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spotsandsocks · 2 years

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A Matter of Perspective

Buck tries to help Eddie out by getting him a date. Eddie’s not keen and Buck can’t work out what he’s doing wrong. Hen tries to help explain.

Read on AO3 7k M

Eddie manages to slip the eye roll past Buck but the other man definitely doesn’t miss his sigh. Blue eyes narrow and Eddie finds himself on the wrong end of a glare before Buck returns his attention to the laptop.

“What about him?” his friend’s finger leaves a smudge on the screen they’re both looking at.

Eddie manages a noncommittal noise accompanied by a shrug. It’s not his fault if he’s run out of enthusiasm, he hadn’t had that much to begin with and Buck’s been like this ever since Eddie came out weeks ago.

“Or him?” Another smudge over another face that’s pleasant enough but does very little to interest him. When he shrugs again this time it’s Buck’s who makes a noise; an irritated huff of air, followed by an almost cross sounding, “You're just being difficult now.”

The problem is Buck’s on a mission to get him dating, ‘widen his options’ he said but Eddie’s not keen to say the least. He’s been cooperating for the most part because Buck's a hard man to say no to but he’s getting bored now and Buck’s getting annoyed.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him or the other ones” Buck's voice reveals how exasperated he is and to be fair Eddie doesn’t really blame him, technically he’s cooperating with Buck's online dating plan but he’s not being very enthusiastic.

To make matters worse they’ve gathered an audience; Chimney and Hen have arrived to see what’s going on. Buck’s too busy looking at profile pictures to notice the look being passed from Chim to Hen and back again but Eddie catches it out of the corner of his eye. He’s glad they're amusing someone.

He refocuses his attention on Buck and mutters “I’m just not feeling it” unfortunately that doesn’t go down well and earns Eddie another glare but before Buck can express just how unimpressed he is Hen’s voice interrupts,

“Maybe they’re not your type?” she says from his left, her eyes on the screen.

Eddie has no idea why she said it like that, he looks at the screen wondering what she means.

“… not your type?”

Buck glances over at Hen, the odd inflection in her voice puzzles him but Eddie’s reply pulls his attention back to where it should be; on helping his friend, his annoying friend, the one who’s refusing to be helped.

Eddie’s answer to Hen is “No, I guess not.”

Chim jumps in with a follow up question, “So what’s your type?” and again Buck picks up on the hint of something pointed in the tone.

Eddie doesn’t seem to notice the tone or maybe he just ignores it, either way he answers the second question too.

“Don’t think I have a type, just someone who’s kind, good with kids, happy to spend time with me and Chris.” Eddie considers it a bit more “Someone I can count on, who’s there for me no matter what and can make me laugh. I think all those things are more important than looks and you can’t pick that up from an online profile.”

Neither Buck nor Eddie notice Hen’s jaw drop at the description of Eddie’s ‘type’.

Chim does and bites back his smile. It’s hard to keep a straight face but he might as well not bother trying because the two idiots in front of him don’t notice anything else around them. Buck’s gone back to looking at the photos he’s selected, intensely focused on helping his best friend and Eddie is busy gazing at Buck while he’s distracted by the images.

Chim shakes his head and thinks to himself, hopeless, absolutely hopeless.

Buck isn’t as oblivious to his surroundings as Chim thinks. He is focused on the profile pictures but as always he’s sharply aware of Eddie next to him. He really wants to help him out, he just wishes Eddie wasn’t being so picky or stubborn or maybe it’s both.

He studies the pictures on the dating website trying to work out where he’s going wrong. All the men look good to him. It’s a perfectly nice selection of guys, they do tend to have a certain look and he’ll admit he influenced that; various shades of short brown hair and kind eyes stare out at him but they were the best looking anyway and Eddie wasn’t really being that enthusiastic about picking anyone so what was he supposed to do?

Buck’s not stupid, he knows Eddie’s not 100% sold on this online dating thing but he just needs a bit of a push, that’s all, to get back in the game.

His stomach does a strange flippy thing that he ignores, it’s best all round if those feelings lurking under the surface don’t get pulled out and examined too closely. Occasionally he’s honest enough with himself to admit he’s almost glad Eddie’s being fussy, if he’s not dating he’s with Buck and Buck likes being with Eddie very much.

No, best not to think about how he’d prefer to keep things just as they are because Buck is a better man than that, a better friend. So he’ll do the right thing and encourage Eddie to push himself, try new experiences. If only he’d stop being difficult they could get this done, he looks at the screen again, yes in his opinion all the choices he’s made on Eddie's behalf are excellent.

Buck’s eyes catch on the one guy Eddie did show a slight preference for, that one stands out from the others because his hair and eyes are slightly lighter than the rest. Maybe he could persuade him to try that…

Suddenly Eddie pushes himself away from the table and laptop and stands, saying firmly, “I’m getting a coffee.” Buck takes the look thrown his way as an invitation to join him so he jumps up and follows, leaving the open laptop behind with Hen and Chim.

The two members of the 118 who are both significantly more aware than the men who just left, stare at the screen a little longer. It’s hard to look away from the selection of men Buck chose that all bear a resemblance to Eddie in one way or another and the one with curlier hair, blue eyes and a blinding smile that Eddie chose for himself.

“You see that don’t you?” Hen asks in a slightly desperate tone, finger pointing towards the screen to emphasise the words.

Her friend pops his gum and replies, “Oh yeah. I see it.”

Both sets of eyes drift towards Buck and Eddie laughing as they make coffee together.

Chim sighs, “How much longer do you think this is going to take?”

Hen’s answer doesn’t give him much hope. “With those two?! I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“… not your type?”

Eddie’s answer to Hen is “No, I guess not.”

Chim jumps in with a follow up question, “So what’s your type?” and again Buck picks up on the hint of something pointed in the tone.

Eddie doesn’t seem to notice the tone or maybe he just ignores it, either way he answers the second question too.

Neither Buck nor Eddie notice Hen’s jaw drop at the description of Eddie’s ‘type’.

Chim shakes his head and thinks to himself, hopeless, absolutely hopeless.

Buck’s not stupid, he knows Eddie’s not 100% sold on this online dating thing but he just needs a bit of a push, that’s all, to get back in the game.

“You see that don’t you?” Hen asks in a slightly desperate tone, finger pointing towards the screen to emphasise the words.

Her friend pops his gum and replies, “Oh yeah. I see it.”

Both sets of eyes drift towards Buck and Eddie laughing as they make coffee together.

Chim sighs, “How much longer do you think this is going to take?”

Hen’s answer doesn’t give him much hope. “With those two?! I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

Continue on A03

Tagging a few people who expressed an interest when this was finished

@loveyourownsmiilee @livingwherethesidewalkends @bitchwitchidk @jacksadventuresinwriting

#911 fox #911 fic #911fic #buddie #buddie fic #ao3 buddie #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #911 fanfic #spotty scribbles #buddie fanfic

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goldentournesol · 4 years

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Operation Make Believe

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Spencer and Reader go undercover as a couple at a fancy restaurant to catch a prolific unsub.

Length: 5k

A/N: enjoy this lil fic while i take a short break from my series :D

masterlist

“Okay, so we’re looking for a guy who targets rich heterosexual couples.” Morgan stated from his seat at the round table. Looking at the photos almost made Y/N sick, she nervously twirled one of her rings around her pointer finger.

“He’s quite violent, too. Removing the men’s fingernails and chopping off the women's’ hair? That’s a pretty specific signature.” Emily spoke, glancing at the file.

“So let me get this straight, this man has killed 7 couples and we’re hearing about this just now?” Rossi questioned with indignance.

“Unfortunately, local PD has found it incredibly difficult to track this unsub down. That’s why we’re being called in.” Hotch replied, without even a twitch to his brow.

“So the guy’s good, how are we gonna get him?” JJ asked, leaning back in her chair.

“We know he frequents the local high-end restaurants because that’s where he picks his couples, he almost always picks victims who have just gone to dinner together, judging by the contents of their stomachs thanks to the autopsy reports. We should canvas the restaurants first and ask waiters if they find anyone suspicious. After that, we are sending in two undercover agents to try and lure him out.” Hotch explained and then a short silence ensued.

Y/N looked up from her file to find most of the team’s eyes on either her or Reid, “What?”

“You and Reid are the obvious candidates.” Hotch put it simply. Y/N glanced at Reid nervously, who happened to look just as nervous as she felt. He cleared his throat.

“Can I ask why us?” Spencer inquired.

“You two are the most compatible, considering your friendship and how close you are in age, and it would look the most realistic. We need to be as realistic as possible with this unsub, he is extremely picky. Make it believable. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch answered, straightening the files on the table and promptly leaving the conference room.

Spencer and Y/N both flushed and avoided each other’s gazes until they were on the jet.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay with this? I’m sure Hotch would understand if you’re not.” Spencer leaned over to ask softly once the briefing had ended and everyone settled in for the flight. Y/N looked from the window to him.

“No, yeah, yeah, I’m totally fine with it. I was just a little nervous because I haven’t gone undercover before, but how hard can it be, right?” She sent him a small smile and a shrug, hoping it would hide the nerves.

It turned out to be very hard.

Standing in front of a gross bathroom mirror in a police precinct, she analyzed herself in her fancy dress and elaborate makeup and some part of her found herself wishing it was real. All of it. She wondered what it would be like to actually go on a romantic date with Spencer. If she was being honest, it wasn’t her first time wondering that. Not long after she’d joined the team, she found herself growing more and more attracted to a certain endearing genius. At first it started as a normal friendship, but then he got too sweet, too good to be true. She found herself living in daydreams with him too often. Those daydreams never quite disappeared, they just seemed to permeate other aspects of her life.

Love made you stupid, she was aware. There was not a single moment that passed by that she wasn’t thinking of Spencer. She couldn’t help it, she was like a moth drawn to a flame. Except the flame was Spencer, and she’d never wanted to be burned so badly before. But she’d learned to suppress her feelings. They were coworkers and close friends after all. A romantic involvement could ruin both those relationships if it ended badly.

But now her team was depending on her to act extremely in love with Spencer and she wasn’t sure she could do it without actually raising suspicion to the fact that it was real the entire time. So it’s safe to say she was panicking a little.

“Y/N? We’re ready, you feeling okay?” Emily stuck her head in through the door to ask.

“Huh? Oh yeah, totally ready. I’ll be right out.” Y/N checked her makeup, made sure her earpiece was well hidden, and adjusted her fancy dress to hide her firearm one last time before stepping out. Across the room, Derek immediately finished up his conversation with one of the local officers just to walk over and provide her with a whistle of approval.

“Damn, Y/L/N! Looking good!” Derek outwardly announced, making her cheeks redden immediately.

“Oh shut up, Morgan, I’m still armed.” Y/N snapped back, although he was unable to take her seriously with her flushed features. He sent her a signature dazzling smile and she found it hard to keep one off her own face.

She turned a little to see Spencer staring at her with wonder. He was dressed in a black three-piece velvet suit with a bowtie. He looked simply exquisite. They both smiled wide as they neared each other, Spencer extending his hand to her in the most gentlemanly of ways. She let her hand slip into his, somewhat glad for the support he gave her because of her high heels while simultaneously getting butterflies at the slight touch of his hand.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Spencer smiled and spoke quietly to her, proud that he wasn’t a stuttering mess just yet.

“And you look...expensive.” She let her eyes roam over his outfit before letting out a harmonious laugh. Spencer couldn’t help but grin in response as he adjusted his waistcoat with his free hand. They’d decided that Y/N would be the one carrying a firearm instead of Reid because her dress hid it better than his suit could have.

“Alright, kids, settle down. Now, let’s go over the plan. You’re going to go into the restaurant, sit at a table where you can be sure our unsub, George Mendoza, has a perfect view of you. You’ll have to make it super believable, he has to believe you guys are head over heels for each other.”

Shouldn’t be hard, they both thought, sharing a glance even though they didn’t mean to.

Morgan was really selling this. Y/N wondered if he knew…

But then again, if Garcia knew, Morgan knew. She also may have been forgetting that she was on the A team of profilers and just maybe the heart eyes she often gave Spencer gave her away already.

“Now, we know he corners his victims in the parking lot. We have to make sure he follows you out. Prentiss and Morgan will be by the door to follow you two out and hopefully ambush Mendoza.” Hotch explained and the two of them nodded.

“Got it.” She said, already shifting her weight from one foot to the other, the heels making her feet ache. Spencer noticed and dropped her hand, only to wrap his arm around her waist in hopes of steadying her and giving her the extra support she needed. JJ and Emily shared a knowing glance as they watched the subtle interaction between the two lovebirds. Y/N smiled to herself but avoided looking at him in order to keep the redness of her face at a minimum.

Spencer led her to the black SUV parked outside and they both hopped into the backseat, with Morgan and Emily in the front.

“Ready?” She asked, looking over to see a nervous-looking Spencer beside her as the car came to a halt in front of the restaurant.

He took a deep breath and nodded, “Ready.” He got out of the car and jogged around it to open her car door. She mirrored his actions and took a deep breath as well before plastering a huge smile across her features as she stepped out of the car. Morgan and Emily drove off to keep from blowing their cover. She and Spencer walked towards the greeter behind the podium, her arm tightly wound around his.

