would already be in his grave.

“I’m not talking to you,” Ryan rolled his eyes, “what the hell are you doing at Lambda?” He asked again.

Without thinking about it, you find yourself standing up and cupping your hands around your mouth just as Bambam had done earlier, “SIGMA CHI SUCKS!”

Ryan couldn’t believe his eyes, he stood there blankly on the sidewalk in front of the house, “what? Very funny Y/n… I know you don’t mean-”

You do it again, “SIGMA CHI SUCKS!” The boys on the porch with you begin to laugh.

Ryan pointed a finger towards you, waving it in the air, “now just wait a minute-”

“SIGMA CHI SUCKS!”

Your ex-boyfriend clenched his jaw, “You weren’t even a good fuck anyways!” The words should hurt you, but they don’t because you know it’s not true.

“Uh… Yeah she fucking is,” Mark retorted, standing up next to you, “why don’t you go home Sigma Chi?” And just like that, you and the guys on the porch have your second middle finger of the day – this time from your ex-boyfriend.

As he walked off in the direction of the Sigma Chi house you all laughed at how blatantly offended, he was at just the fact that you had said his frat sucked. It was middle school taunting, but of course it would work on someone like Ryan. Ryan was a special breed of asshole and it makes you feel stupid to think that you had once grouped Mark with him. All of the Lambda boys.

Mark kisses your shoulder, “what are you thinking about?” His smile melted you – it always does. He was one you had been waiting for and somehow your body and subconscious knew it before you did.

“Just how happy I am to have you by my side Mr. President.”

“I’m happy to have you by my side too,” Mark hummed, but soon he pauses, “unless it’s during beer pong… because you really suck.”

“Mark!”

[mdawritings]

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 7

I.VII

Masterlist

Warning: rough sex, degradation, sub drop

Song(s): “Power” by Bastille

After your call, Hotch finds himself straightening up his living room, cleaning the day-old cups, plates, and bottles off the table, and washing all the dishes in the sink. He’s not sure why he’s so worried about keeping the place clean, but he just knows you’ll make some comment about it when you get here. You’re always making sarcastic, snippy comments about everything he does. That’s not to say he doesn’t laugh at you or enjoy your biting humor, it’s refreshing to meet someone driven who is still able to maintain levity and positivity.

His eyes dart to the clock, checking the time once again, hoping you’ll knock on the door soon. His mind wanders back to your previous rendezvous in his office. He feels the blood rush to his face and neck, already feeling excited to see you. You’re absolutely wicked… and he loves it.

He’s hypnotized by you. It’s in the way you always press that pen of yours to your bottom lip and pull it down a little. You know just how to catch his attention and make him stumble over his words, and he’s pretty sure you manage to do it without even consciously trying. That’s what mystifies him the most. The way you’re so naïve to your own power over him.

He’s sure that when asked, you would merely deny it, laughing off the idea. You would argue that it’s he who has the power in this relationship. Deep down, it's you. You will always have power over him. He is truly risking everything for you. It’s not like he hasn’t done all of this before, but with you he’s already taken more risks than ever. He’s broken a daily meeting schedule. He’s texting you from his private number. He’s inviting you over to his house.

The loud knock at the door pulls him out of his thoughts and he rushes over to answer.

He lets a large smile come over his face but it falls once he sees you. Your cheeks are flushed, your hair falling around your face wildly, probably from running your hands through it so much. Your arms are firmly crossed against your chest. You look as if you’re actually about to explode with rage.

"Please, be less excited to be here," Hotch tries to joke and tease you but you barely crack a smile, pushing past him into the house.

"Fuck Charles Miller," You groan out and drop onto the couch in Hotch’s living room.

Hotch is plenty familiar with Charles Miller. In all honesty, he would love to never hear about or see Charles Miller ever again. "He did something to you?"

You glance over at him, biting your bottom lip fiercely, "He kissed me. Well… I kissed him." You pause, "No he kissed me."

The room is completely silent for a second, the only sound is your heavy breathing as you attempt to calm down. Hotch isn’t sure what to say. For starters, he’s definitely not happy to hear you’re going around kissing other men. Boys. Not men. Charlie Miller is hardly a man.

"It’s just… who the fuck does he think he is? I’m just absolutely sick of men who think that just because you show them the smallest modicum of kindness, it means you want to sleep with them. For fuck’s sake, Charlie is my best friend, was he just thinking about sleeping with me this whole time?" You heave out another long sigh, "Listen I’m not entirely innocent, I kissed him back but he was so touchy, you know? So really it’s his fault. And mine… I don’t know."

Hotch knows that you could ramble on forever if he doesn’t say something. To be honest, he doesn’t care about the specifics of who kissed who. Something about that boy’s hands all over you makes his anger levels rise. "He did what?" His voice is strained and he sounds much angrier than he intends to.

Your eyes snap up to his, obviously aware of the intense tone of his voice. "Did you not listen to what I just said?"

"I heard what you said," He feels himself grinding his teeth together, tightening every muscle in his jaw. He crosses his arms, holding one hand up to his face, rubbing his fingers together slightly. Your eyes dart down to his hand and that’s when he stops the small motion. He’s doing the hand thing again. The thing you pointed out to him. Now that he’s aware of it, he feels intensely vulnerable. Almost exposed. You can tell this is getting to him and it’s because of that damned hand thing.

"Are you angry with me?" You stand up from the couch and Hotch stays grounded in place. What he really wants to do is walk over to you, wrap his hand around your neck, yank you close to him, and kiss you until you’re weak in the knees. He wants to remind you just how good you are with him. Just how amazing it feels to be passionate with you.

"No," His curt reply gives him away. He can’t pretend that this information about you and Charlie isn’t eating away at him.

"You’re mad at me." You say it again, as a statement of fact. In reality, he’s not angry with you. He’s angry with himself. He’s angry at himself for letting you affect him so much. He’s angry at himself because he knows he’s growing attached. He knows it’s not fair to be possessive with you. He can’t ask you to be exclusively sleeping with him when he has no intentions to pursue anything real with you. It’s a physical attraction. Does he enjoy spending time with you? Yes. Does he ever foresee himself spending time with you without having sex with you? Probably not.

"I’m not mad at you." Hotch shakes his head slightly but his closed-off body language is giving him away. He curses himself again for teaching you so well. For telling you all about reading body language to understand people better. He curses himself because he sees the way those wide eyes of yours run over his body, drinking in every detail of him. Your eyes are back on his face, tracing over the lines of his face. He’s always prided himself on a good poker face, but it’s insanely obvious the discomfort he feels at the current moment.

You scoff, "I’m going to leave. I can’t… it’s late and I don’t feel like fighting with you over this," You keep your arms firmly crossed and walking back towards the front door, but Hotch shoots his hand out to grab your arm. He can’t let you simply walk out of here.

"I don’t want to fight with you," His replies are short. He doesn’t really know what to say. He can’t possibly tell you that the jealousy surging through him is burning him. It’s shredding him apart and he doesn’t know if he can hold it all in. He doesn’t want anyone else to put their hands on you the way that he puts his hands on you. No one will appreciate you the way he does. He understands you. He knows how you work. He knows how your mind works. That’s why he gets to have you. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

He understands your drive for success, your passion to be at the top. He recognizes the same qualities in you as he sees in himself. There’s a long moment where the two of you just stand there. His hand firmly gripping your upper arm and your eyes searching his facial expression for any sign of what he might be thinking.

"You have no right to be mad at me. For all I know you could be sleeping with every other bright-eyed, ambitious law student that runs up to you after class begging for extra help," He feels you starting to pull away from him but he keeps his grip on your arm tight to keep you close.

He shakes his head subtly, furrowing his brows, "But I’m not. I haven’t slept with anyone else since I started this with you." He pauses for a second, "Have you been sleeping with other people?"

"No, no," You shake your head, "It’s just you. I’m only sleeping with you."

Hotch expects that to ease the knots and turning of his stomach but it doesn’t. He still feels the anger and jealousy coursing through him like fire rippling under his skin.

——

"I don’t like that he��" Hotch pauses as he glances down at his hand that is still firmly wrapped around your arm. You can sense that he's struggling with his words. He’s looking for the right way to say what he’s thinking. It confuses you. Hotch confuses you. How could someone so intelligent, so composed, so utterly ruthless in the courtroom, so attention-grabbing, so demanding and dominant in every sphere of life struggle to form words around you?

"I don’t like that he put his hands on you. I don’t like that he touched your body." Hotch’s jaw clicks into place, tensed with clenched teeth. Now it’s your turn to struggle with your words. What could you possibly say to alleviate what he’s feeling? You can’t tell him how Charlie had his hand up your skirt. So you do the only thing that you know will make him feel better. The only thing that will pull him out of his head right now.

You move in close and kiss him passionately. Immediately, you can sense just how riled up he is. His hands race over your body, grabbing any flesh he can in his needy grip.

Hotch pulls away from you for a second, breathless, cheeks flushed, "I don’t want anyone else touching you like this," His voice comes out as a low gravelly moan and he kisses you again.

Between kisses and moans, you utter, ‘Bedroom?’ and Hotch simply takes you through his home, only breaking the kiss for a second to lead you upstairs. He grabs your hand in his, practically pulling you up the stairs behind him. Within seconds of stepping into his room, he has you pinned up against the wall behind you, his lips passionately meeting yours.

"Care to show me all the ways that no one else is allowed to touch me?" You smirk as his head burrows its way under your jaw, his mouth nipping lightly at your skin.

"You know one of these days that smart mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble," He grabs your face, shoving his thumb into your mouth. You grin at him as you slowly suck, swirling your tongue around his thumb, showing him just how much your ‘smart mouth’ can do. When he drags his thumb from your mouth, he trails a line of saliva down your chin but doesn’t bother to wipe it away.

"Sorry, sir," You pout slightly and from the way his glossy eyes run down your body, you know that you two won’t be able to tease each other for long tonight. Both of you just need each other right now. Your body is practically begging him, the deep fire of arousal growing in the pit of your stomach.

Every single touch sets you on fire and you know that together you are explosive. You and hotch are dynamic. He takes your breath away just to shock you back to life with every electrifying touch, look, kiss, and word.

In this moment, as the two of you barrel backward towards the bed, you’re aware just how deep into this you are already. You’re already being sucked into this whirlwind of an affair with Hotch. But if there's anything you know of illicit affairs, eventually the fire will dwindle. The excitement of it all will fade. You don’t know when, and you don’t know how, but you just know it will. But you don’t have time to consider that now, while Hotch continues his assault on your neck, his hands traveling all the way down your torso, his fingertips featherlight on your skin contrasting with the small sharp nips he gives your neck and collarbone.

His fingertips ghost up under your shirt, tracing over the bare skin on your abdomen and you let out a hiss over your clenched teeth when his warm hands begin to massage your breasts through the cups of your bra.

"You don’t need anyone else," His hands make quick work of removing your shirt and pants and unclasping your bra. You attempt to keep up with his fast pace reaching for his shirt and pulling it up over his head. "I think I need to remind you," Once all your clothing now lives in a pile on the floor, Hotch moves to hover over you, his lips inching ever closer to yours but never touching, "That no one can fuck you like I can."

"Please," You whine helpless and submissive in his presence, "I need you, sir."

"No one can touch you like this," Hotch leans in close to murmur by your ear. Your heart is racing as his fingers thrust into you at an agonizingly slow start. You scrunch your eyes shut in an attempt to contain your pleasure.

"Eyes open, look at me pretty girl," He grabs your chin in his hands, tilting your face up towards him, "I want to see your face when I make you come."

His fingers work faster and deeper, rough and unrelenting, sending you closer and closer to your orgasm. You lean up, to press another kiss to his lips, your legs feeling shaky as you struggle to breathe properly, the tension building in your body like a sneeze.

You’re reduced to a series of incoherent pants and chants but you settle on just begging him. "Please sir, please! Please make me come, Sir."

Hotch doesn’t let up on his motions but reaches to rub your clit with his thumb. The sensation is enough to send you toppling over the edge, screaming and moaning his name as you tighten around his fingers.

Hotch practically lifts you entirely up off the bed, to flip you over so that your face is pressed into the mattress. He runs his rough, calloused hands over your ass, which is turning a myriad of lovely colors at this point. You hiss at the sensitivity which elicits a wicked chuckle from Hotch, "I see I have a lasting impression on you," He braces himself, rubbing just the tip of his cock against you. You attempt to squirm around, hoping to gain just a little bit more contact from him. Your heart is still racing wildly, your breath coming in short pants after your first orgasm.

He immediately buries himself inside of you and your eyes start to roll back in your head.

"Oh fuck daddy, you’re so big," You let out a strangled groan and cry of pleasure, your body trembling and shaking uncontrollably.

"And you’re going to take all of me, aren’t you doll?" His hands claw and grab at your ass and hips, as he attempts to steady himself. He thrusts into you, bottoming out before pulling out entirely just to slam into you over and over again. That, in combination with the dull aching pain from your bottom, causes you to grab the comforter and sheets on the bed tightly in your fists.

Your mind is spinning with the combination of pain and pleasure, biting down harshly on your bottom lip to contain your loud cries.

Hotch tangles a hand in your hair, simultaneously yanking you up closer while he bends down close to your ear, "Don’t go quiet on me now, baby," His voice gets caught in his throat a little in between moans, "There’s no one else here. Let me hear just how good I make you feel."

Hotch releases your head forcefully and you have to stick your arms out to keep from smashing your face into the mattress. You let out a series of curses as Hotch continues his reckless pace. He raises his hand to smack your ass again and this time it hurts, like really fucking hurts and you can’t help but scream out, "Fuck!"

"I’m gonna come again, sir!" You moan louder and louder with each unrelenting thrust and you attempt to crane your head around to look at him. Your arms are shaking and you can barely hold yourself up as you feel your orgasm take over your whole body, vision blurring, your mind falling into the foggy high.

"Good girl," Hotch grunts and continues to fuck you through your orgasm, which just seems to heighten the immense pleasure coursing through you. You’re so spent you don't even realize that he’s finished and his thrusts have come to a shuddering halt. He rolls over next to you, and the both of you just stay there for a few moments as you attempt to catch your breath. You don’t roll over to your back, way too weak to even move at the moment. You feel Hotch’s arm tuck underneath your body, helping you roll over, sliding you up on the bed a little.

"You alright?" He looks over you. You finally get a good look at him and you smile widely at the small pieces of hair that have fallen out of place. There's a slight sheen on his forehead and cheeks, and the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he attempts to catch his breath has you feeling flustered all over again.

"Mhm," You moan and stretch your arms up, your muscles already growing sore. He nods in response and turns his attention away from you, throwing his head back, leaning against the headboard. You tuck your legs under the cool sheets on his bed, finally getting some nice relief for your completely bruised and flaming hot bottom.

You both sit there in silence for a few minutes, the only sound is the soft hum of the ceiling fan which seems to be what’s drawing Hotch’s attention. Your attention, however, can’t be pulled away from him. You trace your eyes over his hooked nose, his soft lips, his sharp jawline.

You avert your eyes before you speak to him, "I don’t want other people… other women to get to touch you like this either."

The room goes silent. He’s much quieter than you expect. Not that Hotch is much of a conversationalist after sex, or even in general. The space between your bodies suddenly seems like a great divide when nearly seconds ago your bodies couldn’t be any closer. He huffs softly.

"What?" Your ego takes a heavy blow from the way he dismissively lets air out of his nose again. You force a little laugh to hide your confusion and discomfort, "Is that so unreasonable for me to ask of you?"

"I already told you earlier, I haven’t slept with anyone since we started sleeping together," He shifts in the bed. You swear you see his fingers start to rub together but as soon as your eyes dart down to his hand he stops.

"Well, that isn’t exactly the same as what I’m asking of you." Your firmer tone catches Hotch’s attention. He looks over at you.

"When would I find the time to sleep with someone else. I’m busy with the three courses I teach and I have my hands full with you already." His jaw is set tight, his eye line unwavering from the focus on your face. There is not even a ghost of a smile on his face. He’s stone-cold, unreadable, completely stoic.

"Your hands full? What does that even mean?" Scrunching up your brows you attempt to move a little closer to him. It feels as if the room just got colder and the space between the two of you grows by the second.

"I spend a lot of time with you, that’s all. There’s no one else I would sleep with right now anyway." He starts to pull off the covers and swings his legs around to the side of the bed, forcing you to look at his back. He’s hunched over, running his hands over his face, resting his elbows on his thighs. You can see the frustration with you in his body language. I mean his body is practically screaming at you to shut up and leave him alone. Have you really upset him that much by simply asking him not to see other people?

That’s when you start gnawing at your bottom lip. He’s dodging your request. He’s giving you responses, but not a simple, ‘I won’t sleep with anyone else.’ His responses are conditional. He’s not sleeping with anyone else just because there isn’t anyone else who interests him. But if there was someone who did? Would he sleep with them? Even though he has you?

It’s wildly unfair. You’re not allowed to see anyone else but he gets to dance around your question and act all vague and mysterious., Not only does it show a lack of respect for you, but it's becoming increasingly clear that he doesn’t see you as his equal in any way. He doesn’t believe he has to hold himself to the standards that you hold him to.

"It’s late. You should get home soon, I’m sure you have class early tomorrow." Hotch gets up from the bed, walking into his bathroom.

You hear the shower water run in the bathroom and Hotch steps back into the room, walking to his dresser to get out clean clothes. You’re speechless, barely managing to get out the word, "What?" You sit up to get a better look at him, pulling the sheets to wrap around your body.

"I can call you a car or something so you can get home," He nods, adjusting the towel wrapped around his waist. Is he really kicking you out on your ass at this hour? It’s nearly two in the morning, and he’s kicking you out?

"No, I can call a car myself," You gather up your clothes in your arms, wishing to be clothed and out of his home as soon as possible. Hotch wordlessly disappears into his bathroom. The door closes and it seems to rattle you deep down. That last slam of a door is the one thing that seems to finally break you out of the dreamy, lust-filled haze that has been your time with Professor Hotchner. The rose-colored glasses come off for you to realize that this agreement is inherently flawed.

That’s the thing about torrid affairs with their stolen glances and electric touches. Eventually, the spark dies. The mystery and thrill of it all fade away. Eventually, it stalls. It starts to die. And from there?

Well, there’s only one way to go from there.

Down.

Chapter 8: I.VIII →

[arse-crack-thistle]

quality time

rwrb and the five love languages | part four

in which bea nearly crashes from the stress of party-planning (aroace rep)

Princess Beatrice buzzes around The Masquerade, double-checking place cards, straightening table settings, and pulling dried rose petals from the centerpieces. She rented the concert venue for the night to throw a modern Valentine’s gala to benefit Henry’s queer youth center in London. He and Alex are around here somewhere, probably hooking up in a broom cupboard and definitely not nitpicking every detail like Bea is. Her assistant follows her with a clipboard and updates her on the schedule: t-minus three hours until guests arrive and, in the meantime, she needs to give final approval, soundcheck with the band, and get dressed up. Jeans and a blazer, while royal casual, are not party-appropriate, and tonight needs to be perfect.

She usually hates royal events like galas, but this one is special. Not because it’s Valentine’s Day—Bea could not give two fucks about the holiday—but because ever since coming out as asexual around Christmas, she’s been looking for an opportunity to help other queer people, or at least give them a public figure they could point to and say, “See Mum and Dad, she’s like me.” Henry and Alex got their chance, and now this time, it’s hers.

The stage lights up with pink and red; it’s cheesy, but Bea digs it. The concert was the one thing she would not budge on with her royal event planner. Did she want to reach into wealthy pockets? Yes. Did she still want to have a good time? Hell yes. And the band she’s joining for one night only happens to be just as queer as the charity they’re supporting.

Permanent Record, local to London, tune their instruments on stage. Bea has met them dozens of times over the last month and vibed with them instantly. Margot, the too-cool lead singer always decked out in a leather jacket and Docs, is ace like her, and as much as Bea has wanted to get to know them, there’s been no time. Turns out, party-planning and party-executing steals the host away from all meaningful human connection. She’s only been able to keep up with Henry because he’s partly responsible for this event.

The pit, full of tables covered in pink and gold, finally looks perfect enough for Bea to hand-off any other minute fixes to the planner and finally have her soundcheck with the band. But then, a large crash comes from the back of the venue, and she hears a loud shriek coming from a familiar voice, the one that’s been shrill and disapproving for the last month. When Bea runs up, she sees hundreds of shattered champaign flutes and her planner on the floor, blood oozing from her hands.

This cannot be happening. The only reason Bea kept this woman around was to take most of the day-of duties off her plate. But she’s in the back of an ambulance now, and Henry is nowhere to be found. Bea’s stress levels go from tolerable to unbearable as she orders her assistant to track down replacement flutes. The staff are quick to fill her other requests: a couple of people start sweeping, someone runs off to find her co-host, another tells the band Bea’s soundcheck will be postponed, and a brave soul steps up as a temporary assistant and follows her around the back tables to check for broken glass. Bea knows she doesn’t have to be the one to do this, but it seems like the success of this event lies solely one her shoulders. If something goes wrongs, it’s her face—not Henry’s—in the papers the next day. Powder Princess Crashes and Burns at Gay Ball. Christ.