“Reservation for Dr. Reid.” Spencer spoke confidently. Y/N had to keep from biting her lip at how much she loved the sound of that.

The greeter smiled, “Right this way.” he led them to a table and Y/N was in Mendoza’s direct line of sight.

“I’ve got eyes on Mendoza. He’s sitting with a woman and two bodyguards are guarding his table.” She spoke with a smile to Spencer and also to the team through her earpiece.

“I’ve got him.” Morgan confirmed from wherever he was, apparently he could see inside the restaurant.

Spencer turned to look ever so discreetly and pretended to be looking for the waiter. He noticed Mendoza ogling Y/N and it made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Do you wanna switch seats with me?” Spencer asked, visibly uncomfortable.

“What, why? Are you okay?” She replied.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m...fine, I just thought you might be more,” he cleared his throat, “comfortable if he wasn’t looking at you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered in her chest for a moment before glancing over to Mendoza, “Well, I’m fine, besides I think it’s better this way..that I’ve caught his eye.” She said with a slight roll of her eyes, making Spencer break into a grin.

“Don’t switch seats, that’ll look suspicious.” Emily spoke into their ears, “Now, don’t be so stiff. Relax, order some food or some drinks, whatever.”

“Alright, alright...relaxing.” She spoke mostly to herself and looked up at Spencer. Somehow looking at him made her feel at ease. His soft brown eyes brought her the reassurance she needed. Her gaze was intoxicating and Spencer could feel his hands starting to sweat as he wiped them on his pants.

“So this place is really, really fancy.” She said as she looked over the menu, which she could barely understand, “Wonder why he likes it.”

“He has an intense fixation on rich couples. Perhaps he sees his parents in the couples he chooses.” Spencer said, looking over the menu as well.

“Stop talking about the case!” Morgan’s voice boomed into their ears.

“Right, right! Sorry!” She whispered, “Okay, okay. Spence, tell me about these dishes, I have no idea what to order.”

“Um, okay. Well, I think you’d really enjoy the gnocchi in roasted red pepper sauce, Rossi’d made the same sauce and you’d really enjoyed it then when it was paired with pasta. Also the flavor of gnocchi is pretty neutral so it pairs really well with pungent sauces. Did you know that gnocchi originated in Northern Italy because the climate was better suited for growing potatoes rather than grain?” he continued to speak about gnocchi and all the different sauces one could eat it with.

Morgan had every intention to interrupt Spencer’s ramble but then Emily noticed the heart eyes Y/N was giving him, “Wait, no stop. Look at her, she’s into it.” Morgan chuckled and shook his head at the couple.

“Sorry...you should have stopped me.” Spencer ended his spiel, shyly taking a sip from his glass of water.

“Stop you? Why would I ever do that, you know I love your little tangents. Being with you makes me feel smart, actually. Except when you go on about quantum physics, I cannot keep up with that no matter how hard I try, I’m sorry.” She laughed and Spencer felt his confidence returning, “I can’t believe you made gnocchi sound so good. Now, I have to try it!” She grinned at him and Spencer swore he saw her eyes twinkle.

“What will you get?” She smiled at him, playing with her earring, a nervous tick of hers. Was she really that nervous? Why did she look so good doing it?

“Spence?” She noticed him zoning out slightly but he zoned back in.

“Huh? Oh, sorry um, I was a little distracted.” He blushed a little.

“Oh, by what?” She glanced over her shoulder to see if there was anything distracting behind her.

“Nothing, you just look very pretty.” Spencer complimented and she could not control the intense rush of blood that raced to her face.

Morgan and Emily both drew in breaths through their teeth, “Daaaaamn, pretty boy’s got moves.” Derek whispered to Emily, their mics off.

Y/N giggled bashfully and looked down at her menu, shaking her head. This is all an act, Y/N. Get it together! Spencer reveled in her flushed cheeks for a moment before glancing down at his menu again, “I’ll probably just get the steak.”

For the next hour, they both made small talk with more encouragement from Emily and Derek. When the food came, she leaned closer to him and he fed her a piece of his steak, completely overlooking the fact that he’d just shared his fork with someone else. The sight of the two of them acting so hopelessly lovesick nearly made Emily and Derek sick themselves. During dinner, Spencer had migrated closer to her and they could barely keep their hands off of each other without any prompting from their earpieces. Y/N now had one hand on Spencer’s thigh and the other was intertwined with his as he draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer ever so slightly.

Hey, he was probably never going to get to do this again, might as well enjoy it.

They giggled together over stories of their pasts, “I’m serious, my leg was on fire and Morgan had to put me out!”

“Oh come on, you expect me to believe that?” She laughed, her head leaning onto his shoulder.

“Yes!” He exclaimed, laughing. In the midst of her laughter, Spencer felt the overwhelming need to press a kiss to her wonderfully flushed cheek, so he did. He placed a soft kiss to the side of her cheek and made sure to linger enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin. The feel of his lips on her cheeks almost sent her in a spiral but she refused to meet his eyes, knowing that her eyes would most definitely give her away. Give away the longing and yearning she felt. She almost didn’t want to catch Mendoza because she knew that meant she’d have to give this up.

“Okay, lovebirds, Mendoza is losing interest. You have to up the ante somehow.” Derek spoke into their earpieces. Y/N was a little confused as to what more they could do to get his attention back to them, but she could practically hear the gears turning in Spencer’s head. She suddenly felt him separate himself from her and get up to walk around their table to be on her other side.

“What is he doing!” Emily whispered to Derek and he shrugged.

“Spence, what are you doing?” Y/N asked as he stood before her, offering his hand just like earlier in the evening.

“Y/N, do you trust me?” Spencer whispered as she put her hand in his. She felt him tug on it for her to stand with him and she finally nodded.

“Of course I do.” She whispered back, glancing around at people’s gazes who were now stuck on them.

“Then just go with it.” He smiled mischievously as he knelt down onto one of his knees. Y/N immediately caught herself hoping that it wasn’t the knee he injured before she realized what was happening. Her hands flew to her mouth in genuine shock. He was proposing, well, not actually proposing, but still! In his hand, Spencer held the ring she usually wore on her pointer finger, he must have taken it off without her noticing.

“Y/N, I have never doubted for a second that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. From the moment I met you, you consumed every piece of my mind, body, and soul. And at first I was afraid at how willingly I’d give it to you, but then I realized that there is not another person on this planet that I’d rather have my soul. You are the light of my life, Y/N. When I wake up in the morning, you’re the first person I think of and when I fall asleep, my thoughts are only occupied by you. There are around 170,000 words in the English language, and no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to express to you just how much I love you. Y/N, will you marry me and make me the happiest man alive?” Spencer stared up at her, hoping the weight of his words would somehow reach her through the guise of the assignment.

Y/N stood there, tears gathering in her eyes from the sheer overwhelming-ness of it all. Never had she imagined (because she has imagined it, if we’re being honest) that the day Spencer Reid would propose to her, it would be fake. The tears slipped out, she felt like sobbing at the artificiality of it all. Luckily those tears were in her favor to sway external witnesses. She suddenly remembered that he’d asked her a question.

“Yes! Yes, a million times yes!” A heavy sob escaped her and Spencer quickly slipped the ring onto her finger. Spectators clapped wildly and cheered for them. That definitely caught Mendoza’s attention.

She threw her arms around his neck while he hugged her waist to lift her off the ground slightly. Spencer momentarily allowed himself to believe that this was real. In a moment of giddiness, he set her down again on the floor and pulled her in for a celebratory kiss by her waist. It took her a moment to realize what was happening, but soon reciprocated the tender kiss. Although it was short, it was unlike any other kiss she’d had. They pulled away from each other when the clapping and commotion had died down. Spencer had smiled graciously at people who were congratulating them, while she was still completely dazed from the kiss. They both went back to their respective seats, Spencer now back across from her rather than beside her.

Emily had lowkey been hitting Derek’s arm as they kissed, a moment she and JJ were surely going to tease Y/N to the ends of the Earth about.

Y/N had just barely composed herself enough to wipe the remnants of tears from her cheeks which resulted in a low whisper coming from Spencer, “Are you alright?” She nodded and flashed him a smile, one that told him just how not fine she was, but Spencer decided to let it go for a moment. He hoped he hadn’t crossed the line with the kiss.

“Good job, kids. You are definitely back on Mendoza’s radar.” Morgan spoke into both their earpieces.

They waited another 10 minutes before making their exit, their meal already paid for. Spencer had his arm tight around her shoulders as they walked out of the restaurant and pretended to wait for the valet. Derek and Emily still had eyes on Mendoza inside, who waited exactly one minute before he and his bodyguards were on the move.

“Mendoza’s on the move. Y/L/N and Reid, get ready for the signal.” Emily spoke, still in their hiding position.

Y/N took her gun out of her thigh holster and kept it out of view. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand as Mendoza approached them from behind.

“Congratulations to the lovely young couple. Can I just say how well you two suit each other?” Mendoza’s slimy voice began and it made their skin crawl.

“Now!” Emily spoke and both she and Morgan emerged with their firearms raised at the three men.

Y/N swiveled around and aimed her gun at him, “FBI, hands up, now!” She yelled and Mendoza’s men came forward to attack the two of them when they all heard the clicks of Emily and Derek’s guns from behind them.

“Uh-uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Derek taunted. Mendoza visibly deflated and Spencer was quick to cuff him and read him his rights.

“George Mendoza, you are under arrest for the murder of 14 people…” Spencer went on as Emily and Derek cuffed the other two men. Y/N took a deep breath as she watched her teammates stuff them into police cars. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Hotch.

“Nice work, Y/L/N.” He gave her an approving nod and led her back to one of the SUVs. She immediately relaxed back into the seat and took off her heels.

On the jet back to Quantico, Y/N was teased quietly by Emily and JJ but they could tell that something was off about her. She wasn’t as bright as she usually was. Her eyes didn’t shine with the triumph that came with solving another case. Instead she was reserved and proceeded to retreat into herself when the teasing had stopped.

Oh how she wished it was real. She found herself keeping the ring on her ring finger rather than returning it to its rightful place on her pointer finger. She wanted to live in the daydream for as long as she could. Spencer’s words swirled around in her head with no shame or trepidation. She didn’t have an eidetic memory, but she would remember those words forever. Hearing them over and over seemed to have cracked and broken her heart and she was frantically trying to piece it back together. On the far side of the jet, Spencer was in a pool of regret. He wouldn’t have kissed her if he knew it’d make her uncomfortable. She has barely spoken to him since they closed the case and it didn’t seem like she would be talking any time soon.

Hotch had given them two days off to cool off from the case and get some much needed sleep. Y/N thought that spending time away from Spencer would somehow heal the cracks in her heart, but they only seemed to make it worse. She knows she shouldn’t have cried into that tub of ice cream, but she couldn’t help it. She thought back to her friend who’d just gotten engaged the previous month and while she was never the jealous type, she found that feelings of envy were inevitable. She wondered if Spencer had meant anything he’d said. What did it mean if he did? No, no, she wasn’t even going to entertain the thought that he might feel anything for her. That would only lead to false hope and possibly deeper heartbreak.

But…

The way he’d looked at her when he said he loved her. That couldn’t be faked, right? She was a profiler for goodness’s sake, she should have been able to tell, but it was abundantly clear that her feelings for Spencer got in the way of her profiling skills.

Going back to work was relatively easy, except for the fact that she couldn’t look Spencer in the eye without hearing the words he’d said to her. It was ridiculous of her to even consider the fact that he might have not been just acting. She’d spoken barely two words to him and Spencer was itching all day to speak with her, but he just couldn’t. They were both avoiding each other for the wrong reasons. Unfortunately, their coworkers noticed the obvious shift in behavior. It was so unlike the two to be so awkward around each other. JJ had even caught Spencer doing a 180 and returning to his desk as soon as he saw Y/N at the coffee machine.

Something must be done.

They’d all decided to leave quietly 15 minutes early, minus Hotch and Rossi who were already cooped up in their offices. They hoped the empty bullpen could give them the privacy they needed to talk about whatever they needed to.

“Hey, Em, could you look at this for me? I think--” Y/N trailed off as she glanced up from her paperwork to see an almost completely empty bullpen, “Oh, where did everybody go?” she asked herself and technically Spencer, who also seemed to be totally engrossed in his work.

“Hm, I think everyone left already.” Spencer stood from his desk, bones cracking as he did so.

“That’s weird…” she shrugged and tried to get back to work.

“Um, so what did you need Emily for? I could take a look at it if you want.” Spencer offered, walking over to her desk and leaning on the side of it.

“Uh..y-yeah, sure.” She stammered as she looked for the file she just set down, having him in close proximity was making her mind go numb for a second, “Here, um...I think it was filed in the wrong folder. I’ll just--uh..give it to JJ tomorrow or something.” She swallowed, avoiding his eyes as she showed it to him.

“Hold on a second, I think...this...goes in here with this case…” he trailed off as he grabbed a folder from his own desk.

“Huh, someone must have accidentally placed it on my desk instead of yours.” She nodded.