After an hour, everything is sorted. There’s no glass. The planner is getting stiches. Permanent Record has started their soundcheck and sound amazing. But even their chill indie tunes can’t calm the princess. She needs to get on stage, but her stylist specifically requested she have at least two hours to work his magic, which is not going to happen.

Bea tells her assistant to get her stylist and his team to the venue, because she won’t be able to leave, and warn him he’ll only have an hour at best. Henry and Alex have already taken off to get ready, and she has to remind herself to smack them later for abandoning her.

She tugs off her blazer, drapes it over a chair, and rolls up her sleeves. If she does get her hands on a guitar, she’ll explode. It’s all she can think of to stop her from raiding the bar at the back.

“Better late than never, eh, Princess?” Margot says as she huffs on stage.

One of the stagehands gives Bea her beautiful sleek, black Fender Stratocaster, and her anxiety reduces itself to a hum. Music can’t cure all, but it certainly keeps her from wrecking every good thing in her life.

“Let’s just play,” she says.

But it’s anything but perfect. Whatever chemistry she had with Permanent Record somehow jumped into the Thames between their last rehearsal and now because this is an absolute travesty and she’s only playing two songs with them tonight. She’s forgotten measures of one song and can’t find the chords fast enough in her solo of the other. Utter shit.

Why does she even fucking bother?

She always fucks everything up. Always. Why did she think she could put this on? Sure, she’s chaired these events before, but not ones she actually cares about, not ones she’s actually put her heart into. Christ, no wonder. She should’ve known it would turn out like this. She’s the anti-Midas; everything she touches turns to shit.

No kid will ever see her as a queer role model. She’s the girl they point to and say, “See Mum and Dad, what a waste.”

She needs a hit so fucking bad.

Which is why she has to get out of here ASAP. Before she does anything she’ll regret. She won’t slip again, and she won’t be the reason this gala fails. Henry can handle it without her.

So when Margot calls for a five-minute break, Bea excuses herself and hands off her guitar. On her way out the door, she tells the stagehand to find her assistant and tell her to have Henry take over. The hard part is over thanks to the planner actually being brilliant at her job, even if she and Bea would never get along.

No doubt, cameras are already lined up outside, so she hides in one of the green rooms and locks the door behind her. If she just takes a deep breath and calms down, she can bring herself back from the edge.

Five things she can see: The 1975, Arctic Monkeys, Oasis, Solange, and Fiona Apple’s signatures on the artist wall.

Four things she can feel: the worn leather on a crusty couch, the chipped-paint walls, her toes in her shoes, and her fingers through her light brown hair.

Three things she can hear: the ticking from the clock, the click of her heels as she paces, and a knock at the door.

Two things she can smell: decades-old musk from artists past—no doubt coming from the couch—and her light perfume on her wrist.

One thing she can taste: a hint of coffee from earlier.

She breathes in and out, and the knock on the door continues.

“Bea, are you in there? Could you let me in?” Margot. Essentially a stranger. She supposes it’s better than facing a disappointed Henry, so she opens the door and promptly relocks it as soon as they’re inside.

“Christ, this place is legendary, isn’t it? Everyone’s played here—is that Bob Dylan? Fucking nuts,” Margot says, pointing to the wall.

“I’ve seen loads of people here. Always wanted to play here myself,” Bea tells them. She traces Lizzo’s signature. That was a fun night; Nora and June flew out for a girls’ night, which was ultimately crashed by Pez.

“Me too, and the rest of band as well, I suppose.” Margot looks at Bea and smiles. They’re brown eyes crinkle in the corner, and it reminds her of Alex. “And now we get to, eh, Princess? Couldn’t’ve gotten here without you. The whole world knows Permanent Record now.”

“You could’ve done it without me,” she says. “You will tonight anyway.”

“Hey.” They reach for Bea’s hand. “Everyone has some hiccups before a big gig. It’ll be grand, but only if you’re there. This is your night as much as it is ours or the youth center’s. You have no idea how important it is for your lot to shine a light on causes people shy away from.”

That makes Bea smile. For so long she wanted to hide from her position. She wanted freedom to do whatever she pleased, but now she understands the power she has, even if people still see her as “The Powder Princess.” No matter what she wears, millions of fashion influencers share links to her clothes. If she walks into a restaurant, their yearly profits skyrocket. When she told the world she was ace, thousands of people messaged her and said the same. One of them was Margot, telling her about their undiscovered band from South London.

She tells Margot how that was one of the first times she really felt like herself. Completely at peace with who she is. How that peace got away from her and turned this gala into a near-panic-attack-inducing event, she doesn’t know.

“Have you let on how stressed you’ve been to anyone?” Margot asks. The two sit together on the couch after Margot bravely plopped themself down on the dirty, old thing.

“Hadn’t the time,” she says. Truthfully, Bea doesn’t think she’s had a genuine conversation with anyone since the gala’s conception.

Margot throws their hands in the air. “Well, there you go then! You’ve got to take the time! To take care of yourself. To hang out with your mates. Just to have some goddamn fun, Bea! Come on! You think I’d be a functioning human if I didn’t let loose with my mates every now and then? This—” They gesture to their body, covered in tattoos and tattered black clothing. “Doesn’t happen on its own.”

Bea laughs. It’s been so long since she’s laughed from anything other than stress. “Right, so how does this all happen then?” She swirls her hand in Margot’s direction.

As they chat, Bea relaxes. They talk about their families and uni and music and coming out. Bea tells Margot about the time she and the gang went to the karaoke bar where Henry got wasted and sang Queen horrifically. Margot tells her about the time in year twelve when they got dared to try out for the school play and ended up playing an old man in the most unbelievable bald cap.

Eventually, the two of them pull out their phones and play a few games of Among Us until Bea’s desperate assistant finds her and pleads for her to get ready though the door. They only have an hour before guests arrive.

“You all right?” Margot asks. “Want to go out there and try again?”

Funny how it doesn’t seem so scary anymore. How it only took a short break, a nice chat, and a little pink astronaut to put Bea at ease. She smiles. The notes come back to her fingertips.

check out the rest of my rwrb and the five love languages series: part one, part two, part three, and part five. (links to come as they’re released)

listen, my permanent headcanon is aroace bea and you will never convince me otherwise and i will never write her as anything else bc i love her so much!! (that being said, if you ship her with anyone, i totally understand). also, i reference a fic of mine i wrote for winterfest so if you want to check out my version of bea’s coming out, you can do that here! and finally, i know this wasn’t a romantic fic for romance week but like i said in part one, valentine’s day is different for everyone. <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

[the-fifth-marauder03]

PAPERWORK

Bucky x reader

Notes: Please go easy on me this is my first ever smut. I'm v v sorry if it's bad but please comment and tell me what you thought. Seriously please please please comment

Word: almost 4,000

Summary: After a long mission comes lots of paperwork. Y/n had doesn't want to do paperwork, she wants to go to her room and deal with the frustration Bucky caused. She almost makes it too, if it wasn't for Bucky insisting they do the paperwork right then. What happens when he notices her acting strange?

WARNINGS: its smut so 18+ obviously. Dirty talk, rough sex, fingering. and some other stuff so if you're uncomfortable leave.

The mission was long.

 

What was originally only supposed to be a week-long mission to collect intel went sour and turned into two weeks then three. The first days of the mission had gone smoothly, the pair had gathered what they needed and were looking forward to sleeping in their beds. But as luck would normally treat the avengers, someone had tipped off the arms dealer that Bucky and y/n were watching him and on the last day, he sent to of his goons to kidnap the two. For two weeks they tried to coax at least one of the guards into their cell but that proved impossible, until the arms dealer's son, who was much like Phil Coulson, came to aid them. Once they were supplied with weapons and a way to the exit it took y/n and Bucky a meagre hour to take down the entire operation.

When they finally reached the quinjet y/n took the time to calm down, Bucky had been killing her for three weeks. In the beginning, it was fine she could easily ignore her mounting frustrations but every time she would calm herself down he was there to build her back up. It started small. While they were doing the surveillance part of the mission he would drum his fingers on his thigh and bite his lip and if that wasn't enough to drive y/n mad, it was his constant joking. Y/n was 100% certain that if his mouth was that dirty in a causal setting then it was just plain filthy in bed. Even while they were locked in a cell he would do things that drove y/n crazy. For the first week, he would plant his feet and pull at the door with all his might giving y/n a perfect view of his physic. When his attempts would fail he would grunt and curse up a storm. The thing that was killing her the most though was being pressed against him each night. Their captor failed to provide a bed or even a blanket and Bucky being the gentleman he is, offered to share his warmth. Y/n knew she shouldn't accept the offer, she might have done something she couldn't take back. She froze her ass off for the first half of the first night while staring longingly at Bucky's back, he looked so warm and inviting. He woke up at the beginning of her chattering teeth.

 

"Y/n/n, get over. You're gonna freeze doll." He'd rolled over and opened his arms for her to lay with him.

 

"I'm ok-k-kay James. Just a little cold that's all." Her teeth chattered, proving her a liar.

 

Bucky sent her a dark glare that made her relent. She could imagine him looking at her like that in a different setting. It took every ounce of the little willpower she did have left not to whimper as his arm slid around her when she settled next to him and pulled her that much closer. She was gonna go fucking feral.

 

Needless to say, once they reached the tower and got through debriefing, y/n wanted to go to her room, take a hot shower, and have some quality time with her toys. The debriefing took hours, Steve wanted to know every detail of what went down before he finally dismissed them. Now was y/n's chance to escape before she was questioned anymore and she was going to take it. As she rocketed out of the meeting room y/n felt a cool hand grab at her wrist and turned to see Bucky shifting slightly. "We have paperwork to finish y/n/n." He said matter-of-factly.

 

"James, I'm tired, I stink, can't we just do it tomorrow?" She whined.

It was too late though, the super-soldier was already dragging her down the hallway to one of the many offices. "We should do it while the memories are still fresh." He stated firmly. His tone said not to question him so y/n didn't, she let him drag her down the hallway and into an office with papers stacked neatly on a desk with two seats. That's where they sat for the next several hours.

 

Y/n was getting more and more frustrated the longer she had to sit in that room. Due to her abilities, she also had enhanced sense, she was able to notice everything, and right now all she could focus on was Bucky. The faint smell of the cologne he had put on during the quinjet ride as well as gun powder and a smell that was distinctly Bucky was washing over her in waves. She could see the way the muscles on his flesh hand contracted as he wrote and could hear the soft whirl of the metallic one on his left. Y/n hear the rustle of his uniform-clad legs every time he shifted. She was going to die and it would be Bucky Barnes' fault. Y/n was aware that she was flushed and she was also aware that she was so wet that she could smell herself, but her senses were much better than his. After ages of y/n fidgeting around, he looked up.

 

"Y/n, are you okay?" He sounded concerned.

 

She was startled by his voice so it took her a minute to reply with a choked out, "Yeah, yeah I'm good."

 

Bucky raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly, licking his lips. Y/n shut her eyes tight and took a sharp inhale, "Really James, I'm fine."

Thankfully Bucky dropped it for the time being and they continued to work in silence. This went on for another hour and a half. She would shuffle her thighs against each other to get some friction and Bucky would glance at her and she would stop, flushing even deeper.

Ultimately, Bucky had enough. "Okay y/n/n, what the fuck is wrong?"

He was standing, looking down at her with those eyes. The very eyes she had dreams about looking up at her from in between her thighs.

 "Nothing James, just hot and tired." She waved him off looking back down at the paperwork in front of her.

 

She heard him take a step towards her, she heard him take a breath, and she heard his breath catch. She heard it all very clearly. Y/n shut her eyes hoping he would sit back down so they could just be down with this already, but he didn't. He took a deep breath through his nose and growled lowly, swaying on the spot he stood.

"Y/n/n." She wouldn't look at him.

 

"Y/n" He rarely used her first name. She still wouldn't look at him.

 

He was quiet for entirely too long, and when he spoke again he was far closer than she had anticipated, "Pretty girl."

 

Y/n whimpered before she could stop herself. That sounded so nice coming from his lips. Bucky wanted that sweet noise coming out of her mouth again, as many time as he could make it happen.

 

"Oh, babydoll if I had known," He was speaking in a low measured voice, " Is this what's been bothering you this whole time?"

 

Y/n was practically panting, Bucky had been getting closer to her while he was talking and now she could feel his breath fanning over where her catsuit opened. She stayed quiet, she wasn't sure if he was serious or not. Her lack an answer irritated Bucky, but he wouldn't touch her until he had her consent.

 

"Pretty girl if you wanted me to make you feel good all you had to do was ask me. I would love to get my hands on you. So go ahead babydoll, just say the word."

 

He waited, hovering just by her ear. "James." She just barely gasped out the word.

 

"I'm right here baby. Just say the word." He lowered his voice even more. "Just say the word, and I'll fucking ruin you."

 

"Yes." And he was on her.

 

He turned her chair around quicker than she could blink and his mouth was on her faster than she would take a breath. Y/n shoved on hand into his hair and one went to his back. Bucky's flesh hand went to the side of her throat and he paused slightly when she moaned. As he pulled back to look at her she pouted but he had something he wanted to test. He slipped his hand from the side of her neck to the front, grinning when her eyes fluttered and she craned to give him more access. "Oh, pretty girl do you like the way my hand feels wrapped around your throat?" She didn't answer, just hummed low in her throat. Having been given consent to touch her as he pleased Bucky let his irritation shine through. He applied just slightly more pressure.

"Pretty girl I asked you a question, but if you don't want to answer I guess I can go back the paperwork."

 Y/n's eyes fluttered open to reveal blown pupils. She all but moaned "Yes James, your hand feels good on my throat."

 

He growled and smirked darkly, "Okay baby tell you what, I want you to go to your room and wait for me. I'm gonna finish this paperwork. While you wait I want you to get yourself nice and ready for me, okay?" Y/n nodded and stood as he released her. He stared down at her for a moment before running his thumb across her bottom lip. She parted her lips and sucked it into her mouth nipping it slightly. He watched her for a moment before speaking again. "And don't you dare cum." Bucky felt her whine against his thumb before he released her. He watched her with a heated stare as she made her way across the room.

When she had her hand on the handle Bucky spoke again. "Oh, and pretty girl," she turned to acknowledge him, "Use the toy that you use when you think of me." Y/n flushed even more if that was possible. The toy he was referring to was her favourite one. She'd bought it directly after her first mission with Bucky after he'd kissed her with everything in him to make sure their cover wasn't blown. That kiss had left her on edge until the end of the mission when she could go to her room and handle herself. When all her other toys failed her, she figured it was time for a new one. While searching through her favourite store's online selection she came across something intriguing, Avengers-themed toys. Being an avenger herself, she was curious to what they would look like so of course y/n clicked on the folder. Some of them made her laugh. Vision's was a small bullet with a stone on the back of it that looked like the one in his head. Tony's was a vibrator that was the same colour as his suit and its power button glowed. The farther she got the more she noticed how accurately all the toys represent them all. Natasha's was a red cock ring with a small button that looked like a black widow that vibrated when it was pushed. Y/n liked hers so she ordered one of those as well. It was a nice sized red vibrator with a design that looked like dark smoke wrapping around it. The description said that it had four settings and the highest one makes anyone see stars. Bucky's made her mouth dry up. It was a vibrator and a g-spot stimulator wrapped up in one. The button to turn it on was a red star, the body was made out of a black and metallic pattern. The metallic looked strikingly similar to the metal on Bucky's arm. So she bought it and used it often, and know Bucky wanted her to use specifically that one.

After swaying in the elevator while it rose she quickly gathered herself enough to make it to and into her room without collapsing. Once inside she pulled out a small box from under her bed and opened it to reveal what she'd affectionately nicknamed winter. Before doing anything though, y/n knew she needed a shower. She stripped out of her catsuit and turned on the shower that heated to a preset temperature, thanks to Tony's constant instalment of new tech.  As y/n scrubbed herself clean her thoughts drifted Bucky, she was obviously attracted to him, but what if he didn't want more. She pushed these disconcerting thoughts aside and finished her shower, she needed relief. She quickly towelled herself off and headed back into her bedroom. As she settled into a comfortable position she grabbed winter and turned it on. Y/n started at her neck and worked her way down, she was painful turned on so it wouldn't take long for her to get herself ready. Once she reached her cunt she slowly ran the toy up and down to collect some of her wetness. The vibrations made her hum, it already felt so good and she'd barely started. Y/n brought the toy up to her clit and ran slow circles on the nub. Once she felt wet enough, y/n slowly worked the toy into herself, it felt good but she was sure Bucky would feel better. She started slow again, working herself up before getting progressively faster. Little whimpers and small moans were flowing from her now as she got closer to the edge.

 "James"  She could her how breathless she sounded but she didn't care. She'd been a live wire for three weeks every one of her nerves was on fire. As she felt herself on the very line on falling, y/n pulled the toy away out and away. She had her head thrown back so she didn't see Bucky leaning against a wall across from her. Y/n gave herself a minute to come down, but she was much more sensitive now. Her moans were falling much more freely now and it didn't take her long to get close again. Bucky noticed the closer she got the more she said his name. By the time she pulled the toy away from herself again y/n was practically chanting "James"

He watched calm down again before she moved the toy back to her clit. He smiled, y/m had listened to him. He silently observed her for another minute before stepping up to her bed and taking the toy from her hands. Y/n's eyes shot open and she looked up to she Bucky examining the vibrator. Bucky slowly smirked as he looked over its design.

" Pretty girl, is this themed after me?" His eyes were twinkling dangerously.

Y/n nodded, lust was so thick in her throat she was having trouble speaking.

Bucky looked like a cat who caught a canary while he lowered the toy to her clit. She withered on the bed as he applied pressure. "How long babydoll?" He quirked his brow.

"How long w-what, James?" she sounded breathless.

"How long have you wanted me to take that sweet little pussy and make it mine?" He growled as he slipped the toy inside of her, moving at an unrushed pace. Her brain was rapidly trying to keep up, between his motions and his words it was hard to place any exact time.

When she didn't answer he pushed the vibrator deeper, "Answer me, pretty girl."

She scrambled for purchase, "S-s-since our first mission together. When we had to save our cover by making out and that night you gave me some hickeys for good measure." Y/n words were jumbled and rushed.

Bucky smiled precariously and when he started talking y/n's eyes rolled back in her head. "Oh baby, I didn't give you those hickeys for good measure. I wanted to mark you up. You sounded so pretty while I did it too, trying to suppress those little sounds. God, I just wanted to lift your dress and have you sit on my cock while I did. Wanted to have you stuffed full of me as I marked you as mine." His Brooklyn accent was shining through. "Thought about it some many times baby, on so many missions, sparring too. That day when you wrapped your thighs around my head you smelled so good, wondered what you would do if I had just pulled you down on my face and devoured you through those tight fucking pants." His hand was moving the toy mercilessly now, and y/n was so close she could taste it. " All I wanted to do when you had to go on that date undercover was show him who you belong to. Wanted to fuck right on the table. Make you scream my name as you came. Sometimes when I got off I would think about fucking your face, I bet you would take me so well too. You'd look so pretty with my cock down your throat."

Y/n had been right his mouth was filthy in bed. With one last flick of his wrist, y/n came, hard. She was still shaking when he pulled the toy away and leaned down to kiss her. It didn't start sweet or innocent, as soon as Bucky's lips pressed against hers he took control, and she let him. He nips at her bottom lip then smoothed his tongue over it to ease the sting. He did this twice more before pulling back and laying on the bed beside her. Before she had the chance to question hin he spoke, "I want you to sit on my face and let me fuck you with my tongue until you cum."

Y/n didn't have to be told twice. Once she had both legs on either side of his head she tried to slowly lower herself but Bucky wasn't having it. He grabbed her thighs pulled her hard against his mouth. He shattered any expectations she had. He was relentless, his licks were even and broad as he worked her juices into his mouth. It seemed the more he tasted the rough he became, which was fine by Y/n, that's the way she liked it. She felt him growl against her when he finally pushed his tongue into her, truly tasting her. The sound reverberated through her and she couldn't the near scream that tumbled from her bruised lips. When she clenched around his tongue he knew she was close so he doubled his effort. Bucky sealed his entire mouth on y/n's cunt and sucked harshly. She came with a moan of his name.

He let her pull back and sit back on his chest as she calmed down. When she felt the material of his tactical shirt under her she frowned. "James."

He hummed and dragged his eyes from where she was still glistening to her eyes, "Yes, doll?"

"You are wearing far too many fucking clothes." Y/n stated as she rolled off of him.

"Well, I can certainly fix that." He rose from the bed and shucked off his clothes in a matter of seconds. Y/n's eyes were everywhere at once: his arms, his chest, his thighs that she'd like to ride into the sunset. When they landed on his large member resting on his stomach, looking an angry shade of red,  her mouth watered.

"Pretty girl, as much as I'd love to have those pretty lips wrapped around me I need to be inside that pretty pink pussy immediately."

"How do you want me, James?" She was asking what his preference was.

He chuckled darkly then growled "Hands and fucking knees babydoll."

She whimpered then snapped into action. Y/n flipped over and raised with her back to him. "See pretty girl, I knew you'd look good like this." He praised her as he climbed onto the bed behind her. He ran the tip of his cock through her folds, collecting her wetness.

"Please." It was short and desperate. Exactly what Bucky wanted.

 "Please what, pretty girl?" He was teasing and she knew it.

"Please James, fuck me." She whined.

Bucky deemed it acceptable and slowly slid in, setting a shallow pace. He was still teasing.

"Faster." She was trying to rock her hips back into him but he had a steady hold on her hips holding her still.

"beg for it." It was clear what he wanted. Bucky wanted her desperate for him and ONLY him, not that it was much work.

And y/n begged, "Please James, fuck me faster. Please please, please. I'll do anything. Just make me yours, please." It was starting to get incoherent. Bucky was satisfied so he picked up the pace, slowly working his way up to slam into her. Skin slapping, his grunts, and her moans were the only noises filling the room. bucky twisted a hand into y/n's hair and pulled her up to his chest. He started whispering absolute filth in her ear as he fucked her deeply.

"That's right baby moan for me. You like me fucking your cunt don't you babydoll? You like the way I feel taking what I want from you? You gonna let me fuck you like this from now on aren't you baby?" His had moved from her hair to her throat. "You're gonna let me fuck you like this cause you're mine now right pretty girl? This cunt is mine now, only mine no one else's."

She could only let out incoherent "Yesses" as she got closer and closer but Bucky knew she liked it, he could feel her clenching around him. His other hand slipped down to her clit as he kept talking.  "You gonna give me what I want pretty girl? Is my girl gonna cum all over my cock? I can feel ya squeezin me, baby. Go ahead baby, cum for me."

That was the final push that landed y/n right in the middle of the strongest orgasm she had ever had. When he felt her clamp down on him he followed suit, shouting her name ad he pushes in as far as he can go. After they ride out their aftershocks they collapse beside each other. Y/n closed her eyes and floated between conscientious and sleep until she felt Bucky leave the bed. She was sure he had left so she rolled over to sleep until she is startled by and cool hand and calm voice.

"Pretty girl, you have to roll over and open your legs so I can clean you up then we can sleep, okay baby?" She rolled just enough for Bucky to slip a warm washcloth in between her legs and stroke gently, cleaning her.  When he was down he threw the cloth into her hamper before slowly working her under the covers. After she was under them he slid in next her and pulled her to him.

"James?" she sounded sleepy.

"Yes, doll?"

"What does this make us?" She was timid now, holding her breath for his response.

"Well, I was hoping we could be a couple." He smiled against her hair.

Y/n lets out a relieved breath, "That sounds nice James."

"Shh, we'll talk in the morning, go to sleep pretty girl."  He was grinning now.

"I love you." It slipped so easily from her lips as she drifted to sleep. Bucky wasn't even sure she had meant to say but he said it back none the less and he meant it

[monster-bait]

I’m an exophilia writer like you, and I like writing intimacy in my work. But sometimes, I feel internally weird/embarrassed/ashamed about writing sex. If you’ve ever felt this way, how’d you get over it/how do you cope with that feeling? I just want to enjoy writing sexy stuff without feeling weird about it. Any tips would be appreciated. Love love love your blog.

Aaaa, Hello, fellow writer! Thank you so much for the kind words! 

Okay, so first off...I have been writing for a very long time. Like anything, writing a sex scene is something you have to learn, a skill to develop, and no skill develops overnight. So, if you’re relatively new to writing sex scenes (relativity is relative) then cut yourself some slack. I look back on some of my early smutty scenes and nearly die of cringe. Hell, I look back on smut scenes I wrote last year and want to die of cringe. Our skills are ever-evolving, and the more you do it, the easier it gets. 

I’m going to break this answer into two parts: smut-specific and writing intimate scenes in general. Also: what is sexy is subjective. I was asked a very similar question about a year or two ago by a young writer who didn’t have much experience writing intimate scenes, but had one planned for her story. Another writer jumped into the conversation, at which point I bowed out, because she and I had polar-opposite styles and were giving conflicting advice. It played out like this: 

Asker: I’m brand new at smut and don’t know where to start, teehee! 

Me: be sure to include sensory details and show what you’re comfortable showing! 

Other writer: be sure to vividly describe character A’s testicles slapping character B in the face! 

😐 

Writers giving advice: for the love of Mab, please consider your audience.

Smutty smutness: No, I don’t get embarrassed when I’m writing these scenes. No, I don’t get turned on when I’m writing them, I don’t feel the need to go to church and confess my smutty sins, I don’t need to book quality one-on-one time with myself and a vibrating partner immediately after finishing said scene. Writing, for me, is technical. Writing sex is old hat. Again, I’ve been doing this for a long time. The more you work at it, the easier it gets/those feelings will fade. If you put more of the focus on the craft of writing itself, the subject matter becomes negligible.

But! Within saying that, I think there are some things you can do:

Use language with which you’re comfortable 

I will tell you guys right now, there are certain words you will never find in my writing. I don’t find them sexy, and if I don’t find them sexy, I’m not going to use them. I don’t care what other writers do, I don’t care if readers think that’s limiting. Dick sounds like something a 14 year old boy would say. You know what’s not sexy? 14 year old boys. Pussy to my ears is a word for male gaze-driven porn, and has no place in my writing. Cunt has its place when applied well, but if its the only word you know how to use, I’m probably going to stop reading. If you’re describing your female character’s genitalia as a greedy, dripping gash, I can promise you I’m going to stop reading. And that’s fine, because it wasn’t written for me. Don’t use language you’re uncomfortable using. I know that seems small, but it can make a huge difference, and adopting a mindset of staying within the parameters of your comfort and control might lessen the subconscious need to “sound” smutty, if you know what I mean. There is no right way to write, and that includes sex scenes.

By that same token:

Show as much as you’re comfortable showing 

There’s nothing wrong with a fade to black. There’s nothing wrong with soft-focus sex. There’s nothing wrong with graphic details either, and you’ve got to figure which of the three (or which combination) works best for you. Think about the difference in the M and E rating on Ao3 for a guide, if that helps. (someone in the audience, find that great post about mailing a letter, pls!) Decide the tone of your scene: Do you want to focus on sensuality or the details of the actions? This is the difference between slowly peeling that quivering-with-anticipation little stamp out of her papery underthings and affixing her gently to the front of the envelope’s broad front; and licking that stamp for all she’s worth, your tongue moving in a frenzy against her stickiness and you can’t tell where your mouth ends and her sticky back begins, the drool from your oral onslaught activating her adhesiveness until she’s stiffened against the envelope, flat on her back and spent, the act complete.

(seriously, someone find that post, it does a much better job than I just did!)

Above all, stay true to your characters, and remember that your writing skills don’t get to take a smoke break just because you’re writing a sex scene...which leads to my secondary set of advice:

(I by no means consider myself an expert in this arena, but here are some things I like to focus on when writing an intimate scene)

Sensory details: sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell 

A good sex scene needs to be more than “insert tab A into slot B”. Give us a sense of the space, put us into our character’s head. The sensory details you add can paint a very specific picture for your reader, so that one sex scene doesn’t blend into the next. In Girl’s Weekend, I tried to give the sex scenes between Tate & Silva a very distinct feel through the sensory details Silva experiences: she feels small beneath the high ceilings, the bedding in his apartment is always plush beneath her, the lighting is always dim, his hair is silky in her hands, his lips are always sweet. And you know, they’re fucking. But that’s not the only detail I’m focusing on, because that’s not giving insight into her state of mind, and also: it’s boring. Set a scene, tell us where your characters are, what they’re experiencing, if that vase of roses can be smelled from where they are, how the moon cuts through the window to bathe the bed in shadows.

State of mind

You don’t need to exclusively write about genitals mashing together. There was an essay I read million years ago (about the writer’s relationship with her boyfriend and his watersports kink, of all things) that was ostensibly about sex, but the focus was on her state of mind for nearly the entire piece. There’s a scene towards the end when she’s describing the last time they had sex, objectively the best, most satisfying sex they’d ever had, descriptive and hot, the female MC is riding her boyfriend, she’s in absolute ecstasy...but she already feels emotionally disengaged from him and the relationship, and the line I still remember almost two decades I after I read the essay for the first time is “And as I’m loving you, I’m leaving you.” You can still pack an emotional wallop in the midst of a sex scene without needing to stop the action and make your characters have a Serious Conversation™. Show us into their heads! Which leads me to...

Don’t forget about character voice! 

If you guys are ever worried that I’ve been body-snatched, just know that if I ever respond to one of these asks and don’t mention character voice, you know it’s not me. Just because you’re describing the hot and heavy stuff doesn’t mean you shut the proverbial bedroom door on your character’s unique voices and personalities. If your character would never engage in dirty talk, don’t force it on them. Tate and Silva have the capacity to be f i l t h y with each other; Khash does to a point, but Lurielle would die laughing of embarrassment. Know your characters! 

If you keep the focus on the characters, their voices and actions and thoughts, the fact that someone’s getting their face ridden is going to be a heck of a lot less embarrassing, because you’ve to focus on the writing. 

I hope that helps, Anony! 

Team, going forward all of your anonymous writing advice asks are going to be fair game to be included in the “For Writers” sections of my (still under construction) website which you should absolutely go visit! ...and sign up for email updates on my publication news, and click some of the other social social media bubbles while you’re there!

[bubblyani]

Bail Out: 05

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 05: “No Fun”

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault.  However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne,  surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your  choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 8500+

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Swearing and Slight Violence 

Author’s Note: So glad I could finish this on time. Now I’m impatiently working on the next part. When you read it, you will know why. Thanks again for the wonderful response. Enjoy!

Chapter LIST

The rapid sound of gunfire, infused with blood curdling screams, certainly forced your heart to beat right out of your chest. The beating, increased without any prior announcement shocked you, as if the live, blood pumping organ might literally fall out of your flesh vessel. The scene you witnessed, was never expected but only imagined in modes of fiction. Be it novels or films. However, when you truly got to taste it in the rusty reality, only then did you realize the gravity of its horror. And only then at that fateful moment, did you genuinely fear for your precious life.

Just when it seemed trouble had finally set you free.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(A Few Days Earlier)

Allison Hughs was your quintessential fun-loving, living in the moment party girl with complete control over the pace of her existence. Apart from all that, she was also a loyal friend, blindly following you to the ends of the earth in ranting.

“SHE DID WHAT?”

Her inquiry was loud and dramatic, to which you nodded. “Yep” you replied, “She straight up went there…”

Safe to say, the ‘She’ that was being mentioned here was none other than Clara Bennett, the Consultant who slithered her way into Wayne Enterprises, solely to make exaggerated inspections on HR Operations, and to make your cooperate life a living hell, drenched with self-doubt and insecurity. It certainly traveled up a notch when she proactively invited you to take part in a Basic HR Crash Course, that was mainly designed to New Recruits. Simply because she assumed that you would find the Course ‘helpful’ to your own line of work. The fact she indirectly implied a trace of incompetence in you caused so much embarrassment.

“The hell is that bitch’s problem though?”

Allison kept inquiring, as she wiped off the milk from her lips, “Seriously…” she muttered, standing by the opened refrigerator in her pajamas.

“Yeah” you continued to nod, as you stuffed a spoonful of cereal into your mouth, “..and Lillian…being my senior since day 1, didn’t even treat me this way” you added, with a full mouth.

Already dressed for work, little did you expect to see Allison awake and engaged while you had your breakfast, “I look like a fucking joke…”you muttered, after finally gulping the food down.

“Hey!”

Allison cried, pointing her index finger at you, “Don’t you dare give up” she said with seriousness, standing before you, “You need to stand your ground and carry on with dignity…” she continued, her tone quite similar to a heroic speech, “Make Lillian proud she left you in charge…” she added, putting both hands on the table. Leaning forward, she took a closer look, “This will be good for you…” finally as her voice grew soft, she flashed a soft smile. You could not help but look at her affectionately, as you exhaled deeply.

“Talking to you makes me feel so much better…” you admitted. Pleased, Allison stood up straight.

“That’s why I’m your hype man, Sweetie!” she said, turning towards the window, “Watch out Gotham! The Bruiser is here to SLAY-”

“HEYYY!!-” your shushes exited along with your embarrassment. Your friend covered her mouth quickly.

“Sorry, Sweetie….” Allison whispered, taking the hands away, “But it just sounds so badass…” as her tone grew normal once more. You shot her a deranged look.

“Do I look like someone who deserves the name?” you inquired. “Well…” she said, folding her arms, “…the fact you punched that guy is a good enough reason…”

Shaking one’s head with a chuckle, you watched her head to the bedroom with a maniacal laughter. The sudden vibration of the table forced you to look down at your phone. The chuckling stopped, permitting your pulse to quicken with liberty. Rubbing your neck nervously, you proceeded to read the text from the only sender who was capable to send you through an emotional wild ride: Bruce Wayne.

Sorry, long night. Good Morning!

Pausing for a few seconds, you exhaled loudly as began to type:

No worries. Hope your day goes well, Mr. Wayne.

Being an appropriate response, you sent without hesitation. Long night?, could it possibly truly mean a hectic night of crime fighting and city saving in disguise? A strong urge suddenly arose to pull up the search browser on your phone, and type in the words: Batman. And what appeared first in the results certainly made your eyebrows rise with curiousity.

“Ali….” You yelled loud enough for her to hear, “You’ve heard of a website called… ‘Where’s the Bat’?

“EH?”

Her response was equally loud and echoing, “Oh yeah…” she added, whilst you opened the web page, “…Matty was talking about it sometime back…” she continued, “Some nerdy site about The Batman…”

“Damn!”

The word abruptly left your lips as your eyes widened. For you were treated to such a sight, “Ali…get this…” you said, proceeding to read the description of the page, “Welcome to ‘Where’s the Bat?’ Your Online Resource for all things Batman: Gotham’s Caped Crusader…” you squealed excitedly,  “Ha! It’s a freakin’ fan site! Oh! Oh!” you exclaimed as you continued to read out loud:

“… reliable sources from our very own admins and enthusiasts all over Gotham City…” with a whistle, you nodded, “These folks are not kidding around, huh?” you muttered, letting your finger slowly scroll down, “And they have posts on almost every appearance he made in the city…” you said out loud, yet it seemed that Allison was never interested. 

The Website backdrop was in black, but encompassing a very beautiful design concept. The immaculate detail was beyond believable. Detailed posts on possible weapons owned, vehicles, fighting styles and costume, Photos ranging from Low Quality to High, even blurry videos by camera phones, it was certainly a network of information. Your eyes widened when you saw the recent post title: 

Batman and The Bruiser?

“What the-?” Muttering to yourself, you clicked on the article.

“…also known as The Bruiser (Click Here for the Viral Clip) was spotted nearby when a group of muggers had reportedly attacked her. According to the anonymous source, Batman had arrived right on time. A clip of the incident may not be available, yet we did manage to find a small clip as he escaped the scene. And according to Gotham PD, the Caped Crusader had appeared once again to The Bruiser’s aid the night after. As much as we feel sorry for the bad luck The Bruiser attracts, we could only be nothing but envious of her opportunity to meet the Dark Knight twice. And some of us could not help but wonder: Could romance possibly be in bloom between the two?”

“What?” Nervous chuckles were all you let out as you whispered, “Hah! In your dreams, fanboys…” you uttered, closing the browser, “Batman would never go for a woman like me” you said, almost dropping the phone by its sudden vibration. For a reply was received.

You too. Stay out of trouble :)

“And you stay out of my head” you said to yourself, putting the phone back on the table. Covering your face, you could only groan with frustration. Ever since that evening at the hospital a mere week before, casual texts from Bruce Wayne began to appear on your phone, starting off on the very next day:

Couldn’t thank you for running that errand for Fox.

The errand, meaning the black box that Mr.Fox entrusted you with. A small yet long box which was quite light. The very box that granted you access to his penthouse and to the friendship with Alfred Pennyworth.

Just doing my job, Mr.Wayne.

You remember replying that day at office. It was not exactly necessary for him to thank you this way, yet his action was commendable. He did not hesitate to quickly respond:

Much appreciated.

Just when you thought it was the end, he greeted once again two days later. During an important meeting, for example:

Hi there! Is Ms.Foster enjoying the gift?

Once the meeting wrapped up, you made sure to respond :

Very much, from what I know. You’re making motherhood very easy for her.

You would be lying if you did not look forward to write him back. The manner your fingers tingled was quite evident. 

That’s a relief.

Clearly with his corresponding reply, he displayed quite an interest in conversing with you, by finding meager excuses to obtain your response. Yet, a part of you wondered what his actual intentions were. Be professional, a phrase that lingered in your head always. A warning, more like. As much as the desire to carry on the message thread was strong within, you did not reply back.

Two days passed, and surprisingly you were dying with curiousity. Could it be that his intention to communicate had finally gone? Or could it be that you were finally missing him? Forming a clever excuse to obtain his signature, you liaised with Jessica, only to find out Bruce Wayne was currently on a business trip in Singapore.

Intoxicated with impulsiveness, your thumbs grew stubborn as they formed a message on your phone:

Heard you’re in Singapore. How is it?

“Shit! Roaming Charges!”

You sighed, your palm slapped over your forehead. Putting the phone away to enjoy the view of the bus ride, you sincerely hoped he would never notice. But to your surprise, the phone vibrated instantly:

Loving the Food here.

Despite roaming charges, he was kind enough to reply. And that touched you very deeply. Then again, money was never an issue for a man of his stature. him. However, you were not Bruce Wayne. Still, a few extra dollars seemed nothing compared to the inner secretive joy you indulged in as you replied: 

Not surprised. The Bakkwa over there is to die for.

He did not reply. He did not do so for a day and two. You grew worried, if he was really knee deep in business, or literally knee deep in trouble. But the next morning, you were finally assured of his safe arrival back to Gotham, especially when you found a gift at the door. A Gift which came in the form of a beautiful red box full of Bakkwa, the Chinese sweet dried meat, one of your favorite treats. You did not miss the handwritten note inside:

You’re right. It IS to die for. - B.Wayne

Chuckling with happiness, you were only compelled to quickly text him a grateful reply:

The Bakkawa enthusiast sends her Thanks.

To which you finally received a reply this morning as you indulged on your cereal:

Sorry, long night. Good Morning!

Groaning in frustration seemed rightfully reasonable for you. Stressing out seemed rightfully reasonable as well. Who would not, when there was a storm that brewed inside of you. A storm of emotions that contained the sticky quality. The adhesiveness that was stubborn to the core. For if you look at the situation in it’s entirety, this was not your average instance of a man and woman forming a textual habit in order to know one another. You were an acting Head, informally socializing with the owner of Wayne Enterprises. Being in HR, you could already feel the weight of unprofessionalism heat on you. That guilt which already seemed to haunt you subtly. Thus, not responding further seemed logical, yet it certainly was a hard pill for you to swallow. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“You sure you don’t want anything? Coffee or Tea?”

You asked Officer John Blake, ushering him to his seat as you sat down. He shook his head.

“I’m good, Ma’am” he said with a smile. Smiling back, you were drenched with guilt. A week earlier, the police officer had requested to meet, yet with your unexpected work load, you reluctantly had to send him back the previous time. Forcing him to wait so long for a week was something you knew you would go to hell for. But John Blake did not judge, or as it seemed from his expression.

“Didn’t know you were running a tight ship here .” He said, looking back to witness the bustle in the main hall outside.

“Well, the Head’s on Maternity leave so…I’m stuck here, hehe…” You answered nervously, “Once again I’m so sorry Officer. You said it was something urgent?”

“It’s about the two attacks…” Blake said, capturing your attention. “Now I’m sure you’re probably wondering if those are simply coincidental or something more…”

“I honestly have been afraid to go down that rabbit hole, but yes I did wonder…” you replied. Looking sideways, he finally turned your way as his lowered his voice:

“I have reason to believe Erik Henderson may be connected to this…”

The image of the mocking man, and his bloody nose flashed before your very eyes. Given his anger, it could be a high possibility. Yet, you were in disbelief.

“What gave you the idea?” You inquired with curiousity. Blake kept his police his hat on his lap securely:

“The men who attacked you, the ones we arrested…” He said, to which you nodded in acknowledgment, “They were bailed out the very next day by-”

“-Henderson’s Legal Team?” You asked blankly, for you were still in disbelief. Blake nodded.