“It was probably Anderson.” They both said at the same time, making them both laugh.

It felt right to laugh with him again. Spencer’s heart skipped a beat when she finally looked up and grinned at him. He felt like the air was somehow restored to his lungs. He watched as she shyly looked back down and tucked some hair behind her ear. He cleared his throat and fumbled with the file in his hand.

“Hey, I--uh...never got the chance to apologize...for uhm, how things went when we were, y’know undercover.”

Wow, real smooth Spence. Great job.

He watched as her brows furrowed together, eyes lifting to meet his, “What do you mean?”

“I...shouldn’t have...kissed you, I’m sorry. I just thought...I don’t know, it seemed like most couples usually kiss after proposals and I thought if we didn’t kiss it would have looked weird. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Y/N.” He apologized and Y/N’s heart might have definitely exploded in her chest. Here was this sweet, sweet man who was apologizing because he felt like he made her uncomfortable, as if that’s the reason she’d been acting weird.

“No, it didn’t make me uncomfortable at all!” She laughed it off, shaking her head. My God, Spencer Reid, there really is no one else like you.

He fought off a relieved smile, “Oh, it didn’t?” She shook her head, laughing wholeheartedly now.

“No, on the contrary, I quite liked it, Dr. Reid.” She rolled her eyes, still giggling.

“Why have you been avoiding me and acting all awkward then?” He laughed with her.

“God, Spencer, did you really think I was being awkward because you kissed me?” She spoke, her arms lifting up and coming back down in disbelief.

“Yes!” he nodded, crossing his arms and shifting as he leaned on her desk, “I thought I’d made you uncomfortable…”

“No...Spencer, that’s not it at all…” She smiled softly but it began to fade as she stared at him.

There are around 170,000 words in the English language, and no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to express to you just how much I love you.

“Then what is it, Y/N? What’s going on?” He pursed his lips, wanting to absorb any and all the pain she’d ever felt in her life.

She had to know.

“The things you said...while you were uhm...proposing. Did--did you mean any of them?” She looked up at him with the largest doe eyes he’d ever seen. Her eyes began to shine with tears as her shoulders tensed with anticipation.

He shifted again uncomfortably at the question and her unfaltering gaze, “I--uh, I did, actually.” The heat rushed to his face and ears, “I definitely did mean them, Y/N. Does--does that make you feel weird?”

“No, no, not in the slightest,” her face broke out into another grin, this one with hints of relief, as she stood up from her desk chair to be at eye-level with him, “actually, if I’m being honest, I wanted you to mean them.”

Spencer smiled as he uncrossed his arms, “Is that right?”

“Mhm.” She hummed, placing both her hands on the sides of his neck, his hands now resting comfortably on her waist. She watched as his gaze never left her lips.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes briefly flickered upwards to hers for permission.

“Please do.” She smiled before he connected their lips.

It felt right this time. She knew it did because she could finally savor the feeling of her stomach doing somersaults. She knew because she could finally know the feeling of his large hands roaming the expanse of her back in efforts to pull her closer. She knew because she could finally feel the incredibly soft tufts of hair at the base of his neck as she weaved her fingers through them.

In the distance, Hotch and Rossi simultaneously checked the bullpen through the blinds of their offices at the suspicious silence. Both of them shook their heads and laughed at the blooming of young love.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid masterlist #CM #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction

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sinner-as-saint · 4 years

Text

Hostage Of Your Eyes - 1.

Mob!Bucky x reader.

Part 1 of this series.

Run-through: You accept an unusual offer made by a very familiar, but dangerous mob boss. And despite the bizarre situation and all the troubles that come along; old flames rekindle – and you find love again, where it wasn’t supposed to be.

Themes throughout the series: (fake) kidnapping, gang stuff, mentions of violence, smut, fluff, mob!bucky,

a/n: oh boy, here we go again… THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. If you are NOT COMFORTABLE with ANY of the THEMES above, please click away and read something else.

You had always been the kind of woman who secretly liked slightly authoritative and dominant men.

What you meant by that is; you liked men who were slightly more rough than the average lover, one who wouldn’t mind pinning you down on his bed, holding you down by your throat while he makes love to you, one who wouldn’t mind occasionally taming the hidden brat in you. One who wouldn’t mind reminding you that you belonged to him and keep you in check, all while still loving and respecting you.

What you didn’t mean by that is; having a mob boss break into your apartment in the middle of the night, and force you to listen to him while he made you a very unusual offer.

“Hello babygirl.” He spoke. And you faced him with pure confusing and partial hatred. You had woken up due to the sound of someone walking into your bedroom. You panicked, and turned your bedside lamp on and, there he was. With a smile on his face.

James Buchanan Barnes was the son of a high profile mob boss, and he was currently the leader of the biggest, most dangerous gang in the area. And he also happened to be the son of your late father’s good friend. And James was also, your secret ex-boyfriend. Nobody ever found out that you used to date back then.

You and James dated for two years around the time when you were 19, back when you still lived with your family. Your breakup was messy; involving a lot of fights, and insults and tears and never wanting to see each other’s face again.

But now here he was, 5 years later; standing in front of your bed in the middle of the night, smiling softly at you. His guards and ‘his people’ surrounding him with serious faces. You looked at all of them, and they looked expressionless, and robotic. Like machines only meant to obey orders from their boss – James.

You tried to cover your body with you blanket as much as possible, given an ex of yours was invading your privacy.

“If you don’t get out right now, I’m gonna call security.” You spoke, looking him dead in the eyes. James chuckled, and some of his guys smirked.

“Oh the big guy from downstairs? Yeah, he’s passed out.” He spoke, smirking and approaching you.

He walked over and sat down at the edge of your bed, making himself at home. He reached out and tried to touch your face but you pulled away. You weren’t afraid of him, but you and him hadn’t had a proper closure and you still remembered how brutal your last fight was before you walked out on one another.

“Relax babygirl, I’m not gonna do anything. I’m just here to talk, alright? I need you to hear me out because, I need your help. Please.” his voice was smooth and gentle; quite the opposite of the reputation he had earned himself.

You were about to tell him off, and use a colorful language but then you looked into his eyes and you simply couldn’t think anymore. Deep blue; deeper than the ocean, and just as icy as the tip of a frozen mountain. His eyes had depth, and they were somehow always so shiny and full of mystery and danger. It was what you liked about him the most, all those years ago.

You looked away before all the memories came flooding back in, like they always did. People say that one doesn’t really forget their first love, and in your case it was true. As much as you disliked James now, you never quite forgot him, or forgot what you and him used to have.

You get out of your bed and moved away from him, now starting to get hyper. “You break into my apartment, invade my privacy and now you expect me to hear you out because you need my help? Who do you think you are, James?” you said, bitterly.

James sighed and gave a slight nod to his guys and they all walked out of your room; leaving just you and him.

“I know this looks wrong, and I know you’re upset babygirl, I just need you to h-,”

You cut him off.

“Don’t call me that!” you snapped, and you could tell he was running out of patience. He took a deep breath and stood up; walking over to where you were.

His gait was just a perfect as he was. You eyed him shamelessly and admitted that he was indeed, still very handsome.

“Fine, then just listen t-,”

You scoffed and cut him off again.

“Look, whatever it is, I don’t care. Now I want you to l-,” and this time he cut you off by pushing you back and holding both your wrists above your head, pinning them against the wall and pressing his body against yours.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to listen, babygirl. Because I don’t have much time to waste right now, and I’m not good at tolerating disobedience.” He spoke sternly, and let go of your wrists but didn’t move his body. “Just please listen to me, I’ll leave once I’m done. Please.” He added with a much softer voice.

You could hear the desperation in his voice, and his actions. James Buchanan Barnes wasn’t one to plead people ever, but he had done it three times in the past few minutes so this must be urgent.

You nodded, and he pulled away, stepping out of your personal space.

He walked over to the couch in your room and patted the spot next to him. “Sit.” As much as you hated how he ordered you around in your own home, you did what he asked you. Because the quicker you’d listen to whatever bullshit he had to say, the quicker he’ll be gone.

So you went and sat next to him. He was respectful enough to keep a comfortable distance between the two of you. And then he spoke up.

“I want you to help me take down your mom and her husband.” He spoke, and immediately had your undivided attention. You mindlessly turned your body towards him a little.

After your dad passed away when you were younger, your mom remarried a vile man. He was never home, and neither was she. So you barely ever saw them, but you did dislike them. Your mom was a cold woman, and she never quite loved you like mothers love their daughters. You had always been closer to your dad, but with him gone – you were left, unfortunately, in the care of the two people who didn’t care about you at all.

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate, James.” You were suddenly very curious.

James nodded. “I will if you stop calling me that.”

You sighed. “Fine, would you be ever so kind to elaborate on what you just said, Bucky?” you sassed and rephrased and judging by the smirk on his face, you figured he liked the old nickname better.

“They’ve been a pain in my ass for a couple years now. They had some of my guys killed, and some are still their hostages. They’ve been constantly placing obstacles in my way, snatching away all my deals and turning my allies against me.” Bucky turned to look at you. “I need you to help me.”

Your mom’s husband was a mob as well, and she was his partner in crime. Had always been, which is why she never took care of you; she was always too busy chasing money and power.

However, it was all still very unclear to you. You understood why he wanted to take them down, but you couldn’t see how or why you would fit somewhere in this.

“I don’t see what I can do to help. I mean, I sure know how to use a gun but-,”

He cut you off by inching closer.

“I need you to allow me to kidnap you.” He said with a straight face and you almost laughed.

He spoke with so much seriousness that you couldn’t help but question his sanity. “Are you out of your mind Bucky?”

He looked down, as though he had predicted that this was how you would react to his offer.

“I know it sounds silly. But hear me out. The moment the news of you having been kidnapped by my people reaches them, they’re gonna go bat shit crazy. Both he or your mom won’t have their guard up, and that’s when I’ll step in and take back all that they took from me.”

Bucky explained further and you thought over it for a minute.

“Buck, what makes you think kidnapping will help? You, of all people, know how much they don’t give a shit about me. My own mother won’t care if I live or die.” You explained, thinking of all the times you needed your family the most, but had no one.

Bucky sighed, inching closer again, reaching out to touch your cheek gently. And you didn’t pulled away this time. You let him caress your cheek; gently, without saying a word.

“Fake kidnap you, first of all.” He corrected you with a smile. “And second, I know they don’t care, but what they do care about is all the money and property left in your name by your dad. And as stated by his will, if anything happens to you, none of the money will go to your family. So your safety means a lot to them, maybe more than you think.” He explained and you nodded slowly.

Bucky kept explaining. “I’ve been keeping an eye on both of them. And they’ve been trying to forge your dad’s will. And once they succeed in doing that, they won’t hesitate to…harm you.” he paused and continued. “But if you’re, supposedly, kidnapped before they change the will, that will slow them down because they’d be concerned with your safety first and that will give me more time.”

He added, “Plus, even if they do try to harm you then, being with me will guarantee your safety because,” He gently traced your lips with his thumb, “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You looked into his ocean blue eyes and you saw the comfort you always looked for. And then you asked yourself, why do you still trust him blindly? You knew him, but people always said that he had changed. You had heard what he had become in the last few years; nothing but a ruthless, merciless monster. The infamous gang leader.

But here he was; gently asking for your help. Talking and explaining the situation to you like he was your friend. His methods sure were cold, like people said. But you saw the same warmth in his eyes like you did back when you first told him you loved him. And he said he loved you back. You felt the same tingle on your cheek when he touched you, just like you felt the first time he made love to you, years ago.

“How do you know all that about me?” you asked, discretely leaning into his touch.

He smiled.

“Looking out for you was a habit, and it still is, I guess.” He replied, softly. And you rolled your eyes and smiled. It was crazy how easily and flawlessly he could blend back into your life; it was like he never left.

All that he said before hurt, a lot. You and your mom never got along anyway, she never loved you. But wrapping your head around the fact that she and her husband would purposely try to hurt you just for money, was a little hard at first. But then you looked back on how they treated you, and suddenly it wasn’t so shocking anymore.

You knew them enough to know that they wouldn’t think twice before harming anyone for money and power. Your mom had always been after your dad’s fortune, and you still remembered the bitter look on her face the day it was announced that you were the only one who inherited all that once belonged to your dad. She and her husband hated you even more after that.

Your dad’s people suggested that you moved out of there and cut off all contacts from them for your own safety. So you did.

And you hadn’t heard of them for the past years, until now.

“Even if I do agree, I can’t just up and leave, Bucky. I have a job, I have dad’s companies to run and my friends, I-,”

He cut you off again.

“It’s all been taken care of. You could always work from home, and your people will be told that you’re taking a nice, long vacation.” He spoke, leaning back; very relaxed now that you were on the verge of agreeing.

“How long of a vacation?” you asked.

“Anywhere from two weeks to two months.” He answered, smirking.

You gave it all a thought again.

“Fine.” You agreed to the very bizarre plan of his. At least, your cruel mother and her equally cruel husband will get what they deserve out of this.

Bucky smiled and got up from the couch, offering you his hand to take.

“Alright then, pack your bags.” He spoke, pulling you up from the couch and pointing at your wardrobe before he walked away.

You thought he’d leave the room, but he just threw himself carelessly on your bed without any hesitation.

“Excuse me, do you mind?” you asked, clearly annoyed.

“Not at all.” He replied and stayed still.

“Bucky I need to get changed if I’m coming with you.” you spoke but he still didn’t move.

“So? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He added a wink at the end and you shook your head, turning around and swore under your breath.

“I heard that, babygirl.” He spoke again and you groaned out loud as you turned to pull out your suitcase and began packing.

Here we go again...

Now you’d have to deal with him for so many more days. And you knew from past experiences that whenever Bucky came up with risky plans like these; they always entailed trouble.

a/n: another mob story...

---

Tag List for this series (OPEN):

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nevtelenwriting · 4 years

Text

It’s a Date: Hotch/Foyet

Lots going on personally, I’ve not been in the best headspace, so I wanted to finish up this writing exercise to get my creativity going again with. There’s maybe a follow-up in the works 👀

Hotch/Foyet, threatening flirting and a deal Hotch can’t say no to.

Rating: T (M? IDK only thing mature is talking of murder and horny language)

It didn’t surprise him when, a week after his escape from prison, Hotch received a phone call. It was to his government cell, which made sense; he gave the number to George in case he needed to talk.

Looked like he needed to talk.

“Agent Hotchner.” Hotch answered automatically, used to unfamiliar numbers all the time.

The familiar sigh had the hairs rising on the back of his neck, though this time, Foyet didn’t bother affecting a voice. It still made his skin prickle, knowing the face to the name. "I want to make a deal."

It was a mimicry of that call in Boston, and Hotch had to grit his teeth to reply. "We've been over this, monsters like you don't get deals."

"You may want to listen to this one."

To match their pattern, Hotch hung up.

The next day, a letter with a Reaper's eye appeared in his mailbox, with pictures of three people Hotch didn’t know captured intimately close to their doorstep, their car, their bus stop. None looked any wiser to the man stalking them. Naturally he took the pictures to Garcia, and to local police, but they all came up dry.

Hotch waited for the phone call.

"What's the deal."

Foyet paused for a moment, probably surprised Hotch didn’t offer a greeting. He answered with, "Why the change in heart?"

"Don't bullshit, what's the deal."

"What if I told you it was Shaughnessy's?"

"I'd call you an idiot for trying it again.” Hotch didn’t bother mincing words. “I already alerted authorities to your targets."

Foyet’s laugh crackled the phone line. "Tell me if you find them. Look, there's no need to be so dramatic. I don't intend to do them any harm."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you."

"Then let's get back to that deal."

Hotch waited rather than answer. Foyet sighed.

"Man of so few words. The deal is, I don't touch a single hair on some inconsequential person's head. Not so long as you do something for me."

"I’m not going to stop hunting you.” Hotch said immediately, ready to end the call again if Foyet continued with this pointless game.

"That's not on the table anyway.” Foyet replied with apparent disinterest. “Actually I'm enjoying our game of cat and mouse. I'm sure you're asking now, who's the cat and who's the mouse?"

Hotch didn’t indulge, done with his strange game as he snapped, "What the hell do you want?"

"Temper temper agent. I just want some quality time with you."

"Quality time."

"What can I say, a man gets lonely, and you look spectacular in those dress pants, do you do squats?"

It took every ounce of Hotch’s will not to hang up again. He didn’t reply either.

"God that stick is wedged up far, how do you sit?"

Apparently Foyet had no intentions of actually offering a deal. This was an easy, effortless tactic to assert dominance and control, Hotch should have known better.

Hotch sighed through his nose, "If you're just here to yank my chain, then this phone call is over."

"What makes you think I'm yanking your chain?"

"Nothing in your profile says that you're gay."

"That's awfully narrow-minded of you, what's Jack gonna think if one day he has to come to you and tell you his girlfriend's actually a boy-"

"You're not gay Foyet."

"I'm genuinely hurt."

Hotch said nothing.

"Alright, you're right, I'm not. But you really think I'm only straight?"

Hotch chewed his tongue, hating that he knew that while Foyet was a sexual sadist, and usually showed preferences to women, it wasn’t always. "No."

"See? Was that so hard? You're a handsome man, Aaron, of course I think you're hot, you should work on that self-esteem."

Foyet really needed to stop fucking around, he didn’t have the time. Hotch was losing what little patience he’d mustered as he said, "What the hell are you getting at with this?"

"Have you traced my call yet?" Foyet asked conversationally, still in no mood to oblige.

Hotch was sure Foyet called him purposefully during work hours, not that it mattered. His cellphone had been tapped since the first call. Unfortunately that didn’t matter either; they had been on the call for over ten minutes but Garcia, prattling into his earpiece, kept expressing her frustrations over pinging cellphone lines in Brazil, Bolivia, several other countries south but none near DC. Foyet was a computer technologist, it isn't a surprise. The fact Garcia was listening to this while she worked—the groans and muttered statements of “gross” filling his earpiece beyond her non-cursing—was knowledge Hotch decided to willfully ignore.

"Get to a damn point."

Foyet sighed again, and Hotch could almost see the head shake. "We need to work on your foreplay."

Hotch was convinced now. He had a stroke, that or contracted malaria; either way he had started hallucinating the world's worst nightmare in his death throes.

"You won't kill anyone... If I let you. Stare at my ass?"

"Oh, Hotchner. More than stare."

Hotch was glad he was on the phone, because even that made his eyes widen. "You're not serious."

"I'm dead serious."

"You want me to prostitute myself to you."

"That's loaded sentence. Especially since I'm not paying you. Think of it as more, vigorous arch enemy fucking that makes me forget how much I wanna hurt you."

"The answer is no."

"Then someone dies. Maybe it's one of those three, maybe someone else. Shit, maybe your wife. I can find her, you know that."

Rather than feel horror at that, or try to convince Foyet not to and waste his breath, Hotch muttered, "Maybe you like men, but I don't."

Foyet scoffed into the phone. "Don't lie to me. I remember how you were. You flirted with me back then."

Hotch felt sick. He felt sicker still knowing that Foyet was right. In another world, another place, when Foyet had just been George, he wouldn't have turned him down.

Foyet’s voice dropped low then. "I know you've thought about it, Aaron. How I might taste. What I'd look like on my knees. I know I have. You sound so good, I bet you're divine when you moan. Remember when I came home from the hospital? God, if you weren't so good and faithful to your wife, we would have done wicked things that night.”

Hotch did remember. Foyet—George—had been unsteady on his feet, fell into Hotch and he had stared at him for too long. The heat emanating from his body where they pressed, lithe muscle under his palms coupled with the cool brush of George's breath on his cheek, the hand on Hotch's jaw had been nearly enough to make him break his vows.

"Come on, what's the harm? You get to keep hunting me, you're guaranteed that as long as we keep this up, I won't go after anyone. No strings attached, just a good clean fuck."

Hotch chewed his cheek, curbing down the heat coiling in his cut at the sound of his low voice purring that into his ear. He couldn’t bring himself to answer, knowing the words would come out strangled.

"I'll give you a day to think about it. And so that you can answer with a few less prying ears."

Foyet hangs up. Hotch's head is on the desk by the time Garcia clears her throat and meekly says she wasn't able to trace the call.

It took a week before Foyet called back. He did so on his personal cell this time, which Hotch had asked not to be traced. When the familiar number popped up, Hotch answered with, "I suppose it's too much to ask that this is a one-time deal."

"…Hello to you too."

Hotch sighed, and Foyet hummed.

"Alright, to business. Think of this as more of a resetting of a countdown clock. The closer I get to zero the closer I get to that itch that just can't be scratched, and this strange desire to fuck you will be overridden by the need to well, kill. But if you keep me satisfied, you will reset that clock. Won't reach zero as long as we keep our deal."

It made sense. It was mostly clean, though Hotch had no reason to believe Foyet would keep his end of the deal beyond knowing Foyet genuinely enjoying a man’s suffering had been enough in the past. This wasn’t like Shaughnessy though, god knows this wasn’t like Shaughnessy. Was his unwillingness and distaste for this truly enough? Knowing he had gotten Hotch to agree? There were other options, ones less out of left field and ones more likely to get a yes from him. Why this, why…

Hotch didn’t know why he asked it, other than trying to find something grounding in what felt only like a cruel dream not yet tumbling towards nightmare.

"Why me?"

Foyet was quiet for a long time, and then, "Why not you?"

Hotch sighed, "No."

"No?" Foyet reiterated, an edge to it that sounded like threat. Hotch didn’t care.

"You heard me. No, I get one real answer from you, then—"

Hotch caught himself too late. Hotch could hear the smile. "Then what?"

There was so many other things Hotch might have said yes to. There were so many reasons why Hotch should say no. There was no way in hell Hotch could tell him yes.

His voice almost faltered on his reply. Hotch barely heard himself when he said it. "Then I'll take the deal."

Foyet chuckled, low against his ear, close enough to shudder through his chest and prickle his skin. "Of all the things to ask me. Are you sure you want it to be 'why you'?"

Hotch could ask a thousand questions. Why he chose to kill, why he played these games. The thing was, Hotch already knew. He knew Foyet lashed out because hurting others was a release after he had been so violently abused. Hotch knew he got off on power and control because he had his own stripped away. Hotch knew his sadism grew when he was a child left to his own devices, cruelty made into a language of love that twisted and warped him into this man they hunted today. Hotch knew all of that. He didn't understand why this.

There were so many games he could play with Hotch, plenty that would invoke the same level of suffering. Foyet could have ambushed and tortured him, even raped him if his end goal was purely carnal. He didn't. If Foyet intended on killing him after their sex—he doubted it, it shortened his suffering—he'd end the long game by getting arrested. If the unwillingness was the goal, then why taunt Hotch with the memory he had been attracted to him? There was a mind game to this Hotch couldn't piece together, some level of interest and infatuation with Hotch himself he didn't understand.

“Yes. Why me. Why bother with this?”

Foyet sighed audibly, almost a groan. "Really, agent? Because you get me hard. You make me feel like a little schoolboy that can't keep himself from pulling your pigtails. Because it’s a little difficult getting your dick wet on the run. So please oh please won't you go to the dance with me?"

As much as Foyet attempted to make the reply as repulsive as possible, Hotch's brows shot up to his hairline. Infatuation he anticipated, but the deflection spoke more of...of an obsession with Hotch himself. Hotch wondered in that moment, just how much control Foyet had over this desire himself. Hotch cleared his throat.

"If you bring a knife into the bedroom I will shoot you."

"Kinky. It's a date."

“So when should I expect you?” Hotch asked, and then added dryly, “Should I bring a corsage?”

Foyet barked out his laugh, “I’ll call you, how’s that? And just so we’re clear. You know what happens if you try to use this to catch me.”

With that Foyet hung up, with no time, place, or expectation of when this would begin.

Fuck. Fuck. What had Hotch gotten himself into?

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #george foyet #fedreaper #hotchfoyet #My writing #my fic #idek man #come stab me daddy

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weightlessau · 4 years

Text

adorable and soft [ateez; jongho]

Warnings: mentions of guns and a few curse words

part two of cute and squishy

summary: the weekly meet up didn’t go quite as you expected (well, maybe you did expect it a little bit)

requested (yay!!), it’s maybe a little more actioney than they wanted but i swear it’s fluffy!

Unfortunately that date Jongho mentioned never panned out. Just after lunch Sunhi and you only had a few minutes to exchange numbers before the whole group made their way home again, because of a 'sudden emergency'. Days after them you went home as well.

Sunhi and you are practically best friends at this point, even if she does keep quite a few secrets from you. Like why there's always one of the other men shadowing behind her when you meet up or where all her money comes from, but you never press on for more information. You're smart enough to guess that whatever her and her group is involved in, you probably don't want to be a part of that.

Today is one of those meet ups Sunhi and you have at least once a week.

'What should we do today?' Sunhi texts you in the morning to which you already have an answer to.

'There's this bar that I've wanted to check out. Do you want to go tonight?'

'Sure! I'll come pick you up at 8'

'Who are you coming with today?' you ask her. You secretly hope that it's Jongho, even though you're still embarrassed that you called him 'squishy', you have to admit that he is quite cute. After some contemplation you have also decided that a date with him may not be a bad idea, but you don't want to be the one to contact him. You're still unsure of his motives, if he really asked you out on a date or if he just said that to fluster you. He didn't have the chance to ask you again. Apparently he's 'out of the city for work'. You didn't want to know what kind of 'work' considering the answer you got after you called Jongho cute. A thinly veiled death threat.

A couple minutes later, Sunhi gives you an answer to your previous question and you think that maybe luck is on your side, 'Joong said that Jongho is free today ;)'

'Stop with the winking,' you whine over text. Of course everyone noticed the conversation Jongho and you had at the lunch table and Sunhi teases you constantly because of that. You're not alone in your suffering, though; you heard that Jongho is only referred to as 'squishy' by the other men.

';)))))' she sends you back and ends the conversation.

At exactly eight o'clock that night a black car pulls up in front of your home. Although you can't see who is sitting inside the car due to the darkened windows, you can be sure that Sunhi and Jongho are waiting for you.