“I may be wrong” he said, “Bailing the people who attacked you, it could also just be a power move, maybe to scare you off…” he added, leaning forward, “So far we cannot be sure…” He continued, “But I think it’s best for you to keep an eye out-”

Your eyes suddenly darted towards the phone screen. For an email just appeared in your personal inbox with a title:

“Job Offer for General Manager”

Eyes widening, you were certainly not expecting that. Quiet for a few minutes, you found yourself staring at your own table, for you were confused beyond all measure with everything you just heard and saw.

“I’m sorry...” Blake began, shaking you from your thoughts, “ if I’m causing you any discomfort-”

“No…it’s alright” flipping the phone downward, you shook your head with a soft smile, “I just…all this was just so unexpected. Didn’t think there would be any possibility for anything like this, that’s all” you said, smiling even more, “I appreciate the information, Officer”

Truthfully, you were nothing but grateful to the man. Perhaps it was because he was the arresting officer who was in charge of that fateful night. Nevertheless, he was nothing but kind to you. Blake grinned widely.

“The Precinct still thanks The Bruiser for Common’s Coffee” He said, to which you were genuinely surprised.

“Oh! I’m glad-”

“BOSS!”

Greg’s cries forced both of you to look to the door. Distress never looked good on Greg. Giving a heavy sigh, he began:

“ I’m sorry to keep doing this but…” he said, “Clara’s gone off the rails!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As he made his way down the Lobby through the crowds, John Blake made his careful observations, fascinated by all that he glanced upon in the Wayne Tower. “Officer Blake!” Stopping in his tracks, John turned upon hearing a familiar voice. He smiled.

“Mr.Wayne…” He addressed,  “Didn’t expect to see you here” Smartly dressed in a pinstriped three piece suit, Bruce Wayne stood before the much younger man with a reciprocative smile.

“Well,” he began “You can’t just play hard….so…” Nodding in acknowledgment, Blake held on to his hat. With the silence between them growing longer, John began to speak:

“I’m actually just coming down after meeting one of your Senior Managers” He said, which caught Wayne’s attention.

“Who is…?”

When Blake provided him with the name, Bruce nodded nonchalantly. “Is this anything to do with the Henderson case?” He asked, suddenly growing serious. Surprised by his knowledge, the officer nodded.

“Yes….” Blake added. But then again, there was nothing to be surprised of. Given Wayne was in the hotel when it all happened. 

“How did she take it?” “Surprisingly pretty well” Blake said, as he began to walk alongside Wayne ,“But she seems to have her hands full today, doesn’t look too good” he sighed, involuntarily empathizing with her. And given Wayne’s subtle yet concerned expression, Blake realized he was not alone there. Finally reaching the exit, the officer was compelled to do the unexpected:

“Since you were a witness to the incident,..” he began, making Wayne look at him, “ I think it’s probably best that you also know…”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You have always put your trust in Lillian Foster. That trust had lasted throughout your time in Wayne Enterprises without forsaking you for a mere second. Thus, you were certain she did the needful in approving the Revised Policies and Regulations before taking her leave. For you had personally witnessed it.

However, when a company email from Clara Bennett to Lucius Fox claimed HR was seemingly incapable of carrying out their operations under the current leadership, you were not surprised to find your anger making an appearance.

And the embarrassment you had to face when she even went so far as to copy you and your managers in to that said email. Professional was nowhere near this behavior. For this was simply child’s play. The panic all your department staff went through was understandable. Especially when they worked only to their very best.

“You wanted to me see me?”

Clara asked, as she entered your office. Raising your head up, you threw a cold expression her way: “Close the door please” Your tone was stern. Looking around, Clara furrowed her eyebrows. “But aren’t you supposed to-” “I’ll take my chances, Ms. Bennett” You interrupted her, lips forming a tight smile. With an uncertain nod, she closed the door shut, before taking a few steps towards you. Slowly getting up from your desk, you quickly walked over to her. It was now or never. “We saw that little email that you sent to Mr. Fox.” You stated, to which she did not flinch. Scoffing, your hands rested on your hips, “I know how things work: When people mess up, even after many warnings, they get complained about to the superiors…” you said in a matter-of-fact tone, “But…” you paused, as you were on a dire attempt not to explode, “how can you expect us...” Surprisingly you felt emotion trickling in, “...to take this lying down when you DIDN'T PERFORM EITHER OF THOSE ACTIONS?” With your voice surprisingly getting louder than expected, Clara found herself folding her arms in defense: “Look, I get it...” She said, her smile suddenly faded,  “You don’t like me snooping around” You scoffed in disbelief, “Ms.Bennett, this is not you snooping around. This is you desperately finding excuses to make US LOOK BAD” you stated loudly, “I mean…What exactly on the policies and regulations are you complaining about?” You inquired. And to your surprise, Clara grew quiet before she finally answered:

“I just...” she paused, as if she was seeking excuses,  “...don’t understand why the Policies couldn’t be circulated if they were revised” Your jaw dropped in disbelief, “What are you talking about??They were already revised and circulated” you answered with certainty, appalled by the childish games that were being played. “Well…” pausing again, “I don’t see them in the Public Folder”she said stubbornly, to which you sighed, rubbing your temples, “ And according to my sources, It’s Paula Yang’s  responsibility, am I right?” Though authority was rife in her tone, you could sense the menace that lingered invisibly.

“Ms. Bennett...” you gritted through your teeth, taking your hand away, “Paula is on bed rest after breaking HER LEG...from a biking accident last weekend” you burst out, “...if you looked up on our employees with the SAME ENTHUSIASM you did on our work, then you would probably know that” you spat, fuming with anger,  “But If you expect me to deprive her of her paid leave, JUST SO she could just limp over here to UPLOAD SOME POLICIES to a server? then you’re sorely mistaken! ” You cried out, panting.

Subtly shocked at your response, Clara stood silently. Given her reaction, it was quite evident something disastrous would soon follow. Your threw your hands up in defense.

“Fine” you said, “If you prefer to pin this error on me, please do. But… not the department” you said, as your voice grew soft , “...please” you breathed. Closing her eyes for a few seconds, Clara opened them once again, shooting you a stern glance.

“Do you know…what I was told about you before I came here?” She posed a rhetorical question, to which you rightfully did not answer to, “An unprofessional thug, with anger issues.” She said.

In all your years of working at Wayne Enterprises, this was the far from what you had ever heard from anyone. The silence ruled over the atmosphere for a few more seconds.

“So I came in with a mission...” Clara went on, “...to tame you. Or to rile you up enough to expose who you really were” she said harshly. Folding your own arms in defense, you took a deep breath:

“Well,” you began, “I believe I was angry For the right reasons. So no regrets here” you answered with confidence. Whatever consequence that may follow, you were not aware of, for your justified rage may possibly have outdone yourself this time. You only wished Lillian would forgive you.

“But…” Clara paused, “...from the way you stood up for your employees and your department…,” she said, as her expression softened, “ I guess… I was badly misinformed.” Confusion took over you for the next few seconds, as she looked straight into your eyes before taking in a deep breath:

“I’m sorry!” Your eyes widened, “P-Pardon?” Sighing, Clara reluctantly rubbed the sides of her thighs: “I’m sorry…If I insulted you in any way” she said shyly in a low tone, “Honestly speaking, no matter how much I tried to deny it, everything seems to be running smoothly” She added. 

Relief quickly washed over you. Leaving you questioning reality all the sudden. “ I would gladly leave you all alone but..,” Clara smiled, “I’ve been contracted here for a while. So, I hope we can all cooperate together till I leave. Maybe a fresh start?”

Extending her hand to you, she presented a genuine smile. A smile possibly carrying hope to gain your trust. Sincerely impressed by her bravery, you smiled back: “Sure, Apology accepted” You said, shaking her hand, “I really appreciate it, Ms.Bennett”

“Clara, Please.” She insisted, “Ms.Bennett just pisses me off even more”

Chuckling together, you nodded, “Okay, Gotcha”

The phone rang loud to your surprise. Giving her a friendly wave, you quickly moved to your desk in a cheerful manner, growing even more cheerful upon seeing the extension on the phone screen.

“Mr. Fox!” You answered, as you sat down, “How can I help you?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Since the fateful day she first laid eyes on him in his glorious return to Wayne Enterprises until now, Jessica would certainly never not blush whenever Bruce Wayne politely greeted her. Upon seeing her red face, he stepped into Lucius Fox’s office, walking over to find the CEO on the phone wearing a smile on his face.

“Don’t worry about it.” Fox said over the phone, “So you’ll come? Perfect…” He smiled, nodding at Wayne as he finally appeared in his eye line, “Hope to see you then” He added, hanging up the phone.

“I have to admit…” Fox began, ushering Bruce to sit, “… seeing you here every day at Wayne Tower is a happy surprise” He said. Bruce smiled.

“Everything alright?” He asked the CEO, “The Audits aren’t happening till another month or so..”

“No…” Fox shook his head, surprisingly impressed, “ I was actually wondering if you would…like to join me in the Company Dinner, this Thursday night. It’s a little gathering I normally do with the Heads of Departments...” he continued, glancing upon Wayne’s confused expression, “...to form a closer bond and… give them morale” He said, tilting his head. As much as the sentiment was kind, Wayne sighed with exhaustion.

“Mr.Fox, you know very well how I rather be stuck in the basement than go to that…” he said, slowly getting up, “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass”. Offering a polite smile, he turned around to make his leave. When opportunities to make a choice were given, he would certainly rather choose to not wear that mask in public. It tired him.

“She’s coming too”

Bruce froze, the moment Fox’s words reached his ears. Turning to him, he raised his eyebrows.

“She?” He began, “You mean…she?” He asked, highly emphasizing on the said pronoun, for both of them knew the person being discussed.

“Yes” Fox said, “Just got off the phone with her as you came in” he added, “I just thought you would like to know” with nonchalance, he casually put on his glasses.

Silently nodding, Bruce turned back to resume walking. Only except he halted once again, just to spin back around smoothly.

“Thursday…what time?” He inquired with genuine curiousity.

Being a man of his age, Lucius Fox could not help but smile at his response.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Being the workaholic, Lunch Breaks was nothing short of special for you. The moment the last bite of your delicious meal reached your lips, it was off to work once again, giving you ample time to finish your tasks. But this Wednesday, you cast that usual habit away, taking the luxury you rarely took during this entire decade.

Just to decide on a dress.

With your lunch on the desk and Allison on speakerphone, your eyes moved back and forth from two beautiful dresses on the website. With Mr. Fox casually inviting you to the Company Dinner, all you longed to provide was a good impression. Most women in your position would feel greatly pressured and stick to a salad just to fit into the dress. However, you were far too greedy to ignore the great Spaghetti Bolognese that was on the table before you.

“Sweetie, You know I love you, So why won’t you fucking listen to me?”

Allison’s echoed out loud, as you stared at the screen with concern. “Cause it’s a crazy idea, that’s why ” you said, stuffing pasta into your mouth, “Better go with the black one…” you said with a full mouth, pointing at the long sleeved black dress, “It’s tame, and I can just blend in with crowd” squinting, you attempted at imagining yourself in the outfit.

“Boo! BORING”

Allison’s response was quite obvious.

“Hey!” Clara’s whisper reached your ears, urging you to find her standing by the door with a smile. Ever since the intervention, the atmosphere underwent a surprising change, and all was well with the both of you. It was quite unbelievable how cooperative she had become. “I’m sorry but...could I borrow a twenty?” She asked politely in a whisper, all in order not to intrude your call. “Sure…” You whispered back, reaching into your bag to grab your purse, “Hah! Lucky you, that’s all I have” You grinned, fishing out the only dollar note as she headed over to take it from your hand.

“Hey!  Hey! Sweetie, Did I lose you?”

Allison’s voice brought you back to the phone call. “No! No! You didn’t…Sorry! Argh!” Groaning in frustration, you looked back at the computer screen, “I don’t know what to do, Ali…” You muttered.

“What is it?” With her still standing there, Clara finally asked out loud. She genuinely looked concerned. Embarrassed, you pointed at the screen.

“No it’s just…” you paused, “I have to go to this Cooperate Dinner thingy tomorrow, and I don’t know what to get…” you added, “…the Black or the White”.

Silent for a few seconds, you stared at Clara as she rubbed her chin with seriousness, while making a careful observation at the screen. Finally, her fingers snapped loudly.

“The White One…” Confidence oozed out of her voice as she replied. Looking back at the dress, you took a deep breath. V neck on the front along with a low cut in the back, the pure white silk evening gown certainly possessed the potential to be a show stopper.

“I mean…Why be afraid to stand out?”

Clara’s words, they rang in your ears so loudly. Pointing at the dress, she continued: 

“Wear this, and No one will be able to take their eyes off you” The manner in which she uttered, you were suddenly filled with enough power to head out to the battlefield. Her words, they were simply invisible embellishments to the dress, making it the armor and the secret weapon. It simply became powerful. And finally, you were convinced on which dress to finally purchase. Lips forming into a warm smile, you thanked her inaudibly.

“YAY!” Allison cried out on the line, “Whoever just said that, I agree with you” Chucking, Clara cleared her throat and looked at your mobile phone.

“Hey there…It’s Clara by the way…” she said to Allison. You suppressed a huge grin as you imagined Allison’s surprise upon hearing that.

“Oh…YOU’RE Clara?…” she said, pausing, “Well I like how you think, Clara” she said happily afterwards. Relieved by the sight of both your best friend and your new friend being acquainted, your eyes moved back to the beautiful dress. 

“Wear this, and No one will be able to take their eyes off you”

Clara may be right. But you were a simple woman, and your wishes were just as simple. Little did anyone know how your heart simply longed for just one person to indulge your presence for the entire evening. But the possibility of that, was just your wishful thinking. You could only hope for the evening be as successful as imagined. As long as it had the perfect touch of jazz piano playing in the background.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

With notes played with the fluidity of a free flowing stream, the jazz piano music was certainly better tonight than it was that Friday evening weeks ago. With tonight, you only hoped to replace the horrid memory of violence that linked the genre of music with an evening more refined. For tonight, you were no violator, nor a drunkard. You were merely a lady in a beautiful, silk dress.

Walking through the Lobby in your silver open toe heels, you came into the realization of how the dress simply became you. Contrary to your fears, it embraced your curves effortlessly, while the material was kind to you, caressing and cooling your skin.The dress itself contained a sense of assurance you would most likely receive from a trusted friend, some good Samaritan, kindly whispering positive affirmations. Fashioning the outfit with your Mikimoto pearls, you felt you were prepared enough.

You were punctual, fortunately. Lillian would have been proud. When you arrived at the reserved table, the other Heads were just about to take their seats. Cold, curt nods were passed on to you the moment they caught sight of you. Lucius Fox, however was humble enough to smile widely upon seeing you.

“I appreciate you coming in tonight…” He stated, as he politely ushered you to your seat, which granted you access between him and Head of Legal, Ted’s Boss, “This is usually Lillian’s gig” he said.

“Yes I heard,” you agreed while sitting down together, “And she does it flawlessly”

“I think you’ll be able to hold off your own” Fox assured, quite impressed by your appearance tonight. You smiled.

“Thank you, Mr. Fox” you nodded, looking at him, until he suddenly rose from his own chair. 

“Ah! The man of the hour”

He said as  he looked ahead, “…so glad you could come, Mr.Wayne” 

The mere mention of that man’s name made you turn forward in a flash. Bruce Wayne was simply Suave incarnate. He certainly brought forth great depth to his presence everywhere he set foot on. You swore the airways inside began to dry out as your breath was taken away in secret. However, that breath was quickly stomped and discarded recklessly when you realized he was no alone. With a beautiful woman on his arm, he arrived at the table.

When that strong, sour feeling came over you, you were mature enough to admit it was simple jealousy. Yet then again, the playboy lifestyle certainly was demanding. The flashing smile Bruce wore slightly disappeared , when his eyes met yours from the corner of the table. With your sour jealousy stewing you, it was a sheer relief that he took his seat on the other far corner.

“Really Mr .Wayne, This is such a pleasant surprise” Mr. Kline, Head of Accounting mentioned with joy.

“Well, Mr. Fox is getting better with power of persuasion, I suppose ” Wayne said, looking at Lucius, “So...” rubbing his hands together, he smiled, “What are we all having? My treat...” 

To everyone’s delight, the night certainly started off on a positive note. According to the trusted word of Lucius Fox, Sushi was the prime choice of food on every single dinner . It was the shared interest with all the Heads by coincidence. Thus, becoming a tradition.

Fortunately for you, you knew your way with Japanese cuisine enough to save your face. Wine and Sake were in abundance in the table, leaving most of the Heads and Wayne’s date quite excited with intoxication. It was certainly a surprise for you, to see the Heads break out into wide smiles and childish attitudes once the alcohol entered their systems. They did not speak much with you, which you were fine with. You were the new one there , after all. But with Fox next to you, you felt a fatherly figure watched over you. You listened to him with earnest, which was not so difficult with his charismatic voice.

You also longed for a distraction. A strong distraction from Bruce Wayne’s eyes secretly claiming ownership over you the entire time. Could he be watching Fox? Or you? You honestly did not know. As much as your inner heart jumped for Joy by the thought of him watching you, confusion ruled supreme.

The turn of the conversation topic from Work to Sailing suddenly tempted the Heads call Mr Fox over to the other side, forcing him and Bruce to change seats instead. His date did not even notice, as she was busy engrossed in her phone. Though you were at your element, calmly eating your maki rolls in silence, your heart beat increased in an instant when his presence nearby was confirmed. His aura gently murmured a greeting of affection, urging you to look up from your plate. Covering your mouth, you politely swallowed the food. With the others engaged in their own little world, it seemed that you and Bruce were suddenly left to yourselves.

“Thank you again for the Bakkwa”

You began, clearing your throat “…it was heavenly” you said, smiling whilst flashing your full red lips. Smiling back warmly, he leaned forward to the table.

“I don’t wanna brag but...” he paused, “I found that store all by myself” He said softly, as it was a dramatic secret. Eyes widened, you played along: “Oh! I find that hard to believe” You said, chuckling.

“Ask me the address, I dare you” He said blankly, making you chuckle harder. Nodding, you generously accepted his kindness. Be it text or face to face, talking to Bruce Wayne symbolized pure joy to you.

“Well, well, well…”

An eerie voice, a voice that haunted your intoxicated memories, and a voice that caused the hairs of the back of your neck to stand. It was a voice you knew well. So bloody well.

“Isn’t this a surprise?”

The entire table looked over to find Erik Henderson. With a gracefully beautiful and age appropriate woman standing beside him, Henderson was as smug as he could be. “Mr. Henderson...” Fox said. Henderson looked right at him. “Lucius...” He uttered, without casting a single glance at Bruce Wayne. The sight of him brought a sense of fear to you. According to Officer Blake, he could very much be responsible for all the attacks you were victim to during the past few weeks. The possibility was high. Thus, the intimidation was justified. Funny how the intoxicated group of Heads managed to maintain their frozen states for a few seconds. As if their buzz was killed right off.

“Well,..” Henderson began, maintain his unimpressed expression,  “I wish you all have a pleasant evening” He stressed , slowly turning to leave. “And You!” A gasp left you the moment he spun back to point his index finger at you with such ferocity and anger. With bated breath, you wondered if time froze. Until he suddenly smiled at you. “You behave now...” He said mockingly, chuckling with power as he finally left the table. With the awkward silence taking control, embarrassment injected itself into you. The way he spoke to you was certainly disrespectful. So much so, your right hand quickly clenched into a tight fist , forcing you to revisit the trauma even now by his cruel words. All your anger, centralized into this fist.

But that anger suddenly vanished into thin air, the moment you felt Bruce’s palm rest over your fist. A literal warmth spread across every cell on your being, as his palm comforted you, and empathized with you more than ever. A few seconds of that sent you to a level of peace you never visited. The fact that a man such as he was with his inner conflicts could still heal you unexpectedly, it was magic to you. Finally looking at him, you nodded with gratefulness, leading him to take his away politely.