Before you reach the car, Jongho has already hopped out and swung open the backdoor for you.

"My lady," he greets you.

"Thank you, Jongho." He closes the door when you're seated inside and gets into the driver's seat.

"You're still calling me Jongho?" he asks cheekily from the front while Sunhi just laughs at your flustered face.

"That's your name, isn't it?" you say with a smile and a roll of your eyes. He's still flirting with you, maybe you'll have a date by the end of the night, you hope.

Before Jongho can continue your little banter, Sunhi cuts in and you two start a conversation, completely ignoring Jongho at the the front.

When the three of you get into the bar Sunhi and you immediately sit down at a table and order some drinks for you and of course food. Jongho sits down a few tables down, body turned towards your table to see when you're potentially in danger.

Minutes of laughter turn into hours and soon Sunhi and you just slur the whole talk and lean on the table between you heavily while Jongho laughs at you behind his third meal (he has to pass the time sober somehow and what better way than trying the whole menu one by one?). The laugh is wiped off of his face when he sees a man approaching your table and striking up a conversation. He doesn't intervene in any way, before Sunhi or you show any signs of discomfort. But that thought is thrown out when three more men join that Jongho knows closely.

"Aren't you Hongjoong's little bitch?" Jongho hears as he quickly sends a message to his leader and makes his way to your table.

'Rival gang at bar'

'At least four of them'

'Need backup'

Jongho just presses send on his messages and doesn't wait for an answer. He has to get you two out of here before the situation escalades and innocent people get injured.

Turns out that won't be as easy as planned.

"Well if that isn't Choi Jongho." The man nudges a friend standing next to him.

Jongho swallows the insults that are crawling up to his mouth and instead says, "I don't want any stress here, so just leave it." Quietly he adds a quick, "you bastards" as he tries to usher a drunk you and an equally drunk Sunhi out of the bar. Thankfully the bill was already paid when you ordered.

"What did you just say?" A gun is whipped out and the customers of the bar start screaming the second they notice what is happening.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath.

Now the other men have also drawn their guns, pointing them all towards your group. No one says a word now, the whole bar has fallen quiet out of fear. Even you can feel yourself sobering up.

The doors to the bar slam open and Hongjoong marches in, with his gun drawn, closely followed by Wooyoung and San.

"Drop your fucking guns or you'll be in big trouble," Hongjoong threatens, "you're in our territory right now. You don't want me to contact your leader, do you?" He keeps his voice controlled and low, almost like he's having the most boring conversation, making him seem even more threatening.

Your blurry eyes see one of the rival gang's men raise his gun slightly, but before he can go any further a gun shot echoes through the bar before the customers scream out. The man drops down to his knees and clutches his left thigh where blood is oozing out.

"Wooyoung!" Jongho shouts out to the shooter.

"What?" Wooyoung shrugs, "he was about to do something."

The rival's grab the armpits of the injured member and drag him to the exit, where Hongjoong, San and Wooyoung are standing.

"This isn't over," the injured one spits at Hongjoong as they pass him and flee.

Hongjoong lets out a sigh while he looks around at the terrified faces meeting him, including yours. He walks over to his wife and throws his arm over her shoulder, hugging her intoxicated form to him.

"We'll go home now," he announces to the boys. "Jongho, you take [y/n] home." You see the small smirk decorating his face.

"Okay," Jongho agrees and ushers you towards the exit.

As you pass, you could swear that you heard San snicker and say, "good night, squishy."

Outside you are greeted by the biting cold, washing away your drunkenness, when you hurry towards the car.

The car ride is quiet with you trying to process what just happened. But you weren't all that surprised. After all, you expected them to be a part of shady business and that just got confirmed.

"Can you stop when you see a convenience store?" You break the tense silence.

"What would you need at this time?" Jongho asks, confused as he glances over to you shortly.

"I want to drink some more. I can't deal with this shit semi-sober right now. Either I'm completely sober or completely smashed, or I'll go crazy tonight," you explain your sudden plan to him and coincidentally a 24/7 open store appears on the side of the road, making Jongho pull over and park the car.

A few cups of beer and soju later, you're slurring again, leaning against Jongho's broad frame. Your drunken state lets you let loose a little bit. Or more than a little. You even go as far as hugging him, pressing your cheek onto his chest and squeezing him tightly.

"You're so squishy." There's nothing in you that thinks talking to Jongho is a bad thing right now. You drowned all those thoughts with alcohol.

"So soft," you slur and snuggle closer, closing your eyes in bliss.

"Alright, [y/n], I think it's time for you to go home," Jongho laughs and tries to peel you off carefully, but you only tighten your grip and pout up at him, with your chin propped onto his chest.

"No," you look into his eyes firmly to refuse and then press your cheek onto his chest again, closing your eyes.

You feel the rumble of Jongho's laugh vibrating his chest and then feel strong arms embracing you.

"Step on my feet," Jongho tells you and you follow his order, stepping your right foot onto his left and your left onto his right, still clinging onto him but this time with him securing you onto his body as he walks you two to the car. He helps you into your seat and your head immediately lulls to the side, half asleep, as Jongho reaches over you and puts on your belt for you. Before he can duck out of the car to get into the drivers seat, you grab his arm and look up at him with your eyes as pleading as possible.

"I want a good dream," you mumble.

"And why are you telling me that?"

"I want you to-," you pause, "I don't know. I forgot." You cross your arms over your chest and pout again as you look straight ahead, facing away from the still hunched Jongho as if it's his fault that you forgot.

Jongho doesn't try to make you remember and just closes the door and gets in on the other side.

A few minutes of driving pass when suddenly you scream out, "squishy!" making Jongho swerve the wheel.

"That's what I forgot!"

"What the hell, [y/n]!" he slightly raises his voice out of panic. "What does that even have to do with a good dream?"

You shrug, happy that you now know what you forgot, "I don't know."

Jongho has to resist rubbing his face in frustration, a defeated smile taking over his lips. "How about we're quiet the rest of the ride, [y/n]?" Jongho phrases it like a question, but doesn't want an answer from you, which he doesn't get.

You just stare at his side profile for the rest of the ride, admiring his features and his cute little smile. A dreamy smile graces your face as you prop your elbow onto the armrest and your chin onto your hand.

"You're really pretty," you whisper, not even realizing that you're talking. Jongho doesn't show any more reaction than his smile broadening slightly, the action pushing his cheeks up and making them appear more full.

"So soft." As if in a trance, you reach out towards his hypnotizing cheek and quickly grab it between your fingers before Jongho can even react in any way.

"Ow! [y/n]!" he warns you, "let go of my cheek!"

You laugh loudly, "no."

A sigh leaves him and he gives up, trying to rip his face away from your grasp while driving.

Thankfully you arrive just a few minutes later. Jongho helps you walk into your home. Already having a routine for when you come home drunk, you lead him to your kitchen and sit down on the counter.

"I'm thirsty," you slur out, looking at Jongho with half opened eyes.

When he hands you your glass of water after opening every possible drawer and cupboard, you sulk, "and hungry."

A slice of bread and two more glasses of water later, you get ready for bed and Jongho tucks you in for the night. He can't get off the bed though, because you have his arm cuddled against your chest.

"Stay," you hum and pull his arm further to you, making him stumble onto the bed completely, landing beside you. You let go of his arm then and open your arms, "come here, squishy," you pet your chest, "let me cuddle you."

Having given up resisting the drunk you, he lays his head onto your chest and lets you squeeze him, "why do you only call me squishy when you're drunk?" he teases you. There is no point in him feeling embarrassed when he's actually feeling very comfortable in this position, pulling you to him as well.

"Do you not want to be my squishy?"

"Only if you go on a date with me."

"Ask me in the morning."

And with that Jongho can feel you tight grip on him softening. He stays lying next to you until the next morning when he asks you the question properly this time.

"Do you want to go out on a date with me?"

bonus

You accept.

Even though you're together, you still only call him 'squishy' when you're drunk, but he gets reminded of the nickname often enough by his friends.

p.s. thank you so much for 100 followers 🥰

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sad-af1121 · 5 years

Text

It’s You: Part 1

Summary: In which your date doesn’t go well and you meet a stranger who makes you forget all about it with his witty charm. But no numbers or names are exchanged between you two, leaving you both hopeless yet love crazed, never to find one another. Or so you think. Modern AU | Requested by Anon | Pairings: Bucky Barnes x CurlyHaired! Reader Word Count: 3k Warnings: language, sexual remarks, full-on fluff and comedy

A/N: This story actually happened to a close friend of mine and I couldn’t get over how cute it was bc now they’re married! | Thanking @isaxhorror for giving this a look through! Feedback is welcomed 💜

“Fucking jerk,” you annoyingly muttered under your breath, marching out of the posh restaurant where you left your asshole of a date behind.

Something about tonight gave you hope that you’d have a nice time out, however, your gut instinct was totally off. Not only was your Tinder date an hour late to dinner, but was disgustingly taken aback by the way you looked, pressing that you didn’t look the same as you did in your profile picture. The only difference was your hair for crying out loud!

Naturally, you had bouncy, long voluminous curls and sometimes, you liked to straighten them for a new look. Unfortunately, your date didn’t like that fact and claimed you had scammed him into a date. The rage that boiled deep inside you was the least of his worries because when he asked if the curtain matches the drapes down under, you happily splashed a cold glass of water into his face, before gracefully walking out of the room with your middle finger in the air.

A mischievous grin twitched at the corners of your lips as you recalled what happened a few minutes ago and you couldn't help but giggle. Now, that part was pretty amusing and you had to give yourself credit for that.

“Glad to see someone’s having a better night than I am.”

A deep, gravelly voice that was smooth and soft like a harmony of angels lured you back into reality, causing you to turn your attention towards the source. There stood a tall, well-built man whose features were crafted by the goddess of beauty herself. His ice blue orbs captivated every one of your senses, causing a hitch in your breath. Your own eyes scanned his, searching for his intentions, but they were soft, holding a kindness that was rare nowadays.

“I’m sorry?” you tilted your head, smirking and shaking away the trance-like state you were in. This time, you watched his lips curl into a lop-sided grin while he took a moment to timidly look to the ground then back to your eyes as a lock of his chestnut brown hair fell in front of his face.

“I enjoyed what you did back there, almost choked on my drink. But the guy deserved it though,” He chuckled, allowing his tongue to glide over his lips, and what lips he had.

Again, you felt the air vanish from your lungs, making it even harder to respond to the godly handsome man before you. Heat rose to your cheeks and you decided to giggle, a response from a mixture of anxiety and nervousness.

“Uh, yeah he did. Basically called my curls wild so,” you instinctively twirled a piece of your hair around your finger before letting it fall on your shoulder. The man scoffed, pushing his hair back as he looked up into the night sky.

“Unbelievable,” he breathed, bringing his gaze back to you. “Clearly he doesn’t see how beautiful they are.” His sweet, honey-suckled tone made your knees weak and you felt your heart thud a little faster as it swelled, the heat rising back to your face.

You scanned him once more, squinting amusingly to see what game he was playing. “Thank you, but what makes you say that?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you cocked your head to the side.

“Well,” he trailed off, ”for starters, they’re natural. I mean c’mon, some girls would die for those curls. Just end up burning their fingers when they try with a curler.” He snorted, causing you to laugh with him. Your laughter alone made the man grin a little wider, the beautiful sound stringing at his heart like a melodious tune.

“You’ve got a point,” you agreed, mentally walking down memory lane since you have had women would come up to you to either touch your hair or ask what ethnicity you were. It was flattering from time to time, but not all the time, “But what else makes them beautiful?”

“They always smell good and I mean better than girls with straight hair. Guessin’ it’s the products you gotta put in your curls to stay that bouncy and full. Oh, and my third reasoning is,“ he mocked, grinning because, at this point, he was pulling your leg and somehow knew you were going to ask to tell you more, “Because they’re just sexy. Girls who aren’t afraid of their curls show confidence, and you, doll, are radiating with it.”

Your mouth silently dropped then morphed into a smile because he was right, his sudden urge of confidence surprising you. Most men would say sexual innuendos regarding your curls but not him.

“W-wow, thanks,” was all you could say to that, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear when the night breeze decided to make its presence, welcoming itself inside your hair and bringing it to life. And if it wasn’t for your hair flowing in every direction, you’d be struggling to put together letters to form words, then sentences; a constant battle you figured you were having whilst in the presence of this man. What could you possibly say after that? You knew your head was in the right place, but your body acted on its own accord and it left you wondering why. Why was a stranger like him having this effect on you?

There was something in the way he carried himself and you couldn’t put your finger on it. You found his energy to be addicting, longing for more and not in a sexual sense. It was more so in drowning in his presence and him overall. You couldn’t recall a time where someone made you feel this vulnerable yet awoke like he did.

“Jeez, where are my manners… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was not my intention.” His brows furrowed while he smiled apologetically, placing a hand on his chest.

You were yet again, pulled out from your thoughts, instantly shake your head to his words, “Oh no! It’s okay, I really appreciate the compliment. Makes me feel better about this thing,” you blew out a laugh, touching your curls. The man laughed with you, nodding as he understood. Hearing his laughter brought a brighter smile across your face and it made you bite your lip in content.

“Well, I should be going, it’s getting kinda late. ‘N you should get home safely too, Miss. It was nice talkin’ to ya.”

“Miss?” What happened to “doll”?

Before you could get a chance to ask for his name or number, he was already walking away from you and you wanted to beat yourself for not opening your mouth sooner. Shouting after him would make things awkward, plus you were standing in the middle of a sidewalk and didn’t want to expose any personal information publicly anyhow.

Pouting, you hailed a cab and looked back to see if the odd man would meet your eyes but luck wasn’t on your side because he was gone. Maybe your gut was right after all because you wanted to see that man again. Even if that meant going on another horrible date, just to see if he’s there to whisk you away like he did tonight.

***

“You said what now?”

“Ugh! Sam, you’re not making this any easier on me! I think I scared her away.” Bucky groaned, grabbing the couch cushion and burying his face in it. Ever since he came back from the bar, he couldn’t get you off of his mind and it was driving him crazy. The only way he could have some mental relief was if he shared the story with his roommates but he may be regretting it.

“Nah, man. I’m trying to understand how you weren’t able to get her name or phone number when you were flirting with her. You were on a roll too!” Sam threw his hands in the air as he got up from his seat. Steve, on the other hand, wasn’t judging Bucky as much as Sam was.

“Look, see if you can get her number or name from the lady at the reservation desk. Just say you found her glasses or something and would love to give it back.” Steve suggested, placing a hand on his friend’s knee.

“That ain’t gonna work, man! You see how fancy that place is; they’re not gonna give out information like that to just anyone.” Sam clarified, shooting down Bucky’s chance to ever find you.

“She probably thinks I’ve got some weird hair kink or somethin’. Ugh, why does this happen to me!” Bucky whined, shoving his face deep into the pillow. His friends exchange looks before sighing in unison.

“I mean you do man-”

“I think what Sam and I are trying to say is that you’re just overthinking about this, Buck. From what you told me, she sounded like she was having a better time with you than she was with her date.” Steve acknowledged. “We can ask Stark to call the restaurant and get her number that way if you’d like?”

Bucky sighed, removing the pillow from his face and tossing it to the side, his shoulders slumped with defeat. “No, it’s enough that we work for his dad. The least amount of favors we ask him, the less we owe him things, aka paperwork.” He dreaded, before rubbing away the exhaustion from his eyes. It’s been a year since Bucky’s dated anyone and it’s like his mind and body forgot what it was like.

Tonight was the first of what he thought would be many dates yet the girl never showed up, prompting Bucky to have a couple drinks at the bar. If he hadn’t turned around from his seat, then Bucky would have never seen you walk in. The room itself became empty, vacant of any soul other than his and yours. It was the most breathtaking view he had ever come across. Describing it was difficult but the closest comparison Bucky thought of was the moment the sun settled along the waters, painting the sky in colors of purples and oranges. So vibrant and alive that it leaves you frozen in time, never wanting the moment to end.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t for one to believe in love at first sight, yet there he was, picturing his entire life with you, a mere stranger. Perhaps the art of love was recognizing a soul loved in a past life and falling in love with them again.

***

Staring out the window of your apartment, you nursed a mug of coffee, the warmth and aroma comforting your senses. Events from earlier rewind in your head, each time breaking a smile across your face. It felt like a dream, or a scene from a movie because you couldn’t believe how perfect it was, how he was.

But each time you’ve thought about the man, it brought sadness too. If only you could go back in time and ask for his name, that’s all you would have needed, because at least he would have known yours.

“What’s with the frown, Y/N?” Wanda asked, pushing back your damp hair as she tried to read your face.

Jerking just slightly, you turn away from the window to see your friends standing around you. Their expressions filled with worry and amusement but quickly diminishes when you huffed out a laugh. “When did you guys get back?”

“Just now,” Clint said, kicking off his shoes and throwing his body onto the couch before groaning in satisfaction. “I’ve been aching to get home and relax my feet. Thanks to these two, I had another workout carrying their bags.”

“Is that a complaint I hear, Clint?” Nat raised a brow with a smirk and looked over at Wanda who eagerly smiled with the red-head.

“Ah, fuck!” Clint groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I hate your stupid betting games,” he mumbled.

“If they’re so stupid, why do you play with us?” Wanda added, crossing her arms.

“Because he’s the one who starts them,” you snorted and walked away from the window, throwing a balled-up piece of paper at Clint’s head.

“Are we gonna ignore the fact that she was frowning?” Clint brought up, shielding his head from possibly another assault but soon realizing there wasn’t going to be one.

“Yes, for now,” Nat assured, “You owe me 50 bucks aaand I get to pick out a movie for Sunday too.”

“That wasn’t part of the bet!”

As the two bickered on, Wanda gently tapped your shoulder, scooting closer from her spot on the couch. “Why were you frowning earlier? Was the date bad?”

You chuckled, nodding “Yeah. An hour late, cocky attitude and piss poor manners. But I got to splash water on his face before I left so... I'm happy.”

“Oh my god, you did good! He deserved way more than water, but good!” Wanda giggled, linking her arm with yours.

“Yeah. But then I met this guy outside the restaurant,” you smiled brightly, “A total hottie and he had manners! He saw what happened and I guess he came to check up on me when I left. Or maybe he was already there and I hadn’t noticed…” you trailed off with uncertainty, overthinking about your encounter with the man.

“Did you get lost in your thoughts like you usually do?” Wanda smiled, her eagerness to hear more about the mystery man bottling inside her.

Sighing, you lean your back against the cushions, “I suppose I did, but when I told him my awful date made crude remarks about my curls, he said they were beautiful. And said I wear my curls with confidence and he could see that. Said it was sexy.”

Natasha, Clint, and Wanda could see the smile growing back on your face, the three eyeing in curiosity which left the room quiet. You hadn’t noticed your cheeks changed in color, the blood flooding your skin.

“Y/N,” Natasha said softly, rounding the coffee table to sit in front of you while Clint sat up, keeping his eyes on your expression. “Are you in loooove?” She teased, poking your stomach.

“What!” you blinked, dread flooding your every sense as you smacked her hands away.

“You sure, Nat? She gives that same look when she sees miniature cakes,” Clint snorted before yelping in pain by your smack to his arm. “I was only kidding, Jesus Christ.”

“Come on, Y/N. Are you crushing hard on this mystery man? Please tell us more,” she requested with joy bubbling inside her.

Placed in an awkward position you scoffed, “N-no! I don’t even know the guy, let alone know his name! How could I be in love? You guys are insane.” It was a mixture of embarrassment and guilt. You weren’t exactly sure if you were in love or fond of the man’s simple affection towards you. But then again, you’d give and do anything to see him once more. Around him, you felt like you were on top of the world, soaring through the skies, that nothing else mattered except you and him.

Getting up from the couch, you stomped your way into the kitchen, placing your mug into the sink to avoid any more of their pestering questions and assumptions. However, that didn't stop Clint from chasing after you, a smirk lacing his mischievous features.

“Hey, we’re not judgin’ ya if you have a crush. It’s just kind of weird, ya know? We don’t usually see you like this.”

He had a point. You weren’t the kind to fall so easily for someone you just met. Nevertheless, you had your reasons why this man felt different than any other person you came across.

Maybe I’m thinking too much into this.

“Besides that point! Don’t forget you have another date tomorrow,” Clint added as you turned to look at him with furrowed brows and confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

“When you couldn’t get Wanda to say ‘moist’ within 24 hours, remember the bet?” He reminded with a sigh, wondering how you’re able to keep up with your busy work schedule but not remember small things like this.

Taking a minute to collect your thoughts, you remembered exactly what he was referring to, groaning in frustration that you forgot about the stupid wager. Clint had owed a friend from work so you had to go on a date with that friend’s friend. As complicated as it sounded, you had to hold up your end.

“Ugh, fine yes. I remember. When is it again?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, wanting this night to be over already.

“Tomorrow night, missy.”

“Ew, a blind date set up by Clint; what could go wrong?” Nat snickered, high fiving with Wanda who also couldn’t stop herself from laughing.

“Please, after this date, no more. I’m quite capable of finding people to mingle with on my own,” you stressed.

“Fine, fair enough. I’ll drive you there.” Clint stated, pulling out his phone to look at his calendar.

With that, you left the kitchen and went straight to your room to finally relax your body and mind. Today was draining enough and now, you couldn’t get rid of your nerves for tomorrow. You hated blind dates but you had to woman up and just do the thing, whether or not you wanted to. As you stepped out from your robe and changed into a t-shirt and shorts, you heard your phone chime on your bed. Adjusting your waistband, you stepped closer to your phone screen to get a better look, squinting at the brightly lit screen.

Clint: “Btw, his name is James ;) ”

PART 2

___________

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gascon-en-exil · 4 years

Text

Mercilessly Judging the Men of Fòdlan: The Kingdom

It’s been a long time coming, over eight months in fact, but now that it may be assumed that the last of the DLC has been released and the fandom as a whole has settled comfortably into its various camps I think there’s no better time than now to answer that burning question: how raunchily, outrageously gay can the male cast of Three Houses possibly be? For those unfamiliar with this fun little series of mine, I’ve been applying my extensive knowledge and experience of gay male sex and hookup culture to the men of Fire Emblem, originally as a way of reckoning with the refusal of the games themselves to provide me with any worthwhile self-insert M/M content. I stand by that premise for FE16 - you all know how absolutely nothing appeals to me about m!Byleth or his prospects on that score - but in the years since my first outing of merciless judgment with Awakening that idea has expanded into something broader, an imaginative modern AU of sorts where all these guys are into men (if not always exclusively) and willing to put themselves out there in the lewd and semi-anonymous world of hookup apps in search of their preferred carnal delights.

A note on organization before we begin, as this material is too long to cram into one post. Excluding Byleth (as Avatars and their spawn always are for this project) there are twenty-one playable male characters in Three Houses. This makes for an even threeway division to preserve the eponymous conceit of the game, but not a particularly neat one. Aligned with the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus I therefore have below the male Lions, Kingdom knight and Azure Moon-exclusive Gilbert, and Faerghus-based underworld kingpin Yuri. As with all things concerning M/M outside of Byleth and his awkward S rank monologues, the Lions have it the most clear-cut.

The Empire

The Alliance

Dimitri

It’s rare that you can get a feeling for someone’s whole life story entirely from watching their presence in hookup spaces over time, but he’s an exception. Once a sweet, wide-eyed collegiate who looked eager to get dicked down by any reasonably polite and attractive top/vers, hard years have turned him grim and sad and just barely put together enough to be presentable for a clothed face pic, much less anything more revealing...and still eager to get dicked down. He’s been dealing with a lot lately, and even though he’s still game for a quickie from time to time (especially with muscle guys, a shallow weakness of his he’d blush to admit to out loud) a single roll in the sheets isn’t going to make him emotionally available. Apparently he’s already well-covered on that front as it is; with his charisma and open-minded way of looking at the world he’s made many friends and fuck buddies and companions who seem half like boyfriends and half like something indescribably beyond that, and a new trick would be hard-pressed to compete with that and likely wouldn’t want to if it means engaging with his demons. Still an enviable hookup partner though, with a full pert ass and a whole assortment of friends who love to play with him and anyone else who lands an invitation to his bed. His cock has left many a bottom drooling, but unfortunately he’s haunted by the memory of the time when he went too hard and nearly caused a medical emergency. Now he just takes it and doesn’t even let anyone ride him, but there are just as many men who aren’t complaining about that in the slightest. Has a very high chance of winding up in a tender and fulfilling poly marriage that’s still open on all sides - he’s got a lot of hot, sweaty love to give.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: body worship, muscle bears, group sex

Favored gift: a body pillow, on the infrequent occasions where he has to sleep alone with no one to cuddle

Dedue

One of those shy larger men who will never initiate conversation, because he’s been blown off one too many times for shallow reasons and isn’t expecting that to ever change. It doesn’t bother him greatly though, because as his profile states he’s in a relationship and he and his partner only play together so unless you’re only looking for friends - not impossible, as he’s got quite the array of engaging hobbies on display in his pics - you’ll have to accept that this bear has a cub...or something like that anyway. Bad at small talk and even a little embarrassed to talk about his expertise in the kitchen or the garden, it’s a completely different story when the lights are off where he’ll give cocky power bottoms and scoffing total tops exactly what they deserve. Sub bottoms on the other hand bring out his softer, cuddly side, and he’s more likely to be using his considerable weight to lovingly press them into the mattress as he opens them up with his tongue and eventually his dick. Is utterly devoted to his partner but enjoys watching him playing around with third parties, even if he’s almost never allowed to sit on the sidelines for the entire night. To the shock of everyone he’s actually a total vers, even if he leaves most tops stammering excuses and bending over for him anyway. He’s usually polite enough to stick to oral in those cases. He’ll never be the most sociable man, but he’s a real catch regardless in every other aspect and is no doubt looking forward to his inevitable wedding and only sometimes X-rated married life. Still fondly recalls the first time someone introduced him to the idea of sex while cooking, and now he takes it as a challenge (only when he’s cooking just for himself and his sexual partners, of course; he doesn’t want to be unsanitary).