With silence still in charge, you were guilty of your past actions ruining tonight’s occasion as well. “Maybe it’s the alcohol but...” Kline slowly began, “...that Henderson’s face always reminds me of an…animal…” he remarked, breaking the ice, “l can’t place which one exactly...” He struggled, snapping his fingers away to remember. “A Bat?” Another Head inquired. “YES!” Kline yelled out loud, causing others to finally laugh and feel the comfort take center stage once more. Letting out a sigh, you were relieved to let them converse and make merry. You were occupied enough, recovering from Bruce’s sudden touch. “...and speaking of Bats...” Kline slurred out, “That Batman fella...” “-He comes up every time…” Fox yelled towards your direction with a sigh, while the others clapped in glee. Being so popular, it was no surprise that many consider Batman to be a celebrity of his own right. “-wonder if he ever has any off days?” Kline sniggered, red in the face with sake. “Ha! Like paid leave, you mean?” “And don’t forget insurance! Boy! that man needs a big one” “Hahaha!” “Mr.Wayne! Mr. Wayne!” Kline yelled at Bruce, “Any idea about him from the grapevine ?” He inquired. “What?” Bruce asked, “…that Looney!?!” He added with an amused smile, “Eh! Not interested” he replied with an unimpressed tone. “Why?” It seemed that everyone was curious. Even you were. “Because...” Bruce paused, “Well…he’s a Looney! That’s all….” he laughed, shaking his hand in the air with dismissal. His carefree laughter infected the others, except you. As you were too occupied observing him, you could not even focus. He may have not worn the cowl, but he was certainly wearing his mask. Noticing your stare, Bruce turned to find your face filled with a soft smile.

“You really don’t mean that about the guy, right?” You murmured softly. And all the sudden, that carefree expression of his slowly melted away to reveal his true form, unmasked. “No” Calm and collected, he shook his head with a gentle smile. A sudden urge to embrace him was birthed in you for some reason, it was certainly out of your control. “Hey! Lillian’s Backup!” You jumped upon hearing Kline call you out loudly. With all eyes on landing towards your direction, you quickly sat up straight, “What’s your take on him? The Batman?” Kline inquired informally. “Oh!” Pleasantly surprised, you were speechless for a few seconds. What were you to say really? “I -I rather not say...” you admitted, as you found yourself chuckling shyly. “Eh!” Kline muttered, seemingly unamused, “She’s no fun”he claimed,  “…not like Lillian now, is she?” The others hummed together in agreement. They may have gotten lost in their own world of conversation once again. Yet, the words Kline blurted affected you deeply. “Well….” You sighed, “Nothing I haven’t heard before”   “What is…?” Bruce’s inquiry made you look at him. Placing both your elbows on the table, you took a deep breath as you kept a brave, fixed gaze at him:

“You’re.. no… fun”

You said, in a low yet strong tone as you emphasized on every word with pain, “…that one”

“I find that hard to believe” Bruce said. He did not flinch. Instead, he accepted your stare and held on to it firmly. Even with the golden lights you were still able to make out the beautiful hazel green eyes of his up close. His gaze, it was as powerful as anything physical. As if his eyes could caress the back of your neck, brushing the loose hair from it, leaving nothing but shivers on you.

Finally breaking free from it, you sat back with a chuckle.

“Well” you began, “…you obviously haven’t met my ex”

You watched his eyebrows furrow the moment those words exited you. Taking a huge sip of wine, you pressed your lips together.

“He said I fall too fast....” you began, “or care too much...or something”

Revisiting that dark period in your life was akin to walking a thousand miles backwards, just to get your heart pricked by sharp, rusted nails. The mere image of it forced you to gulp more wine.  

“Well, Where is he now?”

Bruce asked softly. Taking a third sip, you looked back at him:

“You mean after he cheated on me?” You asked, chuckling sadly, “…He flew off somewhere…with his new girlfriend” you said, sighing “Apparently I was too predictable and doesn’t play hard to get”

“Then…” Bruce began, “…what about you throwing punches at Henderson?”

“That?” You widened your eyes, “Oh that’s just the whiskey”

Laughter ensued, breaking the tension between the two once again. Truthfully, you felt much at ease right then.

“I bet you don’t have that problem, playing the field and all” You said, holding on to your wine glass. Bruce smiled.

“Ah! Getting too attached doesn’t help anyone, I guess” he answered. And for some reason, you could empathize. Now more than ever.

“True...” you agreed, looking at him. However, that warmth you carried for him was also enlarged, and suddenly emotion overpowered logic.

“I know this is the corniest you’ve heard always….” you paused, “…but when the right person comes along...it’s so worth it” you continued, taking a deep, shaky breath, “…even if your heart gets broken into millions...billions of pieces”

Your eyes locked onto his with every word you uttered, and to your surprise, he did not look away. For a moment, his gaze on you translated into deep belief. For a Moment, his gaze dismissed every other occupant in the restaurant,  except you. For a moment his silence proved that anything was possible.

Until you realized, never was life that easy.

“But like I said…” You added, blinking away the heavy stare, “... it’s not your problem” You said, fiddling with your clutch purse mindlessly.   “Actually I-” “Whoops!” You sniggered when the clutch purse dropped out of your hand. Laughing together, you both found yourselves bending down to search for it.

“Let Me get that-” Bruce volunteered, as he spotted the purse, grabbing it for you.

“Thank you” You murmured shyly, reaching out your hand to take it.

The mere act of a clutch purse being transferred from one hand to another never felt this intense. A circus act commenced inside your stomach all the sudden. The manner you found yourself blushing, certainly proved his effect as a whole. The warmth of his palm earlier, it brought protection and comfort in the time of danger. However, the slightest brush of his fingers just now, it birthed confetti of butterflies, causing the internal circus to go berserk.

As he looked you up and down, you prayed he did not notice the red on your cheeks. For this man had such power over you, it was sheer chaos. But a beautifully, addictive one.

“Your Dress...” he breathed, making your own breath shake, “You look very-” “Bruce!” A seductive voice emerged out of the blue, as you realized it was his date walking over to his side. Being one of Gotham’s most well known supermodels, she exuded beauty with her tall and thin frame and brunette locks flowing down her shoulders. Wrapping her goddess-like arms around his neck, she whispered a few words to him before heading over to the restroom area. Compared to her, you felt like a little cinder block. “She’s beautiful...” you muttered hoarsely, looking down at your wine. You heard him sigh uncomfortably. “Listen...” Bruce began, causing your heart to long for hope, “I-” “Would you like anything else, Sirs?” The emotional roller coaster unexpectedly finished its ride when an over enthusiastic waiter’s loud voice caused everyone in the table to look up. “No, Thank you...” Fox said, slowly getting up, “Actually, I think might head home now” “And I will join you” You said, standing up in a flash, “Ladies, Gentleman...” you nodded to the Heads, “...Mr. Wayne” Giving him a slight nod, you turned to follow Lucius Fox. You dared not turn back to see his face. That would just show weakness. Just walk away, it was the right thing to do. The longer you will linger, the stronger your attachment will be. The stronger your need to love him will be. And what would be the use of strengthening that existing love, when the odds were always in the way?

Seduced by the women with the highest standards of beauty and power, you obviously must seem like nothing for a man such as he. You were simply charity, the employee in need. Perhaps your ex was right, You really were no fun.

Besides, being jealous was never your right, not especially when you did not even pour your heart out. And when you would not even consider doing so, being tied to morals, ethics and rules?

And if he even had not shown you his own heart, what gave you the right to be angry with anyone, except yourself?

You asked yourself, why were you wasting your time?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Allison’s eyes grew wide with excitement the moment you arrived home.

Clutching onto her bowl of popcorn, she watched you close the door and lean against it to look back at her. Though her hair was in a messy bun, she still managed to pull off ‘homely cool’.

“So...” she began softly, “How did it go?” Silent, You took a deep breath, not knowing where to begin. “Well-” “-Did you make Wayne cream his pants?” Allison cut you off with glee, seemingly over excited. Jaw dropped, your face contorted with disgust. “Ali! …ewww” You exclaimed, seeing her perverted expression and suggestive eyebrows. Truthfully the thought of it brought some laughter soon after. You felt calmer. “Well, did he?” Allison was persistent. Pushing yourself from the door, you began to take off your shoes, “Well…” You paused, “I think he liked what he saw” you said smiling shyly. “Yeah?” Her excitement still intact, as you sat next to her.

“I think so…” you said, reminiscing those precious moments his blessed eyes watched only you, “…but…” you paused, “it doesn’t matter…”, Sighing, you shook your head frantically, “…cause he was with a Supermodel tonight so...” “Supermodel? Sweetie, I’m sorry” laying her head on your shoulder, Allison sighed in response. Patting her on the lap, you got up. Just like that, the little giddy excitement between two women suddenly crashed and burned upon knowing they were hopeless going against a supermodel.

“Hey! by the way…” Allison began, “…did you give money for Mrs. Hernandez’s going away party?”

You froze.

“Shit!” You cried out, “ I forgot!”

Mrs. Hernandez was one of the lovely tenants in the apartment building who will be moving out this week to go live with her son. All tenants were supposed to pool in for the going away party, today being the deadline. Opening your purse with haste, you groaned. “Damn it! I don’t have any change...” Of course you did not. Not when you gave away your last note to Clara yesterday. With the current use of cards and e-payment, you rarely used cash these days.

“Me neither, Sweetie” Allison replied, mindlessly staring at the television. You sighed. Transferring the money will not do as it wont be convenient for the others. And being a bad tenant was the last thing on your mind.

“Screw it!” You said, “I’ll just go get some now”   Running to your room, you proceeded to change.

“Cool…” Allison uttered quietly, until she remembered, “By the way, can you also get milk?”Allison yelled to your room,  “WE’RE OUT ALREADY!!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

If wearing an elegant dress brought out the glamorous woman in you, then leggings and an oversized black hoodie brought out the homebody. With the hood over your head, you dug your hands in the deep pockets whilst standing at the line for the ATM. What was taking so long?

Almost 11pm, yet the neighborhood was bustling more than usual. In fact, it fascinated you. Younger folk in higher numbers lingered hanging about by the Bodega. You wondered if a party was taking place somewhere nearby, as most of them wore clothes with a similar vibe. Some danced to the loud music that played, some drank sitting on the pavement, while some lined up in front of you in the ATM line. Was it a party? Or a flashmob? Or were you suddenly intruding the filming of a music video? It simply seemed so unrealistic. Could it be the sake and wine were forcing you to imagine all this?

Then moment your phone started to ring, you knew you were not imagining. Not when the phone vibrated in your hand, not when the name of the caller caused you to breath deeply.

“Mr.Wayne?”

His breath over the phone sent shivers down your spine so subtly. Attraction was indeed a strange phenomenon.

“Hey! Did you go home okay?” 

He asked. Nodding, you looked around.

“Of course.” You replied, “Mr. Fox was kind enough to drop me straight home”

“Good. Good,” As he muttered in a rush, you heard him exhale, “ Listen, can we talk? ”

Nervousness took you over with a sudden burn in your face. What must he wish to say? Was he attempting to confirm what you already dread about? Was he fully acknowledging your desires to be futile and hopeless? You kept quiet as he continued:

“About tonight…I really-” he paused, “Where are you?” The loud cheers of some of the younger folk interrupted the conversation. Amongst the crowd, a lone figure walked over to the middle of the street.

“I’m at the Bodega nearby my place” you replied, trying to be nonchalant with him. However, somehow that lone figure standing managed to capture your attention, "Huh! Strange...”

“What is it?”

Your eyebrows furrowed the moment the figure turned to face your direction. Familiarity was quite strong in him. “There’s this guy here…” you said, “… who looks just like-”

You froze, “Oh no!” You breathed.

The moment the figure effortlessly pulled out a portable machine gun from his oversized long coat, it clearly dawned on you on who he really was:

“Mr. Slender?” You muttered to yourself.

Pointing the weapon upwards, loud and rapid shots were fired, causing panic amongst the public. The shock forced your hands to lose control, almost dropping your phone to the ground.

“Hello? Hello?”

You heard Bruce loud and clear, yet you were not in the right state of mind to respond. The chaos, certainly forced your heart to beat right out of your chest. The beating, increased without any prior announcement shocked you, as if the live, blood pumping organ might literally fall out of your flesh vessel.

“EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND, NOW!”

Mr.Slender bellowed, finally revealing his masculine and controlled voice. The public, including those inside the Bodega made their way to the ground. With Mr. Slender’s reinforcements inside the building, it was made sure no one were to reach out for law enforcement any time soon. Just when it seemed all had complied to his command, one obstinate young man rose up quickly.

“Hey man!” The man cried out, walking over to him, “Be cool…Be-”

“I SAID ON THE GROUND!”

Blood curdling screams erupted from the crowd when Mr.Slender brutally fired at the man, sending him flying back, falling on to the ground like a bloody piece of meat. Given the continuous reactions from the people nearby, he was certainly dead. Emptiness and fear swallowed you whole upon witnessing this.

“DON’T EVEN THINK OF BEING STUBBORN!! ”

Mr.Slender yelled out, brandishing his gun around, “MY DEMANDS ARE SIMPLE...”

He continued, “I’M LOOKING FOR ONE PARTICULAR PERSON…” he said, “AND I WILL NOT LEAVE…UNTIL THAT PERSON STEPS FORWARD!!”

Scenes such as these, they were never expected but only imagined in modes of fiction. Be it novels or films. However, when you truly got to taste it in the rusty reality, only then did you realize the gravity of its horror. And only then at that fateful moment, did you genuinely fear for your precious life.

Especially when the person he was looking for, was you.

——————————————————

Chapter 6 HERE

Tagged: @tealaquinn​​​​​​​​ @ladyerina​​​​​​​​​ @kittenlittle24​ @wholesumm​​​​​​​ @everyday-imfangirling​​​​​​ @depressed-comrad​​​​​​ @works-of-fanfiction​​​​​ @bale-is-a-babe​​ @badsext​​​​​​​  @maddistyles17​​ @truly-insatiable​ @gooseyhouse​​​​​ @artsymaddie​​​​ @quarterback-5​ @mamooska8​​ @strangerliaa​​​​ @jensen-impala​​​ @lilyofthesword​ @woodencupcake​ @fonduebitches

Lemme know if you wanna get tagged.

Check My MASTERLIST for More :)

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 13

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, slight smut

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Warnings: Anxiety, low self-esteem, discussions of sex, mention of (f) oral sex, sexual anxiety

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: I hope you all enjoy this! As usual, if you do...please reblog and leave me a comment! Or send me an ask letting me know your thoughts, I’m glad you’re all loving Flower!Hobi!

; Flower Masterpost

-

Staring at your computer screen, a deep sigh leaves you as yet another email notification pops up in the corner. Clicking on it with as much enthusiasm as you’d give towards picking up a slug, you watch as it directs you back to Outlook and brings up the email. It was from your boss, who was literally sat across the small room from you, asking you to call a client and check whether they were still available for a meeting tomorrow.

Pursing your lips, you bring up her previous email that includes the client’s contact details and input their number into your work phone. Holding the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you tap your pen against your mouse as the dial tone fills your ear.

You really hated your job. 26-years-old, with a degree and you were just stuck doing the work people better paid than you didn’t want to do. Chewing on your lip, you contemplated looking at the list of job sites you’d begun to frequent lately, wondering whether or not you should apply for a new job.

The prospect of a job you actually loved and enjoyed was so foreign to you that it felt almost like a mythical unicorn right now, but you knew they existed. Hoseok loved his job, despite how everyone berated IT departments in every company. So you knew that there was something out there for you. 

But what was it? And how could you get it when you had no relevant experience in...well anything except for the modern day equivalent of pen pushing? Some days you were rushed off your feet doing everything for your boss, acting like a secretary, personal assistant and administrative assistant all at once.

Getting tea and coffee for work meetings, sitting in and taking notes, writing up meeting notes and distributing them, arranging meetings and visits and so much more. It was all boring and dull. The very idea of doing this for the rest of your life was simply unimaginable but you just...couldn’t get the courage to put yourself out there and apply for something better.

You were afraid of rejection and you were even more afraid of getting accepted for a job and then finding out you couldn’t do it. 

Almost without even thinking, you talk through with the client and make sure that they’re still okay for the meeting that was prepared for tomorrow. As soon as the phone clicks back into the cradle, you’re opening a response to your boss and sending her a quick email to let her know that it’s still on and that you’ve checked the room is still booked for them.

And then you just sit there a moment, staring at the screen and wondering what to do next. You had some menial tasks that needed to be done; photocopying documents for their meeting, forwarding invoices and so forth. But you just didn’t want to do any of it. 

That was nothing new though, you never wanted to do anything at work.

A sudden flash of colour out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and look over to where your phone lay on the desk, just above your keyboard. One of the only good things about this place was that no one complained about phones being used as long as you were doing your work too.

And the green that lights up the screen can only mean that someone has sent you a message on WhatsApp. Licking your lips, you glance up at your boss before unlocking your phone quickly and clicking onto the app. 

Upon seeing Hoseok’s name your grin turns even broader, feeling a little better already. He didn’t often text during the work day, often being far too busy to waste time on texting. Unlike you, he was permanently busy.

Hoseok [13:38pm]: Guess who got promoted?

Hoseok [13:38pm]: It’s me! I got promoted :D

Smiling even wider, you quickly texted back as pride fills your chest. Amazing how you’ve only been dating for four months yet you feel so happy and proud of him already. You’d known that he had a meeting today with his managers and he’d been a little worried, unsure whether or not they were going to be laying people off or not.

Y/N [13:39pm]: Yaaaaaaaaay. Can you boss people around now?

Hoseok [13:40pm]: I already boss people around

Hoseok [13:40pm]: Now I just have another department to boss...and more money :D

Y/N [13:41pm]: I is jealouz

Y/N [13:41pm]: (;﹏;)

Hoseok [13:42pm]: I still can’t get over how you text sometimes, honestly

Hoseok [13:42pm]: ANYWAY, it’s more money to spend on youuu :D and Kasumi

Y/N [13:43pm]: Hush, more money for you to spend on gigs

Hoseok [13:43pm]: :O don’t tell me how to spend my money >:[

And then you get a photo sent. Your phone’s setting means that you need to accept it before it downloads, image pixelated at first before becoming high quality. Clicking on it again, you frown momentarily before your eyes widen and your throat goes strangely dry suddenly.

He’s in an all black suit; black jacket, a silk black shirt and a skinny black tie to compliment it all off. It makes the hint of tattoos you can see pop vividly with their colours over the top of his shirt collar and the bit of wrist you can see on the hand that’s pointing at the camera. And it all complements his dark hair wonderfully, today actually styled properly and pushed up elegantly to reveal his forehead and let the astonishing beauty of his face be seen properly.

His face though, isn’t the pure sex his body is emanating. Instead, he’s got a comical expression in which his face is scrunched together, lips pursed in faux anger to go with his last text. But you don’t care, you can’t care.

Hoseok in a suit is...oh god. It’s everything, and you feel things for him suddenly that you’ve never really felt for anyone before from just seeing a picture. You...want to do things to him, right now. 

The strength of your reaction actually makes you pause, looking up from your phone as you assess yourself to try and comprehend what you feel. And what you wanted was for Hoseok to send you a serious photo of him looking like that.

Y/N [13:49pm]: You’re in a suit?

Hoseok [13:50pm]: Yeah, manager meeting

Y/N [13:55pm]: Can you...send a serious picture?

Hoseok [13:56pm]: ...you want another selfie of me?

Y/N [14:00pm]: I mean...you don’t have to

And then you get another photo sent through, causing you to swallow thickly as you download it. You end up biting your lip harshly as you try to stop yourself from making any kind of noise out loud. No one had noticed that you hadn’t done a lot of work in the last fifteen minutes, but they would notice if you made the kind of noise that wanted to erupt from your throat.

Hoseok had evidently known where your thoughts had gone from your awkward text back to him, and he’d pulled out all the stops for you. Part of you wondered where on Earth he was that he could take pictures like this without getting strange looks from his colleagues but an overriding part of you didn’t care.

Because holy shit, your boyfriend was ridiculously fucking attractive and how in the hell had you pulled him?

This photo has him in almost the same angle, only two of his fingers frame the pink tongue that pokes out of his mouth, white teeth pressing against the back of his tongue ring while his eyes are dark with intent. There’s no playfulness in this picture, at least nothing that could be done in public. 

No indeed and you squirm slightly in your seat, contemplating the wild fact that you were horny at work. This has never happened before and you didn’t really know that to do! But how could you not be? The way Hoseok was looking at the camera was the exact way he’d looked at you all three times he’d gone down on you so far.

And he knew it, given his suggestive pose with his tongue. In fact, you’re suddenly sent back to last week when he’d gone down on you in bed. You still weren’t even remotely comfortable asking him to do anything like that yet, but apparently he’d been wanting to so you’d shyly agreed once more.

Not that you were opposed to it or anything.

But those eyes he was giving the camera are the exact same he gave you from between your legs. And that just was not fair, because what were you supposed to do about this in the middle of work? You had just under three hours left to work before you left and he wouldn’t even finish till six.

Y/N [14:07pm]: Handsome

Y/N [14:08pm]: Are you still staying over?

Hoseok [14:10pm]: That’s all you gotta say to that, you wound me. And yes, be around 7

Y/N [14:11pm]: <33

Putting your phone down, you stare at your computer screen that has gotten three new email notifications since you got distracted. You don’t click on them though...instead you just chew on your lip, tapping your fingertips against the desk slowly as you think.