Favored erotic tea time subjects: twunks, voyeurism, cum swapping

Favored gift: a chef’s apron short enough to let his junk hang free

Felix

Has a biting retort for every unsolicited nude and “looking?” ever sent to him, and he gets a lot of both when his pic is just enticing enough and his profile is full of enough acerbic wit to provoke the kinds of guys who actually read those things. Claims he’s vers, gets pissed whenever anyone tells him that’s just code for bottom, gets even more pissed after hookups when his partner points out that that’s totally true in his case. Prefers oral to conversation, both giving and getting, and he’s got a remarkable talent for handjobs that surprisingly doesn’t seem to be born from excessive masturbation. Not so great with fetishes - he punched the first guy to pull his hair while he was giving head, and passes made at him during his workouts leave him more annoyed at the interruption than aroused. Disarmed by anything too soft and cutesy so he’s not great with fems, but it’s unclear if this has anything to do with his lingering daddy issues that he’s not working out in the bedroom because they’re (probably) not like that. Not sentimental at all, but he’s probably got that one longtime slow burn affair he doesn’t bring up with his tricks. If anything ever comes of that he’ll vanish immediately from the app space, but until then he’s up for a 69 followed by a good long pounding - much longer than you’d expect from someone of his frame. Good thing too, because he loves making his partners cut loose and give it to him raw and hard.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: “straight” guys, dildos, pig sluts

Favored gift: high-quality lube. and lots of it

Ashe

Everyone’s BFF, sweet and affable and able to bounce from friend group to friend group even without always having to take his clothes off. Usually finds himself as the token twink surrounded by men who are very much not that, because they value his friendship and reliability (and also his ass, as expected). Did not have the best home life and has probably had to do a few shady things to get by, but with all that mostly behind him anyone would be happy to date him or even just to take a walk with him, as he’s quite outdoorsy when he’s not taking care of relatives or less responsible friends. A bottom by expectation because there’s not much else one can infer when he shows up to bars and house parties alike in the company of guys twice his size who aren’t shy about being casually handsy with him. Still, has learned to be quite deft when the need arises and knows how to stimulate on multiple fronts, whether for one partner or several. His weakness for muscles is genuine too, and he loves a firm chest as much as taking some guy’s thick meat. Paradoxically doesn’t have a lot of patience for dumb jocks, but since he knows just about everyone worth knowing (and sleeping with) in his area and works the freckled fresh-faced young cutie angle with an artlessness that surprises some of his less gifted peers he’s bound to wind up in a comfortable relationship of some kind or another. Prefers to have sex with the lights on, and if given the option will cuddle for a long time afterward to avoid turning them off. His ass has freckles too, but he rolls his eyes when he gets asked that.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: gym sex, spit roasting, breaking in new bottoms

Favored gift: a sensible jockstrap, for workouts and for dates

Sylvain

Everyone you know has slept with him, but almost never more than once. You might have even met him in person long before you encounter his minimalist profile with its headless abs pic hitting you up with a shot of his erection measured against a beer can followed by an address. Gets a lot of action on that pic alone, but repeats are few and far between when he pulls out his phone right after pulling out of his guy of the hour and starts browsing through what’s on offer again and slow jerking. Not a big fan of FWBs met through hookups since he always feels like they’re being too clingy even if they just happened to get horny for him again a few weeks later. Does not like to talk, especially about his family, and he almost never extends an invitation to spend the night. Still, as callous as he is that cock is impressive and he knows how to put it to work. Good with his mouth too, and true to his cultivated total top persona he’d sooner rim than blow. He’s also successful and likeable enough in his personal life to have buddies who’ll play around with him, and he might even have some kind of nebulous long term thing going with one or two of them that they strictly don’t discuss. Bottoms only as a challenge, but he’s not great at it and doesn’t have the stamina to last very long while riding. Is on PreP and uses condoms religiously so he’s got that going for him, but testing after sex with him is still recommended because there’s really no telling how many other holes he’s filled that week. Likes twinks and twunks, but loudly refuses to ever be a sugar daddy no matter how desperate he might get in his later years assuming he doesn’t die of untreated syphilis or something equally appropriate and ridiculous.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: marathon fucking, double penetration, open relationships

Favored gift: a fleshlight molded into the shape of his favorite fuck buddy’s hole, for sentimentality

Gilbert

His pics are neither very current nor very flattering, and he doesn’t excel at small talk although he’s evidently been around long enough to know how to get an open-minded hookup over to his place from time to time. Encounters are fast and fumbling and drawn out more by his waning libido than anything else, and half the time he’ll settle for watching a guy play with himself in front of him while he makes an effort to get into it. It would be inaccurate to say that he’s not a romantic man; rather, it’s as though all his passion has been left behind in a difficult former life that he only reveals some of in long wistful moments over multiple encounters. Doesn’t get many repeats however on account of the lackluster performances, and also because his stubbornness bordering on self-righteousness about certain topics becomes very grating very quickly. Based on the stories he tells and the few pictures he has to show he was quite a catch in his earlier days, but circumstances and being closeted until much later in life kept him from exploring as much as he wanted. Has the potential to end up in a loving if not particularly sexual relationship with someone provided they’re extremely patient as he works through and/or learns to set aside his numerous hangups. There are worse fates...but never, ever call him daddy. It brings up a lot of bad memories, plus he just thinks it’s weird. Kink is something he left behind decades ago when he resigned himself to the knowledge that he wasn’t going to be getting much vanilla action, much less anything more exotic.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: mutual masturbation, actual straight guys, spooning

Favored gift: the balls to get some closure

Yuri

A consummate professional, albeit one whose marketing strategy carefully conceals that fact and also leaves no room for the kind of casual bigotry that flourishes on hookup apps - having a problem with “no fems” is expected from the build and the guyliner, but he’s all for equal opportunity sex even on top of that. Accustomed to the usual array of lonely and horny men who hit him up for pics and dirty chat and the occasional good time, and skilled enough in a variety of roles to perform whatever’s being asked of him. It’s not entirely clear where his own tastes lie; even the muscled closet cases who show up in his messages on the DL don’t seem to do all that much for him if they’re not paying. A former career in the arts has left him with an entertainer’s flair for pleasuring his clients both in and out of the bedroom along with an eclectic skill set that always finds a way to get put to work during sex. He can grind his hips, swirl his tongue, arch his back, and moan in the just the right ways to drive his partners wild, and all that experience also lends itself to his ability to patiently tutor even the clumsiest of lovers into something resembling competence, enough for them to get off if not himself. Bottoms more often than he tops, but he’s vers enough in skill and in preference to pivot when necessary and will probably have little trouble keeping this gig of his going later in life as well. He may not ever end in a proper relationship, but he’ll still do well for himself in an unorthodox way in keeping with the curiously world-weary optimism he sometimes espouses during pillow talk with guys who actually interest him enough for conversation.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: flip fucking, big top/small bottom, religious kink

Favored gift: creative restraints, for when he’s feeling acrobatic

#Fire Emblem #FE16 #Fire Emblem Three Houses

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epicstuckyficrecs · 5 years

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Weekly Recap | September 2-8

It seems this week’s rec is making up for the short one I had last week XD Enjoy!

PS: if you’re a writer/fanartist and I’ve tagged you on Tumblr, but not Twitter (or vice versa), and you have an account on both platforms, please let me know! It’s probably because I don’t know your username(s) on every platform.

Complete

This Bucky with This Steve by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Actors AU | 1,8K | Not rated): Ascendant star Bucky with washed up but hoping for a comeback Steve...

💙 The Barnes Exotic Animal Rescue (for Magical Creatures) by Deisderium/ @deisderium (Shrunkyclunks, witch Bucky | 5,6K | General): In which Steve Rogers stumbles across the Barnes Exotic Animal Rescue for Magical Creatures, meets a witch named Bucky, accidentally adopts a unicorn, and never wants to leave.

💙 You be yours and I'll be mine by verzacefatale/ @verzacefatale (Post-CW |13K | Explicit): “Oh, god. We got married, didn’t we?” Steve sounds like he’s trying not to panic. “Seems that way,” Bucky says, before he bursts out laughing at the bewildered look on Steve’s face. “Come on, pal. It’s not the end of the world.”

Keep Me by dixons_mama (Evanstan RPF | 1,6K | Explicit): After working endlessly on interviews for Disney, filming 355, and now attending GQ's Men of the Year event, Sebastian is tired down to his bones. Yet, he he finds himself wanting to just be near Chris.

A Pal in the Hand is Worth Two in the Jacuzzi by dixons_mama (PWP | 1,7K | Explicit): Bucky asks for Steve's help getting off, being the good friend (that's also stupidly in love) he is, Steve obliges.

Quicksand's Got No Sense of Humor by paperstorm (Canon | 2,6K | Teen): And Steve will be okay, because he doesn’t have any other option. It’s only a million tiny cuts all over his body, his heart, his soul, slowly bleeding him dry. How could be not be okay, when Bucky’s been through so much worse. (💙 Part 1 of Under the Dome)

Through the Monsoon by paperstorm/ @paper-storm (Post-CW | 3,1K | Mature): Steve’s expression is blank, empty, except for his eyes. A hardened, cold, unfeeling look is in his eyes, as they stare unseeing into the space in front of him. Bucky knows how this goes. It isn’t a regular occurrence, it's only happened a few times in the last half-year, but it isn’t good. Steve is an expert at shaking things off – which is either fortunate or unfortunate, depending on who’s asked about it – so when he can’t, it means things went really wrong. (💙 Part 3 of Under the Dome)

A Lifetime is Never Enough by paperstorm/ @paper-storm (Post-CW | 3K | Mature): Bucky reaches for him with his hand, eyes still closed, and Steve curls up against his side. Bucky’s arm goes around him, fingers sliding up to tangle in Steve’s hair. The sleep-warmed skin of his neck is a heavenly place for Steve to rest his forehead, tension going out of his limbs and greedily breathing in Bucky’s smell, his warmth, the safety his bed offers. (💙 Part 4 of Under the Dome)

Chasing The Light by paperstorm/ @paper-storm (Endgame fix-it | 7K | Mature): “The thing about you and me?” Bucky says, "is that the world isn’t as stubborn as we are. You’re right, I can’t promise it won’t separate us again. But I can promise we’ll find each other again if it does. Because we always do.” (💙 Part 5 of Under the Dome)

like rum on a fire by mcwho (PWP | 1,4K | Explicit): “You’re the one who wanted to see how far I could push you. You know how I like to follow orders, Buck,” Steve tells him, teasing drawl to his voice because Steve Rogers has never followed a goddamn order in his goddamn life up ‘til right about now.

Flaws by dixons_mama (PWP | 1,3K | Explicit): Steve catches Bucky scrutinizing his body, and while trying to reassure him, feels and smut ensue.

Recompense by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Endgame fix-it | 2K | Not rated): When Steve Rogers travels to Vormir to return the Soul Stone, he’s greeted with an unexpected choice that will change his life.

Warmth by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Modern AU | 5,3K | Mature): When Bucky Barnes receives the report that there is a guy lost on his mountain, he’s not prepared for the complications that ensue.

Wheels by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Modern AU | 2,3K | Not rated): Teacher Steve Rogers is ready to settle into a lounger and enjoy his neighbor Natasha’s pool when he finds himself staring at the most beautiful man he’d ever seen already lounging with intent.

Won’t You Be My Neighbor? by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Shrunkyclunks | 1,6K | Teen): Steve moves into an apartment with a Captain America impersonator, and Bucky is the building super, and gets them mixed up.

💙 it takes a lot to know a man by kittyandmulder, steebadore (Modern AU |39K | Explicit): Bucky flips to the next page, and the world around him grinds to a halt as his brain struggles to process what he's seeing. The noise of the train fades and static fills the inside of his head as he looks down at the sketches of the metal-armed guy without the mask. It's—that's him. It's Bucky's own goddamn face staring back at him from this stranger's sketchbook."What the fuck."

Double Trouble by HeroicPinups, kittyandmulder/ @kittyandmulder (PWP, Steve/Bucky/Steve | 2,7K | Explicit): Bucky finds himself stuck in a super soldier sandwich. How unfortunate.

💙 time on my hands (could be time spent with you) by thedoubteriswise/ @thedoubteriswise (Post-CW | 23K | Mature): There’s no reason to be nervous. Steve’s just going to go see his best friend. This is Bucky, for God's sake, what could there possibly be to be nervous about? It's only been a little over a month since Bucky went under. He'd practically seen him yesterday.

Reading in progress

💙 Servitum by justanotherStonyfan/ @justanotherstonyfan (canon-divergent, Shrunkyclunks | 43K | Explicit): Steve's affection can be huge, almost palpable. His desire to take care of James can be overwhelming. But James can't think of a point so far where Steve's been overwhelming that he hasn't enjoyed immensely - and if they can roleplay some lifelong memories out of a spanking session, a shibari tutorial, and a carefully lit table, he's pretty sure providing Steve with the opportunity to do something he may not even be aware of wanting should go down a treat, and make for a pretty awesome afternoon. ( 💙Part 28 of the Honey Honey series)

WIP

💙 Cakes & Balances by mambo/ @whtaft (POTUS Steve | 16K | 8/? | Teen): It’s kind of hard to date the cute baker from down the street when you’re the President of the United States of America. But Steve Rogers will make it work.

oh the glory of it all by hitlikehammers (Post-Endgame | 4K | 1/23 | Mature): They end up stumbling almost unexpectedly into the white-picket-fence, apple-pie life they used to dream of. Except it’s not like that at all.