Maybe tonight...maybe…

-

The quick rapping on the door lets you know that Hoseok is finally here, half an hour late. Opening the door to him, you don't even get a chance to say anything as he brushes past you, kicking his shoes off and apologising profusely.

"I'm sorry, they kept me an extra half an hour 'cos some idiot basically broke his laptop and then there was traffic so I haven't been able to go back and change." He's taking his coat off, hanging it up on the little rack on the wall before looking at you and letting out a deep sigh.

"Oh I'm so glad to be home. Today has been so fucking stressful, maybe I should have turned down that promotion and it’s not even been a full day." You don't even get time to consider the fact that he just called your place home because he's suddenly leaning forward, giving you a quick kiss before moving into the kitchen.

Watching after him, you simply stare in bewilderment. You're not entirely sure that you could speak right now, hit by the double whammy of his slip of the tongue and his clothes.

It was true that Hoseok had pretty much spent the last month near enough living at your place, only going home a day or two a week but you hadn't realised he'd felt that comfortable here. You felt a shy warm happiness bubble in your chest at the thought though, looking down at your hands as you bite your lip to stop smiling like a little girl.

But what really turns you into an excitable mess is his outfit. He's still wearing the suit from earlier, his hair tousled from where he'd obviously been running his hands through it in the stress of his work.

And if he'd looked hot in his photos, he looked damn near sinful in person.

Which is why you simply watch him with wide eyes, moving into the kitchen slowly and resting a hip against one of the counters as he peers into the slow cooker that you'd set up this morning before going to work. It was just a simple beef stew with a hint of red wine, the scent delicious but you found that wasn't what was making your mouth water.

Not tonight.

"So...I didn't...know you had a suit like that." The words are incredibly stilted, sounding unbelievably awkward in your mouth and you inwardly cringe. Particularly when you see Hoseok stiffen, ever so slightly beneath the delightful black fabric that outlines his lithe body beautifully.

You knew that Hoseok had been incredibly patient with you. Probably more patient than most men would have been, not even slightly pushing you and making sure that you are completely comfortable with every moment. He didn't ask for much and you often felt bad that he seemed to give up so much in exchange for the eternal patience he gave to you. 

But he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to thrive on what little advancement in your relationship he could get. You still got shy when he gave you oral obviously, but you were far more eager to say yes compared to the beginning.

And tonight...tonight you wanted to finally let him get the pleasure he’d willingly denied himself to keep you comfortable. Especially when he looked like that.

It wasn't just a 'giving him a good time' too because you like him, a lot, but also because quite simply...for the first time ever...you wanted to have sex with someone. You desperately wanted to find out what he felt like inside you. Feel him thrusting within you and in turn explore him to find out what made him jerk, made him twitch and made him moan.

Oh god yes, you wanted to hear him moan. The very idea of him making those kinds of noises because of you was intoxicating and you squeeze your thighs together, fully in the knowledge that you were probably wet already. 

You have no doubt that Hoseok can tell there’s something different, an unusual kind of tension in the air as he turns around slowly, brow raised. Glancing away, you find yourself playing with the label of a Coke bottle on the side, fingers picking until it came away.

Part of you wanted to be brash and forward, boldly tell him what you wanted but as soon as you consider doing it, it felt like an iron band wrapped around your lungs. Breathing was made a lot of harder suddenly and you couldn’t get any words out, your limbs feeling cold and tingly with nerves and anxiety.

Oh how you wished desperately that you could be a bolder person because you just knew that you weren’t at that level of confidence yet with him. Even if you felt no expectations from him. You just weren’t there, and that’s why you were hoping he’d understand and take the lead once more. 

And Jung Hoseok, your wonderful boyfriend who you still believe is far too good for you, does so. You have no idea how he knows that you want to do more than cuddle or talk, no idea how he can tell that you’re struggling to get across your desires but he does.

He smiles slowly, the corners of his lips turning up in a smirk at first before turning into that beautiful smile that makes your heart flutter. Moving slowly, he walked over to you and you press yourself into the counter, eyes widening as you took in the long and loping stride.

Without so much as a word, he stands firmly in front of you, leaning forward just enough to place his arms on the counter, trapping you between them. You can feel the heat of him, the way his leg’s brush against yours with how close he is and the way his jacket slides along your stomach slightly. Combined with the fresh scent that was so unique to Hoseok and the dark look in his eyes, you felt completely overwhelmed by him.

Overwhelmed, in the best way possible.

Leaning down, Hoseok moves close enough until you feel the tip of his nose brushing against yours, the movement deceptively soft given the sexual tension that’s so thick between you both. Biting your lip, you force yourself to remain quiet to see what he does.

“I have more suits than you might realise baby. Why? Do you like it?” His voice is annoyingly light, innocence laced into every syllable that matches his perfect, angelic face too well. Smiling, his eyes widen ever so slightly as he waits for an answer but before you can even say anything, his arms move a little and you feel them pressing against your waist.

“Y-yeah, it...it looks good.” You stutter out, body heating rapidly as you lick at your lips, mouth absurdly dry. And before even realising...you’re pressing your face against his black shirt, feeling the soft silky material rub at your cheek while all you can think of is what the firm chest beneath it looks like.

Hoseok seems to pause for a moment before his hands move to rest on your hips, hesitantly stroking along them. Almost instantly you cringe forward, the feel of his hands so foreign and a subtle panic rushes through you as your mind screams at where he’s touching. The place you dislike on yourself, the place society has taught you isn’t beautiful.

But he touches you with so much care, light and gentle. He doesn’t push further with you, simply let the moment hold despite how tense you both are. You know what he’s doing, instinctively understand because he’s done this your whole relationship so far. He’s letting you get used to him, decide whether or not you feel comfortable with what he’s doing...what he’s offering.

Pressing your ear to his chest, you close your eyes and inhale deeply, shakily as you fight the demons of insecurity over yourself and your previous sexual experiences. Originally, you’d considered perhaps returning the favour to him and giving him oral sex. But now, hearing the strong beat of his heart and the warmth that has comforted you for many nights now...now you want more.

So you let him know, in that quiet and shy method that he must have become so used to. Your own hands tremble slightly as you move your head back just enough before you press them to his chest, hesitantly just letting yourself feel him like this for the first time. And then your fingers move to his collar, the top two buttons already undone.

Finally, finally you glance up at him, feeling unbelievably frightened that he might push you away, decided he didn’t want it. Didn’t want you. 

It had been years since you’d done anything...you knew this and he knew this by now. But you knew that he was far more experienced, so experienced in fact that it scares you a little. You felt like you’d be judged against others and found wanting, even if you knew that Hoseok wouldn’t do that.

“Hoseok,” You start, words meek and quiet. “I...erm, I want...I mean...I don’t…” 

And Hoseok moves his hands to cup your cheeks, smiling at you sweetly, so sweetly. It’s so reminiscent of when he’d gone down on you the first time and you get the urge to suddenly cry at how caring he is. How lucky you are.

“It’s okay. I know...you’re not hugely experienced and you’re not confident. That’s fine, I don’t expect anything from you. We don’t need to do anything, I was just teasing. If you want, I can just go do-”

“No. No, not today. I don’t...I don’t want that. I want...I want you.” This time, the words are a tiny bit more confident but rushed out. “I just...sex...I’ve never really...understood why people like it. You know? It just...felt okay. Maybe it was me but like...yeah, I mean...you know. It was…rushed and you’ve done so much more than me and-” Now it’s Hoseok’s turn to interrupt you, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he lets out a shushing noise.

Suddenly, surprising you entirely, he backs away and gently takes your hand to lead you back to the couch. Without a word he gets you to sit down before doing so himself, taking both your hands between his own with a quiet sigh.

“Okay, I just...want us to talk for a moment, so that neither of us get confused or offended or anything. So...yes, I’ve had a lot of sex, I won’t deny that. It doesn’t mean I’m gonna judge you though. You’re my girlfriend, the vast majority of everyone else was not. I’m incredibly turned on by you and I wanna beat my chest like a neanderthal knowing you want me too. I know you’re shy and you’re not confident of yourself, which is just plain wrong by the way because you are unbelievably beautiful. I just...I don’t want to move too fast for you and have you regret it. So...talk to me. Please.” You’re sure this man really isn’t real, because surely no one really existed like him in real life. 

“Why are you so patient?” You blurt out, brow furrowed in confusion and he looks just as confused for a moment before smiling.

“Because being pushy doesn’t get me anything? Except upsetting you and making you close up. And then if you do anything for me, then it’s because I’ve pushed and pushed until you feel forced to do it. So I’m patient. I don’t really mind, I like your company and it’s strangely rewarding seeing you slowly open up to me. I’m not doing anything for an ulterior motive.” He’s so earnest that you can tell he’s being honest but it still confuses you. 

Not that you’re going to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything. 

So inhaling deeply, you squeeze his hands and gave him a tight smile before talking. Something about Hoseok has always been comforting and reassuring, like he won’t judge you and you know he’ll be the same this time.

“I haven’t...slept with anyone in years. You’ve probably realised or...maybe I told you. But...well. I mean,” Your hands feel so clammy in his. “It wasn’t really good? I never...you know, with anyone. It just...felt fine. Good enough that I’d do it again but not so good I actively wanted it. Thought something was wrong with me because of that. I’ve accepted there isn’t...maybe even wondered if I was asexual for a while or something. Maybe I still am? I don’t really know. I just...I like you...a lot...and I like doing...things with you. I’ve never...you know…”

“Orgasmed?”

It’s a simple word and he says it so casually but you find yourself squirming at it, feeling warm and embarrassed about it. Not only talking about orgasms but also admitting that you’d never had one during sex before. So you simply nod, unable to get the words out and frowning in frustration at yourself.

“Hey...hey look at me,” Hoseok says gently, squeezing your hands till you do as he says. “Don’t feel embarrassed about it. It’s not something to feel bad about. This probably isn’t what I should be saying right now...but I’ve had a lot of sex, with...a sizeable amount of women. Do you know how many times they orgasmed during sex?”

Frowning, you wonder momentarily whether you’re meant to feel better with the knowledge that he’d been with a lot of women. Or that some of them had even orgasmed with him. But you sensed he was trying to make a point, and Hoseok had never been cruel.

Slowly, you shake your head.

“Not that many of them to be honest. I wish I could boost my ego and say I have a 100% strike rate but...I don’t. Sometimes girl’s would cum, most of the time they didn’t. I had to go down on them or something. And I’ve never had a single woman orgasm from penetration alone, they all needed some help. What I’m trying to get across here to you, and very badly because there’s nothing less sexy than hearing about your partner’s...escapades but...please don’t think that you’re always meant to orgasm during sex. Sometimes you might, sometimes you might not. I know that for some women, they just enjoy the feeling because they can’t get there. Sometimes, I don’t even orgasm. I’m not in the mood or something or I get bored...or I’m too drunk.”

That makes your eyes widen in shock and surprise. You hadn’t even though guys could just...not orgasm during sex. It made you realise how little you really knew, and suddenly you felt a little embarrassed about your lack of knowledge about sex. But he wasn’t being condescending or demeaning, so you decided to take the plunge and ask him.

“R-really? You...I didn’t know guys...I thought you just always did.” Hoseok laughs at that, looking so attractive that you can’t help but bite your lip. Even though you’re having a serious conversation with him, you still can’t mask the desire you have for him. Damn him for looking so good in a suit.

“The vast majority of the time? Yeah, it’s no problem. But sometimes like...I’m too tired to bother anymore and I just don’t want to carry on. Sometimes I’m a bit stressed and can’t get there which then leads to anxiety that I’m not. I try not to take it to heart but...you don’t need to be embarrassed. If you wanna orgasm then we can definitely try, if you don’t feel like it, then we don’t need to. It’s entirely up to you, I swear.” 

Silence falls between you both and you stare at your hands, swallowing thickly. He’s offering you so much, and part of you feels bad. But at the same time...you want to just enjoy him without the stress or anxiety of not performing like you thought you were supposed to.

Clenching your jaw, you make the decision and nod your head to yourself. Yes, you were doing this.

So without a word, you grab onto this small flame of confidence he’s lit within you and let go of his hands, instead using them to grip the lapels of his jacket and pulling him forward. His eyes widen for a second and he lets out an ‘oomph’ before you’re kissing him.

It’s not pretty at first, almost painful from the force and you both take a few seconds to reacquaint yourselves with each other before it finally starts moving smoothly like usual. Only this time, the kiss is far more intense than anything you’d had before with him, almost as if you were trying to devour each other with the force and intensity.

Pulling away momentarily, you look at him and groan softly at the desire in his eyes. You’ve seen him in moments of pure lust before, but he’s bordering on unrestrained here. And you want that, so you pull him back in, moulding your lips to his own and feeling the tingle of excitement that runs through you.

“Not here, not here. Please, I really wanna fuck you on your bed.” Hoseok gasps out as he pulls away once more, trying to avoid your grasping hands with a breathy laugh. 

You don’t even question it, getting up quickly and practically tugging him into your bedroom in your eagerness. The sheer laugh of delight he gives you as you do so invigorates you, bolstering the confidence that’s spurring you on and you hope it lasts.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him into a kiss once you’re in the safe haven of your bedroom, you prepare to trust him with your insecurities once more.

[sparkexplosive]

Sentiment [Izuku Midoriya] ; 07

Precious Chapters in Sentiment [Izuku Midoriya] SERIES

Word Count: 1,442

Midoriya Izuku has taken a shower after meeting Misaka to get his shoes fixed. His hair was slightly wet, but still, small droplets of water had fallen on top of the metal suitcase with the red ribbon attracted onto it while holding a red envelope. 

With his shaky hands, he removes the enveloped to the side to read afterward. He unclips the locks with a swift of his thumbs pushing down, with a click popping it slightly open. He takes a deep breath and opens the lid to reveal two gloves identical to his current gloves, but with different features. 

He could feel something heavy weighing on his chest, as his eyes immediately landed on the other suitcase only to open it hastily to reveal two red-colored shoes with feature details that he could pick up. 

His vision gets blurred with tears and instantly remembers your guys' conversations months ago. 

“Do you mean shock absorbing equipment?” You tilted your head in questions when he was in his rambles episodes. 

“Yeah! Like maybe filtering the wind force of my punches or kicks would help the equipment to last longest” Midoriya moved his hands around rapidly but you understood every word he was saying. 

“It would protect your bones and muscles, knowing you break a bone once in a while.” You thought which protest from Midoriya by your side comment. 

“You remember.” He softly touches the feature of the trademark of his hero sign carved onto the side of the shoes to the gloves. He could see how much time you put into this and made sure it would be comfortable as possible without restraining his moves. 

He reaches over to the enveloped to read open gently trying not to tear the envelope. He wonders what the letter holds. He knows this was supposed to be his gift as a celebration of their anniversary. 

Happy Anniversary!

I hope you enjoy the new equipment I created for you, hopefully it will help you get closer to archiving your dream. 

They are just custom to your size and comfort, hopefully I got it everything correct, do let me know if it isn't right. 

I hope you enjoy your logo on your shoes. ❤️

Every time, you need some reassurance why to continue fighting to stay alive to look at your costume. 

Remember you have a mother and a mentor to come to at the end of the day, 

your costume presenting your mother’s love and support, 

as your gloves and shoes presenting the presence of your mentor, All Might be helping you through your journey. 

I may not be there every step of the way since we are taking different paths of careers, but we always find time to be together in our busy schedules. 

A lot of love, 

[Your Signature]

The letter crumbles in his grasp with tears running down on his cheeks to fall on the piece of paper that caused him to get a wave of a roller coaster of his feelings that he is going through. 

He grasps onto his shirt off his shirt to only fist it against his chest. The memories of you scolding him for being so reckless and giving him a better version of his custom from before every single time. You work your butt off to always give him the best quality that you could do with anyone to do that. You care about him and you prove that through your inventions. You always deliver it with a smile on your face. 

He gets reminded by Misaka words, “Take them and think would someone go through deep ends to create something so accurate for your liking and safety if they didn’t care about you.” 

He could see how much work you put into his shoes and gloves that would be added to the suit that you would have made for him for the Invention event. The blueprint of what his costume would have looked like before this incident even happened. 

The effort.

The amount of time you took to plan this suit for him and create the equipment. 

The care. 

The heavyweight of the guilt of not believing you or hearing you out was burying him whole. It was eating him alive. 

He doesn’t know what to do! 

His tearful green eyes land on a picture of his mother smiling at the camera with him on her mother’s birthday. 

“Honey, you can come to me for anything at any time.” His mother's voice echoes through his mother. 

Perhaps his mother could give him advice on how to fix this big mess.

Once he recollects himself, he puts on the gadgets you created and an opportunity to try them out just like Misaka had suggested, before opening the side door of his balcony to jump off. He could feel the lightweight of the shoes compared to his previous ones where you could feel the heavyweight of his boots every time he jumps or walks. 

He needed to get some fresh air and think about what he could do. 

He does realize how comfortable gadgets are and filter the air out from the impact when he lands similar to what he had talked about to you.

Midoriya realized how blinded he was and didn't see what was in front of him. 

A loyal trustful partner. 

Believing into the rumors that [Name] was just using him when in reality, 

They cared about him and his well being. 

_________________________________________________

As time flies, the light blue sky becomes overwhelmed with the darkness of the night. 

From the distance could be seen as a green-haired teen walking through the dorm building covered with filth mixed with sweat. 

There was less tension on his shoulders as if the heavyweight he was holding vanish. 

The heartfelt talk with his mother helps him to think through how he should proceed from here and forward. He was thankful for his mother to give him advice. He knows All might isn’t the best person to ask advice along feeling awkward due to the relation to [Name]. He knows that All might and [Name] don’t have the best father and child relationship but is getting better over time. 

He just needs to figure out how to get in contact with you, since he broke his phone while jumping and running on top of buildings. 

Meanwhile, in the dorm kitchen, a certain duo was hanging out there eating a quick snack before hitting the showers after a long day of training and hard work. 

“What’s up with you and [Nickname] ?” Kirishima asks his best friend who gave him a dirty look but continues to eat his sandwich leaning over the bar counter. 

“Do you have a crush on them or something? The way you defend them ever since this dram-.” Kirishima was lighthearted chuckling before looking at Bakugou who was giving him an annoyed glare to shut up which caused him to choke on his sandwich. 

Bakugou hastily pushes a water bottle in front of the redhead, who immediately drinks to get rid of the struck food on his throat. He was hitting his chest, before speaking up. “Do you?”

“Why you fucking care? It's none of your business.” The explosive quirk user splats out to him and only glances over to the hall where he thought he has seen some kind of movement at his corner of his eye. 

Kirishima leans into Bakugou's space and stares at him which makes the other male growl at him. 

“You aren’t declining it.” He gives him a teasing smile.

He backs away and gives the other male his space back with a soft smile. “So you did catch feelings for them when you helped them with their other projects. I mean I wouldn’t blame you. They are an amazing inventor, matching with a great personality. I am not saying this, because I am dating their best friend but I have met them and know who they are.”  

Bakugou doesn’t say anything for a few moments and throws his trash away. “If I did, it's not a crime. It wasn’t planned.” 

In the hallway reveals the ex of the person they are talking about leaning against the wall while eavesdropping when he caught his ex's name being mentioned. Midoriya was shocked at hearing the news but wasn't at the same time. He knows Bakugou and [Name] did work together for her other gadgets that he couldn’t help her with beta testing them, previously and now working for the inventor event which he doesn’t blame them for changing to a different person and respecting his personal space. He knew [Nickname] has good intentions and respected his space until he was ready to confront her to having a conversation. 

He should have let her speak, before his anxiety thinking the worst things. But he has thought thoroughly speaking with his mother and traveling all the way here. 

Perhaps you needed the money for something. He doesn't know about it. You don’t seem to be a person of greed. 

He just regrets all his actions when he reacted to the rumors adding to the gossip around the school didn’t help. He let his own emotions cloud his rational thinking. 

He sneaks off the hallway as quiet as possible.

How does he even approach you?

What does he even say to you?

Midoriya scratches his head while heading to his room to get some clean clothes and head to the showers.

________________________________________________

Any predictions / theories are welcome. I would love to know what you guys are thinking. Thank you so much for supporting this series. I would like to mention I might be getting another series in bnha x reader fandom, as I have few ideas in mind. 

Also, what do you think of me creating another book where holds deleted scenes or unpublished series introduction chapters that were never published. I don't know if you guys would be interested in that. Anyways let me know your thoughts on the ideas that I have mention or this chapter.

Please be kind within the comments. I hope you are enjoying the story. Sorry for any spelling or grammar errors.

if anyone wishes to be tagged, either send me an ask or comment below this post! Taglist will be in the comments.

[narukoibito]

charity work

Wow, so I wrote a published a thing after 10+ years away from fanfiction. Please check it out if you’re so inclined!

Summary: He'd only meant it as a joke, but here she was. Ginny Weasley, his celebrity crush, armed with economy toilet paper rolls and three dozen eggs, ready to commit a misdemeanor all in the name of charity. Muggle AU Harry/Ginny

Tumblr prompt: "You're famous and I jokingly left a comment on your social media post asking if you'll go egg my ex-partner's house with me this weekend, and I never actually expected you to respond, let alone show up Friday night with dark sweatshirts, toilet paper rolls, and three egg cartons tucked under your arm" & hp_fangal's version where Harry is the famous one, Shooting for the Stars.

FF.net | AO3

Harry flopped onto the couch with a loud sigh, letting his bag slide carelessly to the ground. Sirius popped his head out from the kitchen.

“You alright there, Harry?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled from his dejected position.

Sirius raised an eyebrow and turned to Hermione, who lifted her head up from her book for a moment to give Harry a disapproving look.

“He’s been brooding all week,” she announced.

“Cho?” he asked knowingly.

“He hasn’t said, but…Cho,” Hermione nodded.

Harry made a rude gesture at his childhood best friend and godfather, who sniffed disdainfully and chortled respectively.

Yes, it was indeed his girlfriend — sorry, ex-girlfriend — who was once again souring his mood, but Sirius and Hermione didn’t know yet. He hadn’t had the heart to tell them that he’d caught her cheating on him with none other than Cedric Diggory. Not only had Cedric taken Harry’s position as a starter on the school team when Harry tore his ACL several months back, but then the recruiters who had originally come to see Harry had taken a shine to Cedric, and now several teams were making him offers. Hermione and Sirius had been going on for months about how Cho wasn’t being particularly supportive during Harry’s recovery period, but Harry had waved them off. Turns out they were more right than he could have imagined, and he simply could do without the knowing and pitying looks.

“This’ll cheer you up,” Sirius said, walking over to the wireless.

“I think something’s burning,” Harry grumbled as Sirius flicked through several stations. Sirius let out a yelp and jumped back to the kitchen, but not without first finding what he was looking for.

“Now tell me, Miss Weasley,” an unctuous female voice crowed, “about your victories off the pitch.”

Despite himself, Harry perked up. Ginny Weasley was his favorite football starter since she made a huge splash going pro at the young age of sixteen — and immediately proved her worth by leading her team to victory at her first game. He may or may not have several posters of her hanging in his closet.

“Oh you heard that I cook the meanest eggplant dish on the team?” Ginny’s sweet voice lilted over the wireless. When Harry laughed, Hermione peered at him over her book again, amused.

“That’s a very…lovely quality, my dear, but no, my avid listeners want to know all about your tumultuous love life. We all know how much you enjoy playing the field…”

Harry let out an ungraceful snort.

“I did always like playing with balls, yes,” Ginny quipped. “I’m pretty good at kicking them, so they say.”

The reporter cleared her throat loudly. “Too true. I believe one of your past paramours was reportedly found writhing on the floor when you parted ways.”

“Oh no, that was simply a handsy fan who didn’t seem to understand the meaning of ‘no,’” Ginny corrected her dryly.

“Your latest lover, Puddlemere team’s Michael Corner, and you seem to have had a bit of a nasty split,” the reporter’s voice oozed with false sympathy. “The photos of him and his assistant, Lavender Brown, in a passionate embrace —”

“You mean snogging in the dark corner of a bar?”

“Oh this must be so difficult for you,” the reporter sniffed. “You seem to have such trouble holding onto a man — they seem to prefer more feminine women over your company! Tell me, does it have to do with your being raised with six older brothers? Perhaps the rowdiness of such a boisterous family environment was not conducive for healthy relationships with men?”

Harry threw a stray cushion at the wireless, but from his horizontal position, he missed.

“Miss Skeeter, I’m not sure how my upbringing has anything to do with my boyfriends deciding to be cheating gits rather than about being forthcoming about their feelings.”

“Of course, dear. Please, tell our listeners as such a seasoned veteran, how you cope with heartbreak, especially when you uncover such deceit?”

“I’m a big fan of karma. People tend to find that what comes around goes around.”

“So mature of you.”

“And if they wake up with their house egged and teepeed, let’s hope they realize the error of their ways.”

Harry could picture Ginny’s trademark mischievous smile, and he felt his own lips curling up.

“Surely, Miss Weasley, you aren’t condoning such a crime?”

“All hypothetical, Miss Skeeter. But who am I to complain if the universe takes it upon itself to serve justice? Having grown up with my brothers, I find that anything is possible if you have enough nerve.”

As the interview wound to an end, Harry felt inexplicably lighter. He even managed to shift himself to a sitting position and found himself scrolling through Ginny Weasley’s public Instagram profile. He was momentarily distracted by a recent posting of her sticking her tongue out at the camera while cuddling with a kitten, where she alerted her fans to tune into her upcoming interview with the radio host of Me, Myself, and I.

He punched in a simple message in the comments: Caught my girlfriend snogging my replacement on my uni’s football team while I was supposed to be convalescing, and now I want to help push karma along the way this Friday. Care to lend a hand?

“You’re looking better,” Sirius observed, popping his head back into the living room.

Harry tossed his phone to the side and smiled. “Is dinner even edible anymore?”

During dinner (extra “crispy” chicken Sirius calls it, mashed potatoes, and vegetables), Harry finally caved in and told Sirius and Hermione what happened. They were so outraged on his behalf, it actually dulled his own anger enough for him to admit he was difficult to be around while he recovered, and he was probably not the best boyfriend at the time. They wouldn’t hear any of it though.

After Hermione headed home and Sirius to his study, Harry receded to his room where he took a moment to appreciate his hidden poster. Then he headed to the shower, where he may or may not have decided to relax by picturing a particularly sassy redhead. When his head hit his pillow, he immediately drifted off to a pleasant, dreamless sleep.

--

Harry let out a big yawn as he rose from his last class of the day. He paused to stretch out his right leg, which had a tendency of getting stiff after sitting too long post-surgery.

As his classmates trickled out, he whipped out his phone, already pondering where to grab take-out for his solo night in since Sirius was planning an evening out (don’t expect me home tonight). A red notification blared out at him, which was odd considering his rare use and minuscule follower-ship on Instagram. He clicked on it, wondering if someone commented on his recent post of Sirius with a big, black shaggy dog.

It was a message from…

The phone nearly slipped out of his hand.

Ginny Weasley? Bringing the phone closer to his face, he stared at the message beside her smirking profile picture.

I’m in. When and where?

Harry scrubbed a hand over his face. Was he dreaming? His celebrity crush since he was seventeen, the one he had just wanked to two days ago (and countless times over the years), wanted to help him egg and teepee his ex’s place?

After a moment’s hesitation, he began punching in the details of the closest station to Cho’s.

Meet around 10?

His thumb hovered over the send button. What did he have to lose? He pressed down. He swallowed hard as three hovering dots appeared.

See you soon.

“Fuck,” Harry said aloud to an empty classroom.

--

Harry couldn’t believe this was happening. Maybe someone had hacked into her account and was just having a lark. Maybe he was going to be mugged on arrival.

“Yes, that must be it,” he assured himself as he ascended the stairs to the front of the station.

“Are you H-P-Lightening?”

Harry looked around and nearly tripped over the last step. For a second, he thought he might have been right about being mugged, given the hooded figure that appeared on his right. But the figure pushed back her hood, and fiery gold-and-red hair spilling out like a curtain.

It was her. Ginny Weasley.

Standing in front of him in an oversized hoodie, a bag of toilet paper (economy size, she didn’t skimp), and several cartons of eggs. Her brown eyes glinted with mischief, and her lips were curled up in her devil-may-care smirk. She was close enough that he could not only make out the splattering of attractive freckles across her face, but he could catch what seemed to be the sweet smell of flowers.

“Er —” was all Harry could manage.

She arched an eyebrow. “You’re not him?”

“No — I mean, yes, I am. That’s me. Harry Potter.”

Her smile brightly. “Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“Yeah, nice,” he said stupidly. “I’m a huge fan. I didn’t think, er, I never thought —”

“I seem to be a terrible influence,” Ginny laughed, and the way it made her nose crinkle sent shivers down Harry’s spine. “Since I put the idea in your head, the least I could do was help out and prevent you from getting caught.”

“Do you always rescue brokenhearted blokes on your public profile?”

“Only the really particularly pathetic ones,” she grinned back. “My publicist is always encouraging me to take on more charity work.”

“Smart,” Harry nodded sagely. “It’s good to engage with the people from time to time. Humanize you.”

She was laughing again, and he felt ridiculously chuffed that he was making Ginny Weasley of all people laugh. It did loads for his self-esteem considering Cho was always either bemused or offended by his snarky remarks.

“Exactly,” she said, holding out an extra hoodie for him. He thanked her and pulled it over this head, reminding himself that he shouldn’t be so pleased that they were matching. As he took some of the supplies from her, and they began walking, she continued, “I don’t know, your comment kind of stuck out to me.”

He glanced at her when she seemed to hesitate and was surprised when she quickly looked away, a bit of color on her cheeks.

“And the fact that you didn’t give off any stalker murder vibes was a plus.”

He laughed. “But really, thank you,” Harry said. “I was, er, brooding, as my friends and family like to call it because of Cho, and your interview cheered me up — the way you didn’t let that awful reporter get under your skin was truly something else.”

“Ah yes, Rita Skeeter,” Ginny smiled stonily. “Should have known better than to bet against my twin brothers.”

“Bet?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t believe them when they said Michael, my now notorious ex, was shifty. Swore it wasn’t true, and they bet I’d have to go on Skeeter’s show if I was wrong. They constantly goad me about my poor judgment in men, which was really what got me riled up enough to take them on. Then a week later, I caught Michael doing some yoga with his new assistant. ‘Course they tried really hard to explain why they were working on her downward dog naked.”

Harry grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said airily. “He was a prat. If he’d just broken up with me like a decent human being, I wouldn’t have had to deal with all the latest tabloids. Besides,” she glanced at him curiously, “seems like I wasn’t the only one who’s had some bad luck with romance lately.”

“Ah yes, my tale of woe. I caught my ex snogging the guy who took my starter position after I tore my ACL. All around the time when there were recruiters coming around. Her timing and choice couldn’t have been better.”  

“I’m sorry,” she said, her hand touching his arm. He felt heat shoot through him.

“Ah, it’s not really fun hanging around a depressed sod.” One side of his mouth twisted up with a touch of bitterness. “She didn’t much enjoy my moods.”

Ginny snorted. “Right, because what mattered then was her having fun.”

Harry shrugged. Aside from some awkward, fumbling, and a bit sloppy kisses, he wasn’t really sure how much fun Cho seemed to have around him. She’d always been trying to get him to talk about his feelings, like about his parents or how terrible he felt about his injury or the lost his dream opportunity to go pro. Her insistence often made him clam up or shut down.

Ginny started asking him questions about his uni and his team, and soon they were chatting like old friends about football strategies and tactics, favorite moves, new players with potential. It was very possible he revealed just how well he knew her team’s stats, but if she noticed, she graciously doesn’t comment.

“Here we are,” he realized, skidding to a stop in front of a blue house. Ginny pulled him back behind a tree. He peered at her curiously, but she was scanning the quiet street and the house.

“Doesn’t seem like anyone is home,” she announced.

“There was a game today, with a party that tends to go pretty late.”

“Well isn’t that perfect?” She smiled at him as she pulled the hood back over her head, and he mirrored her motion.

With remarkable coordination and teamwork considering they didn’t speak a word but rather communicate with meaningful glances and stifled laughter, they began decorating the bushes, garden, porch, trees, and roof with toilet paper. Then they returned to the pavement with the egg cartons.

“Care to go first, Harry?” Ginny asked, a softness in her eyes despite her artful tossing and catching an egg with ease.

He picked up an egg and hesitated. The anger and betrayal churned through him, but there was a part of him that still wondered if maybe he should let it go.

“Hm, worried you’re unable to throw from here?” she asked casually, her eyes flashing with mischief.

Was that a challenge? She gave him an assessing glance before turning to the house.

“Maybe you don’t think you can hit that awful thing,” she said, pointing at a crow sticker attached to a window, grinning wickedly.

“Watch it, Weasley,” Harry said roughly. He wound his arm back and with impressive accuracy, hit the crow sticker on the window. “Hah!”

“Seemed a bit aggressive there,” she laughed.

“That thing always gave me the creeps,” he admitted sheepishly, remembering how the shadow of the crow seemed to follow him in that room. “Now then, you may be a great starter, but what about your arm aim?”

Her egg splattered noisily right at the center of the door.

“If we only conditioned our legs, we’d be pretty lopsided.”

He laughed as they continued to goad each other with more and more difficult places. But soon, they began to throw with more ferocity, each seeming to exorcise some past demons.

His egg cracked against the porch stair where she first kissed him in the rain.

“I wish she had never kissed me.”

Her egg smashed against a different window.

“I wish I had broken things off when he kept pestering me about wearing more dresses.”

Another cracked against the roof.

“Wish I hadn’t pushed myself too far for those stupid recruiters!”

One landed against the door handle.

“What does my love life have to do with how I play, Skeeter?”

As they went through the eggs, they spouted all the things wrong with their previous relationships before moving to other frustrations until all three cartons of eggs were empty, and the house was a comically gooey, papered mess.

Harry dragged a hand through his tousled hair, dazed by how much better he felt. He met Ginny’s eye and warmed at the sight of her flushed cheeks and pleased smile. She reached out and took his hand, and without a word, he let her draw him away, leaving the tangled mess of feelings about Cho and his doomed football career behind. Her hand in his felt like the only real thing in the world.

They walked together, hand-in-hand, in comfortable silence back to the station. As they drew closer, he grew nervous and turned to face her.

“Thank you, Ginny,” he blurted earnestly.

“You’re welcome. It was really fun,” she said. She seemed to hesitate for the first time the entire evening, looking over his shoulder.

Panic shot through him — was this it? Would he ever see her again?

“Actually,” she said slowly, “I rode here. I could give you a lift if you like, instead of taking the train.”

“Rode?” He echoed, turning to follow her gaze. His mouth dropped open. There, parked surreptitiously, was a gleaming motorcycle. “Bloody hell, Sirius will love you.”

“Sirius?”

“Um, my godfather. He’s got a thing for motorcycles. Treats his like it’s a national treasure,” he explained, blushing. “I’ve been riding them since he took me in.”

Something shifted in her eyes, but it was gone so quickly that he may have imagined it. Back was the shining amusement.

“Well then, I take it you’re not afraid of a bit of speed.” She wound around him towards her ride. She opened the storage unit and tossed him a helmet. “You’ve always got to make sure you have a nifty getaway vehicle.”

“See, this is why I enlisted an expert.”

He provided her his address, and after a quick search on her phone, she mentioned she was familiar with the area. It turned out he lived close to an old friend of hers, a Luna Lovegood, who was responsible for those quirky magazines about mythical creatures that Sirius always got a hoot out of and Hermione would turn her head disapprovingly from.

Helmet secure, Ginny hopped on and looked at him expectantly. He slipped on his helmet and sat behind her. He floundered, wondering where he should grip the seat.

“You better hold onto me.” Her voice was muffled in her helmet, but it sounded crystal clear to him. “Wouldn’t want the next headliner to be how I killed a man by not practicing safety.”

“Right — hardly a way to repay you.” He tentatively slid tantalizingly closer, wrapping his arms around her middle. God she was fit. “That, ah, safe enough?”

Ginny nodded jerkily. “Yep, that’s great.”

She lifted her left leg, kicked into gear, and soon they were roaring through the winding roads of London.

Harry loved to feel the wind whip around him and the familiar rumbling underneath him. It made him feel like he was flying. But damn Ginny wasn’t kidding when she liked it fast, and he found himself gripping her a little tighter than he had expected but enjoying every moment of it — the feel on her in his arms, the elevated rush of adrenaline due to her speed. Watching the buildings, streets, and vehicles go by in a blur of lights made the night feel magical.

All too soon, Ginny was pulling up in front of his home. He hastily pulled away, hoping that his graceless way of removing his helmet would disguise his blush. She made it seem so effortless when she pulled her helmet off and threw her head back, her hair cascading down her shoulders. They smiled at each other, not sure what to say, but he didn’t want the night to end. Harry couldn’t believe his luck, and maybe he shouldn’t push it, but when else was the universe going to wink in his direction?

“Would you like to come up?” He cringed. “I can make you a cup of tea, I mean — as a sincere thank you for being both my partner in crime and my savior.”

He braced himself for the rejection.

“Oh,” she said, sounding both surprised and breathless. “Yes. That sounds nice.”

Harry led her inside, nervously watching her glance around the cottage. “It belonged to my parents.”

“It’s lovely,” Ginny smiled, walking over to the mantle.

“It’s a good thing that Sirius isn’t home — he probably wouldn’t stop pestering us if he were.” He scrambled to tidy some of the papers and books on the coffee table.

“Is that him?” she asked, pointing to a photo of Sirius with a ten-year-old Harry in his arms. Harry was laughing really hard, his wire-frame glasses knocked askew, and Sirius’s attention was completely on Harry, a wide grin on his face and affection shining in his eyes. It was one of Harry’s favorite photos, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about Ginny seeing him when he was a bespectacled, scrawny boy.

“Yes,” he said, as she continued to gaze at the photo thoughtfully. “Er, kitchen?”

She let him lead her away. “Your home is a lot cleaner than my parents’ place. Though I suppose that isn’t too difficult to achieve. I have six older brothers and all.”

“Sounds nice. It’s just been Sirius and me, sometimes a dog — he can never resist a stray — and occasionally my pseudo uncle when he needs a place to crash.”

She pulled the dark hoodie over her head, and his breath hitched when her jumper lifted to reveal a sliver of pale, freckled skin. Harry hastily set about heating up the kettle, trying to remember his train of thought.

“Can’t imagine what it would have been like with so many more people.”

“Rowdy and loud,” she said, her affection in her voice obvious. “Never a dull moment.”

“Was it hard? Being the only girl.” He rummaged in the cupboard, praying that Sirius hadn’t eaten the last of the biscuits.

“Sometimes, but it taught me to be…inventive.”

“Sneaky you mean?”

“When I had to be. They insisted for the longest time that I couldn’t play football with them, so I snuck out at night and practiced myself.”

“You certainly showed them,” Harry laughed, emerging victorious with a tin of biscuits he’d baked with Hermione a few days prior — hers had come out a bit rockish despite following the recipe exactly, but his were decent. “Did you always want to play professionally?”

“Yes.” She thanked him when he placed a steaming cup in front of her, offering sugar and milk. “What about you?”

Yes was on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason he paused. “I love football. I started playing as a kid, first with kicking the ball around the yard with Sirius.”

“Were you any good?”

“Um, was the youngest starter in secondary. Was scouted for my uni’s team.”

She gave a low whistle of surprise. “A lot of promise, then.”

“Hardly compares to you,” he smiled.

“If you want, I can refer you to some of the best physical therapists. You can be back to where you were in less than a year.”

Harry stared at the steam from his cup as he nibbled on a chocolate biscuit. For some reason, the prospect didn’t seem to strike a chord.

Ginny tilted her head. “It’s just a thought.”

“Oh — um, thank you. That’s really generous,” he cringed at his word choice, “I just —”

“This thing with your ex will pass, Harry.”

“I know — I mean, it kind of already has.” He fell silent, not really sure exactly what he was trying to convey. “I was really upset earlier about the whole thing — Cho and my replacement going pro in my stead. But right now, I just feel….relief?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling foolish and confused, but Ginny sipped her tea and gave him time to sort himself out.

“I love football and always will, but don’t know if…if I was all that upset about the recruiters so much as — ” He faltered, not sure where he was going with this. She reached over and squeezed his arm encouragingly. “As disappointing Sirius.”

“Your godfather?” she asked softly.

Harry nodded jerkily. “Yes. He was best mates with my dad. Practically brothers.”

He went quiet again, lost in his thoughts.

“I don’t know Sirius, but the way he looks at you in those photos makes it hard for me to think anything you’d do could disappoint him, Harry,” she said, a fierce look on her face.

A lump formed in his throat, and he cleared it several times, feeling heat crawl up his neck.

“My dad was about to go pro when…” Harry swallowed hard, his voice thick. He reached over and took her hand in his, marveling at how small and smooth her skin was. “When he and my mum got in an accident. A drunk driver on Halloween.”

“I’m so sorry, Harry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I don’t mind,” he said and meant it. He was surprised considering he never talked about his parents, but with Ginny, it came so naturally. When she looked at him like that, he felt like he could tell her anything. “I suppose — I wanted to fulfill their dream — dad’s and Sirius’s.”

He stopped, taken aback by his admission. He glanced down at their joined hands as her thumb gently caressed his knuckle. Was that why he had been so upset lately? He and Cho had been on the outs even before his injury.

“Everyone always says how I look just like him. Except for my eyes. I’ve got my mum’s eyes.”

His heart pounded in his chest at the way her warm brown eyes stared up at his. “You’ve got the greenest eyes. They’re green as — ” She stopped, blushing.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Green as?”

“Er — I’m blaming it on the relentless practice making me barmy, but I first thought green as a freshly pickled toad.”

They both burst out laughing, the mood lightening immediately. Ginny withdrew her hand to cover her face, which glowed like the setting sun. His hand felt strangely bereft without hers.

“So what is your dream?” “Erm — I don’t know,” he admitted. He thought hard about his hobbies outside of football. “I guess…maybe becoming a cop or detective? Solve crimes, help people.” “So you’re not usually the type to egg someone’s house?” she teased. “Ha! No, not exactly, but it was worth it.” Getting to meet you. “Though don’t get me wrong, I’m not above breaking rules. Had a bit of a reputation back in the day.”

She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “A troublemaker, are you?”

“Trouble usually finds me,” he grinned back.

They continued to talk late into the evening. Between all the banter, Harry found himself revealing a lot more of himself than he ever expected. Ginny, to his delight, seemed equally comfortable, even sharing a dark experience about a run-in with Tom Riddle, a wealthy and well-liked wealthy football team owner, which had Harry gripping his mug so tightly he nearly shattered it. But she carefully uncurled his fingers and her touch softened the edge of his anger. He never wanted to stop talking to her, getting to know her. Before they knew it, it was nearly three in the morning.

“It’s getting late,” she finally said, and he agreed reluctantly. They exchanged numbers and even took a photo together (would it be too creepy if he set it as his background?).

As he walked her outside, he wondered if it would be too strange or forward to offer his bed (he would obviously take the couch) or maybe call a cab so that she’d have to come back soon to pick up her motorcycle. He was jarred from his thoughts when he nearly walked into her.

“I had a wonderful night,” Harry said. “Best one in…I can’t even remember.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Do you think we can — do this again?”

“Have more exes who have done you dirty?”

He barked out a laugh. “Maybe not an ex, but I know a bully or two. Really, I’d love to see you again. You can even decide whether we commit another crime or not.”

Her lips quirked up. “Not sure that’ll help you become a cop, but yes, I’d really like that.”

They stared at each other, neither wanting to move away first. When the pressure in his chest grew unbearable, he shoved his hands into his pockets and began to turn and walk back towards his house.

“I guess I’d better… Goodnight, Ginny.”

Stupid berk, he fumed. So much for being brave.

“Harry?” she called out.

He turned around to see her running toward him, a hard, blazing look of determination in her face. She threw her arms around him as he opened his, automatically wrapping around her. And without thinking about his nerves, her fame, his crush that had blossomed into much, much more in only hours, he kissed her. There was nothing else, just Ginny, her lips sliding over his, her sweet-smelling hair in his hands, her body pressed against his. He never wanted it to end. After what felt like several sun-lit days, they broke apart.

He pressed his forehead against hers. “That was…”

“Yeah,” she said. “It was.”

They finally pulled away. He probably looked like a besotted fool with his mile-wide grin, but he couldn’t work himself up to care when Ginny was grinning up at him like that.

“So I’ll call you? Maybe — maybe we can get together tomorrow, er — I guess today?”

She bit down on her lower lip as her grin grew. She reached up and adjusted his skewed glasses. “Yeah, today.”

“A proper date,” Harry felt the need to say.

“I’ll let you woo me and everything,” Ginny chuckled.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

But instead of moving away, they leaned in and kissed again. They’d go their separate ways…in due time.

[snkpolls]

SnK Episode 61 Poll Results (for Anime Only Watchers)

The poll closed with 164 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!

Please note that these are the results for the Anime Only Watchers’ poll. If you wish to see the results for the Manga Readers’ poll, click here.

Anime only watchers, beware of spoilers if you venture over to the manga readers’ poll results.

---

RATE THE EPISODE 142 Responses

Episode 61 received even better reception than episode 60 did for anime only viewers, with all votes leaning 3-5 on the rating scale, none of our respondents seemed let down by the episode! 

AMAZING!! not action heavy this time, but the information i gained  was a big insight on what’s to come! lots of things are gonna go down and i’m s c a r e d. ready for next sunday 😈🔥

It was fire 

I really loved this episode, better than the last episode. Animation quality was on par with movie quality. MAPPA is giving us their best, ALL HAIL MAPPA.

1 word. Awesome

I love the pacing on this episode and the small details in it. 

Give me more!!!

bruh

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING WAS YOUR FAVORITE SCENE/MOMENT? 142 Responses

Reiner monologuing about the 104th at the dinner table took front and center seat this week with 43% of viewers favoring this scene the most. Trailing behind, 16.9% enjoyed the scene where Reiner meets up with the Warrior Cadets, and 9.9% enjoyed seeing the human forms of the Cart and Jaw titans for the first time.

WE FORGOT TO ASK LAST WEEK D: WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING SCENES/MOMENTS FROM EPISODE 60 WAS YOUR FAVORITE? 142 Responses

Last week, the highest percentage of people (at 30.3%) enjoyed Reiner’s, “I’m sick and tired… of walls.” 19% favored the scene of Zeke’s scream turning Eldians into titans. 17.6% were most hyped up over Reiner and Galliard wrecking Fort Slava.

MAPPA WENT ALL OUT WITH THE CINEMATOGRAPHY IN THIS EPISODE. WHAT DID YOU THINK OF THE CINEMATIC PANS AND ROTOSCOPE ANIMATION? 142 Responses

Overall, 75.4% of the total vote went in favor of the animation this week, with 33.8% of viewers stating they felt as though they were watching a movie, 32.4% enjoying the fluidity, and 9.2% enjoying the upgrade from the stiffer animation in the previous season. 10.6% felt the rotoscoping and cinematic shots were a little too over the top for an anime, and 10.6% are indifferent. A small handful aren’t enjoying the cinematic animation at all. 

Hated the rotoscope, loved everything else.

It was a bit off-putting at first but I've grown to really like it

it was different but i liked it! it was cool. reminded me of some anime movies i’ve seen, though unique in it own sense

Thought it was great and fluid just at some points like the scene with udo on the docks felt a bit choppy.

Beautiful work, it honestly felt like I was watching a movie. From cinematography to shot framing to the animation. A dialogue heavy episode felt exciting, which is amazing.

I really liked the animation

The animation is so glowy

NOW THAT WE’VE GOTTEN TO HEAR A LITTLE MORE OF THE NEW OST TRACKS, HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE SOUNDTRACK SO FAR THIS SEASON? 142 Responses

People are overall enjoying the new music so far, with 41.5% feeling it really compliments the change in atmosphere and 35.9% REALLY enjoying the songs and finding their usage very good. 9.9% feel they’re just ok while 7.7% miss the music being composed solely by Sawano. A smaller handful aren’t enjoying the new music.

They DEFINITELY bring the right vibes lol. again, different, but i like it!

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE CLOSEUP OF ZEKE’S MOUTH? 141 Responses

In our first of a series of unnecessary crack questions, 31.9% find Zeke’s mouth closeup to have been pretty cool animation. 24.8% are very concerned about Zeke’s treatment of his lungs (do shifters get lung damage?). 20.6% didn’t care about Zeke’s mouth at aoo, while 14.2% would welcome a smooch from him. A handful of people just think it’s gross, lol.

Fucking hate zeke smh 🙄

He smokin a spliffy 😂 not no ciggy 

what chapstick using??lmao.  it was a cool scene

WHAT’S YOUR OPINION ABOUT ELDIAN ASSES? 140 Responses

Eldian asses didn’t turn out to be too controversial, with the majority (42.1%) just wanting to know the details of Zeke’s secret ass wiping technique. 10.7% just think Eldian asses are neat, and another 10% are more enthusiastic about some nice Eldian asses. 25.7% are confused about the question’s inclusion, and 11.4% don’t understand why this was asked at all.

DO YOU WANT REINER TO GIVE YOU A HEAD PAT? 140 Responses

In a close race, 42.1% of respondents would be thrilled to get a nice head pat from Reiner! 41.4% apparently don’t, and just wanna know what the heck the pollsters are smoking while writing up these questions. 11.4% do NOT want Reiner head pats. :(

ZEKE SEEMS TO BE KEEPING HIS ROYAL LINEAGE A SECRET FROM MARLEY DESPITE HIS LOYALTY TO THEM. ANY IDEAS WHY YOU THINK HE IS? 139 Responses

Zeke, the “wonderboy” (as General Calvi puts it) who sold out his own parents, has never been doubted by Marley in terms of his loyalty. Yet, for some reason he seems to be keeping his royal bloodline a secret from them. When we asked why that is, over half of respondents (56.1%) state that they are suspicious of Zeke and his real motives, believing that he is plotting something under Marley’s nose. 25.2% feel that he doesn’t want them to know he’s royal so that they can’t abuse his power, and 12.9% think he simply doesn’t let them know so that they won’t kill him. 

I forgot he was royal 

maybe they will force him to continue the bloodline through children, or maybe he will get used or killed

Well if they dont know hes got a hereditary advantage over both his predeccesors and succesors, he'll always be recognised as the best beast titan and heaps better than my boy Colt.

WE LEARNED IN THIS EPISODE THAT FALCO’S LAST NAME IS “GRICE.” DO YOU THINK THIS WILL HOLD ANY SIGNIFICANCE? 139 Responses

32.4% of respondents don’t remember anyone named Grice. To recap, “Grice” is the name of the person who recruited Grisha Yeager into the Restorationist group, and is the one who was kicked off the wall for the restorationist titans to chase after once they were transformed by Marley. For those that did remember this seemingly random person, 52.2% feel that this relation will be brought up again and have importance to the story, and 12.9% feel it doesn’t really mean anything other than being a neat little detail. 

I feel like you asking this implies that there’s something to it

Not sure yet. But, Falco and Colt seem to be really caring and aware of how the Marlyeans treat Marly-Eldians (at least compared to the other warrior candidates). Also, when we saw their parents they seemed kind too, showing lots of concern for Colt. Maybe they learnt what the former restorationist/other Grice was doing and his cause of death and sent their kids to the warrior program for the same reason Grisha and Dina did Zeke? My bet is Colt & Falco are the restorationist Grice's nephews?

YOUR REACTION TO THE CART TITAN BEING A CUTE WOMAN? 140 Responses

Pieck deserves a colorful pie chart, and she got one! 25.7% say she’s best girl, 22.9% think she’s utterly adorable. 13.6% of viewers already knew about Pieck before getting to this point and were unsurprised. At a tie, 11.4% of voters think that it’s amazing, or they were shocked to find out that the quadrupedal nightmare titan is really just a short, cute woman.

I worked it out last episode since the armbands appeared to indicate the 'type/status' of Eldians, but I was a bit surprised last episode I thought from the trailer the red bands may be special lineages i.e. Ackerman, Oriental clan, and Riess/Fritz. Still think she may be from the oriental clan though since the only characters we've seen with a similar appearance to her are Mikasa and her mother.  

she kinda shawty 👀 but she looks scary too

WE WERE FORMALLY INTRODUCED TO MORE CHARACTERS THIS WEEK, SO WE WILL ASK AGAIN… WHICH NEW CHARACTER IS YOUR FAVORITE SO FAR? 143 Responses

Last week, Falco was the most favored of the new cast with only 40% of the vote. This week, he shoots up over 10 percentage points, with 50.3% of viewers feeling the most positively toward him. Pieck comes in second with 17.5% of the vote, and Gabi is hanging on with just 12.6% of the vote. Colt and Galliard are trailing just a little bit more behind them. 

Gabi best girl

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE FATE OF YMIR? 144 Responses

While we did get teased about Ymir’s fate in Season 3, seeing the scene in full can definitely have more of an impact. 37.5% of respondents have accepted the notion of Ymir dying, and feel that it was a decent end for her character, all things considered. 22.9% are in complete and total anguish over her fate, and 20.1% are simply just disappointed and had hoped to see more of her. A very small percentage think that this is actually a red herring, and that Ymir is somehow still alive somewhere.

Already saw this in season 3

Appropriately grim and realistic given what lengths Marley will go to in order to protect themselves 

I am in so much pain please euthanize me that’s my wife

i didn’t really like her anyway so it’s fine(but it was still a bit sad) 

Kinda hate crimey considering shes the only OUT (@jean) charcter. Nah jk. Like wasnt shocked tho coz we saw Galliard last ep

Let's fucking GOOOOOO

Galliard will NEVER replace Ymir, I already hate his bitch ass

So Galliard really is a replacement scrappy eh? I already hate him JUST for that.

TURNS OUT THAT GALLIARD IS MARCEL’S BROTHER. DO YOU THINK THIS WILL BE SIGNIFICANT? 143 Responses

Over half of respondents (52.4%) believe that Galliard’s relation to Marcel will have significance at some point. 32.9% think that it might, but don’t want to say either way. A small percentage feel it’s just a detail that won’t matter. 12.6% have completely forgotten who Marcel is (to refresh your memory, Ymir ate him before RBA attacked the walls).

DO YOU THINK THE MAN WEARING THE ARMBAND INCORRECTLY WILL BE IMPORTANT? 144 Responses

At 73.6%, the majority of viewers are eyeing the random amputee soldier who Falco briefly helped out, believing that he will be important in some manner moving forward. 13.9% believe that it’s just a random soldier, and the scene maybe meant more in terms of showing Falco’s kindness. 12.5% aren’t sure what to make of the amputee soldier at all.

LAST WEEK, WHEN ASKED WHO WILL INHERIT THE ARMORED TITAN, THE MAJORITY PICKED FALCO. AFTER THIS EPISODE, WHO DO YOU THINK WILL INHERIT THE ARMORED TITAN NOW? 143 Responses

Falco is still the most favored to inherit the Armored Titan from Reiner with the percentage of people believing he will jumping from 37.6% to 48.3%. 21.7% are still confident that Gabi will ultimately be the one who gets to eat Reiner. 28.7% believe that neither of them will inherit Reiner’s titan at all.

DO YOU THINK THAT REINER REALLY BELIEVES THE PARADISIANS ARE DEVILS? 143 Responses

The overwhelming majority of respondents don’t believe that Reiner really means what he says when he calls the Paradisians “savage, heartless devils.” Only a small percentage feel he does really means what he says, and a handful of others aren’t sure.

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT REINER WITH WHAT WE’VE SEEN IN THIS ARC SO FAR? 143 Responses

The majority of viewers feel very positively about Reiner and are enjoying seeing more of him, with 46.2% stating that Reiner is really starting to grow on them, while 26.6% already liked Reiner from the start. 18.2% are beginning to feel more empathy for Reiner, although they still aren’t huge fans, and a smaller percentage don’t like him and haven’t been swayed by the narrative as of yet. 

Always seemed like there was lots to him, enjoying the furthered development into his psyche :) 

he’s so hot omg. i feel so terrible cause he’s clearly suffering from ptsd and his disorder too. he seems torn. i do like how he is playing a major role so far. 

I’m in love with Reiner and always have been

Meh

Reiner became 1000% hotter after his life fell apart

REINER AND GABI ARE REVEALED TO BE COUSINS. THOUGHTS? 142 Responses

36.6% of respondents were genuinely shocked to learn that Gabi and Reiner are cousins. 21.8% feel more invested in Gabi’s character arc after knowing this information. 19% were already spoiled on this, and 15.5% don’t really care about it at all. 

Kinda thought she wanted to fuck her cousin lmao

Makes me horrified how casually they talk abt eating Reiner

They had the same last name so I figured they must have had some relation.

Yee haw

GABI QUESTIONS REINER AFTER HE TALKED ABOUT THE 104TH, ASKING IF PEOPLE ON PARADIS WERE ALL BAD. DO YOU THINK SHE CAN OVERCOME HER BRAINWASHING TO SEE THAT PARADISIANS AREN’T EVIL? 143 Responses

The majority think that there is a possibility for Gabi to see things from a new perspective over time. 40.6% aren’t completely sold on it yet, but also believe that it’s within the realm of possibility. 32.9% are very confident that this is the direction her story arc is going to take, and 26.6% think that nothing will be able to undo years of brainwashing for her.

THE TYBURS ARE SAID TO BE AN AFFLUENT FAMILY THAT HOLDS THE WARHAMMER TITAN, BUT HAVE NEVER BEEN INVOLVED IN ANY CONFLICT. WHY WOULD THEY WANT TO GET INVOLVED NOW? 139 Responses

While we still don’t know much about the Tybur family, we thought we’d check in and see what preconceived notions viewers may already have about them. 27.3% believe the Tybur family feel the same as Marley and see Paradis as a threat. 30.2% think that the only reason they’d want to get involved in the conflict is if they get something about it. 41.7% think that the Tyburs are super sus and ultimately will have their own agenda for attacking Paradis. 

They got the good life already, why battle?

WITH AN ATTACK ON PARADIS BEING IMMINENT, HOW DO YOU THINK REINER WILL REACT WHEN HE RETURNS TO THE ISLAND? 139 Responses

We’ve seen Reiner struggle over the weight of his sins in previous seasons, with Ymir even pointing out that he has developed a type of “split personality” to cope with the horror he forced onto the people of Paradis. With the prospect of returning to the island, we asked how you think Reiner will handle the situation. With the highest percentage, 32.4% of respondents feel that Reiner’s mental state will make him completely ineffective if he returns to Paradis. 28.8% think he may even completely switch back to his “soldier persona” once he faces his former comrades again. 26.6% believe that he will keep himself together and stay focused on the mission handed to him. 9.4% think he will find a way to avoid going back altogether. 

Honestly, don't know.

I wouldnt say ineffective, probably just ina daze of sorts. Like hes not fully in the moment.

Idk if he is even gonna go

Not Sure

I hope my boi Reiner makes it through!

REINER FLASHBACKS NEXT WEEK! ARE YOU EXCITED TO FINALLY GET THE WARRIORS’ BACKSTORY? 142 Responses

The vast majority are happy to be finally getting the Warriors’ backstory in the next episode, with 69% feeling overwhelmed with excitement about it, and 19.7% just happy to finally be getting to this point. A smaller percentage don’t really care about learning their backstory and a handful of people are actually dreading it. 

I loved the baby warrior flashback and can’t wait for next week.

ON A SCALE OF REINER TO ZEKE, HOW EAGER ARE YOU TO GET BACK TO PARADIS? 141 Responses

While there is a handful of people who are enjoying the new perspective and getting to know these new characters in Marley, the majority of viewers are (unsurprisingly) eager to see what’s going on with the original cast after the 4 year time skip and the cliffhanger at the ocean in season 3. A message from manga readers: we know your pain, just hang in there!

This arc isn't really doing it for me. The story is only interesting when it focused on the 104th.

If their goal is to make me sympathize with the Warriors it ain't working, I frankly don't give a crap about their sob stories and want to see Eren and friends wreck shit for them

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE EPISODE?

Animation and graphics quality is amazing. The sea was CGI too which feels a bit too detailed compared to other things. The plot and vibe is amazing. I like the WW2 style of things. There are so many interactions coming just the thought makes me hyped up. I can easily rewatch it and notice new details and i enjoy it too. Feels really packed and intense.

Solid, loved the animation props to MAPPA, cant wait to see Reiner's character development.

Kinda just people walking around with HELLA ptsd.  Overall kinda vibey Very reminiscent of seas 3 part 1. I will say kinda tgf about these knew kids accept Colt, just wanna see the ogs and Jeans side part. I also HATE Reiner but.........dare I say.....he's growing in me???? Not gabi tho 

Great episode, the trailer's beginning to make a lot more sense now. I didn't expect that guy with the long blonde hair declaring Eren as the enemy (from the trailer) to be part of the Tybur family (maybe I'm wrong here but he looked identical to one of the Tybur family members in the photo Zeke showed.) I assumed he was maybe the Marley leader haha. I think he may be the warhammer titan but it's hard to tell at this point. Regarding the Tybur family, another curious thing is how they are celebrated internationally not just domestically for their help during the great titan war. I am curious whether Marley only treat the Tybur family well because if they didn't that would create issues globally? It seems like the Tybur's have lots of power. But, I wonder if the war hammer titan will be a letdown... I thought it would be the 'big boss' of the titans but after learning that titan doesn't go through training like the other titan shifters and never fought I feel like it's a 50/50 on whether the shifter will be strong or not... I also feel like the guy Falco spoke to was Eren, and this could hint at Eren noticing and possibly trying to indoctrinate Falco? and he was possibly watching Reiner talk to the kids? That was probably Pieck though. Curious how Pieck's father was shown but not mother, he also didn't look like he was from the oriental clan maybe we have another Mikasa on our hands (half Ackerman/Oriental clan) that would be cool, maybe a little bit fanservicey tho.

I like that the focus is on world building right now

I’m just so excited to see what’s coming next

It was friggin awesome but I’m curious on who fell off the roof 🤔

Who is the guy who jumped and died ? :(

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 138 Responses

Thank you again for participating! We’ll see you again next week!