💙 An Escort's Guide to Navigating Tricky Work Relationships by Hopeless--Geek (wuzzy90)/ @hopelessartgeek, Mystrana/ @mystrana (Escort AU | 24K | 4/5 | Explicit): Steve is an outspoken leader of the fight for escort legalization. He wants to show the world that they have relationships just like everyone else, but hasn’t dated in the past five years because he’s been so busy with work. Bucky’s still not quite recovered from a bad relationship with a boyfriend who degraded his choice of work. And while he can define professional boundaries like it’s his job (it is), Bucky’s not great at handling his personal life. A story of navigating tricky work relationships.

💙 This Side of the Blue by notlucy/ @notlucy (Mermaid AU | 121K | 33/44 | Explicit): A trick was the only explanation for what Steve saw floating there. This figment of his childhood. This myth. This legend. Within the tank, the siren bared its teeth.

💙 Political Animals by crinklefries/ @spacerenegades, Deisderium/ @deisderium (Modern AU, politics | 29K | 4/9 | Explicit): Okay, so the real problem is that you shouldn’t fuck your arch-rival, political enemy, and the person you loathe the most in the world where you work. Or like, at least, you shouldn’t keep doing that.

Re-read

💙 straight from your heart by luninosity/ @luninosity (Stucky in Wakanda | 10K | Explicit): Steve doesn’t mean to have the orgasm. Not exactly. Not the first time, anyway.

💙 Tinder Is the Night by rohkeutta/ @rohkeutta (Modern AU, Tinder | 7K | Explicit): It’s the quality that gets him first. The profile photo looks like it's been taken with a semi-professional camera: it's sharp and remarkably unposed compared to most people on Tinder. The guy in the photo is the size of a fucking fridge but with Marilyn Monroe’s waistline, accentuated by the way he’s standing half-twisted towards the camera. He’s also in the process of getting arrested.

💙 If Only In My Dreams by odetteandodile (Modern AU | 28K | Teen): Bucky is a highly successful cooking and lifestyle blogger, the gay New England Pioneer Woman if you will. He writes all about life in his Connecticut home with his D.H. (darling husband). Only problem? It’s all complete fiction. When his agent Sam informs him that he's been offered an exclusive sponsorship deal with Stark Media and a three book contract to go with it, Bucky's forced to fess up to Sam, who's predictably...displeased. But Sam's also convinced the deal is too good to miss—even if they have to put on a little bit of a show in order to get it. So Tony and Pepper descend on Bucky and Sam's fake home for Christmas with a devastatingly handsome War Hero in tow, and their already complicated plan quickly gets even more complicated as Bucky finds himself falling head over heels for Steve. Can he keep it together just for the holidays? Did he ever have it together in the first place?

💙 took my love, took it down by LaughsAtThunder (Post-WS | 31K | Explicit): The problem, Bucky thinks now that he has most of his memories back, is that his whole entire world has always revolved around Steve Rogers. Steve has been always been half of Bucky’s identity. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ best friend. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ wingman. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ teammate. And now, well, now Steve had other people to fill those positions. And of course, of course he’d always been a little bit in love with Steve. So when he overhears Steve telling Natasha that he’s finally found someone he’d like to date, someone with similar life experience, Bucky clings blindly to the hope that maybe, just maybe, Steve is talking about him.

💙 Sex, Drugs, & Needles by OhCaptainMyCaptain/ @ohcaptainmycaptain1918 (Modern AU, tattoo artist Bucky | 38K | Explicit): Bucky's a bit of a masochist in that sense – needles and the buzz of a tattoo gun have always turned him on... It’s even worse that this client is what they call a ‘needle virgin’. Doesn’t appear to have a piercing anywhere on him, and he’s already made it clear that he has no prior ink. Bucky’s always found something inherently sexy about being the first person to introduce another to that experience. He has absolutely no problem popping this guy's needle cherry.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec #weekly recap

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stripper-patrick · 4 years

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Dusk🤍 Shawn Mendes

Warnings: smut, language, oral (f), taunting, teasing, unprotected

Song: none of my concern- Jhené Aiko

Relationship: Shawn Mendes x black plus sized reader

“So how are you enjoying your food” my boyfriend Andrew of 3 years asks cutting into his juicy medium rare steak. I nod swallowing the rest of my pasta with a smile.

“It’s great how’s yours”

“Really good” he dips it in A1 and nods. My nose hints at a familiar smell of men’s Dior Sauvage disregarding the aroma of food. I trace the smell to the door and watch my ex walk through with the brunette none other than Clarence- I mean Camilla Cabello. Immediately they’re seated right across from us. Me and Austin are in a booth and Shawn and little miss Chlamydia are next to us in regular chairs. She sits with her back turned to us but of course Shawn can see me in plain view. I swallow thickly and take a sip of my water.

I can feel eyes burning into my side profile. I just know it’s him there’s no denying it. I glance over quickly to see his arm resting on the extra chair. His satin wine shirt unbuttoned more than necessary. Beautiful hair swooped to the side. Tattoos beautifully inked swiftly showing vastly in the dim light. Hazel colored eyes staring right past his date and right into my eyes. His eyes were prone to changing around this time of the year. His lip curls into a half smile sending chills down my spine. I remember nights where he’d force me to look at him giving me that same smile after obliterating my pussy. Flashbacks of those fateful nights replay in my head. His hand squishing my cheeks together as he thrusts endlessly. Calling me honey on repeat. Telling me to cum for a 3rd time within the hour without breaks. Shawn most definitely pushed my absolute boundaries without making me feel uncomfortable in the slightest.

“Are you ok?” Austin asks. I snap from my thoughts and go back to my pasta.

“Yea I’m fine” I nod. Truth be told Austin could never push me the way Shawn could. It was the best time ever with Shawn. We broke up because we just felt like we were forcing a relationship that was never there in the first place. I don’t know.

“Isn’t that Shawn?” He looks over making direct eye contact. Shawn keeps that same smug towards Austin. Almost like he’s reading my mind. In a more ‘I fucked her way better than you ever will’ type of way. “God I hate the way he’s staring at you such a pervert” he retorts

“Yea shocking to see him after all these years” I shrug “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick” I stand up and pull down my dress feeling those same eyes revert on me as I stride away to the ladies room. I look in the mirror feeling a surge of relief hit me. I shake out my hands and take a deep breath. I smooth out the body fitting dress with a high thigh slit to outline my curves. My phone chimes and it’s a text from an unknown number. I think it’s spam until I read it.

?: you know how your exposed legs make me feel honey 🤤

There’s no way. If it were Austin his ID would’ve came up. Plus he’d never call me honey

Me: who is this?

Of course i know who it is but there’s nothing wrong with being too sure.

?: something tells me you know who it is

I stop answering clearly gaining my unfortunately correct answer. “Fuck me” I mutter to myself. I swing the door open and stop in my tracks when I see Crack Cocaine standing there looking surprised.

“Oh hey I remember you from the pictures Y/N right?” I chuckle dryly nodding “yup that’s me” I walk past her not allowing anything else to be said. I get back to the table to see Austin gone and his finished plate. He must’ve went to the bathroom too.

I sit down and a figure stands next to me. I look up seeing Shawn looking down at me with a smirk on his face.

“Hi honey”

“You don’t get to call me that anymore Shawn what do you want”

“For you to sit on my face but we’re in public”

“Publicity never stopped you” I roll my eyes “my boyfriend is in the bathroom he’ll be out any second so I suggest you leave”

“1. I’m not scared of some shrimp dicked loser who can’t even make you squirt on the first round” he states as a matter of factly. I remember that night vividly “and 2. That’s impossible because the bathrooms that way and he went that way” he points to the door.

“Don’t play with me”

“Last time I did that you were moaning my name anyways I’m serious Y/N he left you just let me foot the bill and I’ll take you home”

“No I want dessert and I’ll take my own self home” I didn’t drive but I don’t need to see them touching and hugging. To be honest I’m not ready to see that no matter how old our relationship is. We broke up 4 years ago but we’ve been together since we were 17.

He sighs nodding “fine. Still stubborn I see”

“Never changed Mendes” I get a glance at his butterfly tattoo. I have the same one on my butt because we decided to get drunk and get one. Mine is just more colorful. The waiter comes back and smiles “any dessert for you two?”

“I’ll have the cookie skillet please” she nods and leaves again. I take a sip of my water before finishing my pasta.

Once I’m done the dessert comes and the waiter takes my plate. I thank him and grab my spoon digging into the delicious treat. I can feel Shawn staring at me as his date Crack pipe goes on and on about whatever it is she’s talking about. I look at him and roll my eyes. I unconsciously press my thighs together. His eyes trail down to my legs. Shit he noticed I think.

He trails back up to me and wets his lips before taking his bottom lip and pulling it between his perfect white teeth. I shake my head and continue eating.

Once I finish Austin still hasn’t come back. I ring his phone but it goes straight to voicemail. What the hell is going on. I text him and usually he’d text back within the same minute but to no avail this wasn’t the case.

The waiter brings me my check and I get a text. My eyes gleam thinking it’s Austin but it’s Shawn.

Shawn: let me take care of the bill honey😕

I look over to see him already staring back at me. I shake my head and pull my credit card out of my bra. I hate purses. I give the waiter the money adding a tip and sign the bill once it’s back to me. I sigh and get up. Shawn is watching my every move. I give him a small smile and leave out the door. Well I don’t wanna spend any more money tonight so I guess I’ll walk. The restaurant wasn’t that far from my house anyways. I begin my journey down the lit parking lot. The breeze brings goose bumps to my skin and I cross my arms shivering a little. I see an older Cadillac drive up next to me following me. The tinted windows roll down and it’s Shawn.

“You didn’t drive?”

“No it’s a short walk from my house I’m fine” I shrug

“Y/N please get in the car” he begs “I know the last time we spoke we weren’t on the best of terms but that doesn’t mean I still don’t care for you as a person”

I stop and look at him. “Please” he pleads

I sigh and nod. He gets out opening the door for me. At least he hasn’t broken that habit. Crypt Keeper is in the front seat with a stale face because her boyfriend is overly nice but that’s not my business. I put my seatbelt on and he gets back in the drivers seat. “This car was always my favorite”

“Yea we had a lot of fun in here” of course he’s referring to the many nights where I rode him in the backseat or my head down on him while he drove or his large tattooed hand down my pants. He looks at me through the rear view and I nod glancing only for a second. Too scared that I’ll be caught by his eyes again. That’s how we met in the first place. That damn smile and gaze.

“We did” The car ride is silent to Captain Crunches house but sometimes silence is key. Shawn mainly kept his eyes on the road occasionally looking at me. She leans over the console in a slow motion like manner and kisses his cheek then his neck slowly. She’s making sure I get every second of this.

“I’ll see you later baby. Maybe you could come over and we can chill” she winks. Corn dog gets out of the car and shuts it striding up to her door step. I get out and move to the front. Shawn drives off swiftly.

“So how’ve you been”

“Save the small talk for someone who wants it”

“Fine I’ll get right to the point” he clenches his jaw “I miss you”

“Clearly Computer has you preoccupied”

“Camilla isn’t you” he pulls into my driveway and stops.

“Thanks” I say. He gets out as well following me up to the door “I feel like you have more to get off your chest so do you wanna come in?”

“Yea” he nods. I push the key in my door opening it and immediately taking off my shoes. “do you want anything to drink”

“No thanks” he says. We sit down on the couch awkwardly. “Why are you dating a douche like Austin?”

“What?”

“I mean do you even love him?”

“Shawn don’t-“ I stand up irritated and he stands up as well towering over me

“Answer my damn question” He demands raising his voice a little.

“I’m not your girl anymore you need to watch your tone Shawn. You have a girl”

“But she’s not you”

“That’s not my business. You broke up with me remember or did you forget that too”

“Y/N I know what I did but you don’t know how much I regret it”

“Shawn you’re an egotistical bastard”

“Once again you never answered my question” he walks towards me until my back hits the wall.

“Shawn” I beg more pleadingly now. Pleading he won’t make me tell the truth. For so long I’ve put my true feelings on the back burner and focused on what’s in front of me that I haven’t had time to seriously recover from our breakup. “Lemme ask you this then” he moves down hunching his back to get close to my ear “does he fuck you so hard until you have tears drenching your face and you can’t walk for the next 2 weeks? Does he turn you inside out with just his tongue? Hmm honey” Shawn begins pressing his lips to my neck as he utters the filthiest and truest words.

“Shawn please”

“I haven’t heard you utter those beautiful words in so long” hungrily he plants his lips on me holding me in a powerful kiss. So powerful I almost lost balance. Shawn holds me up and takes me upstairs. I open the door to my bedroom and Shawn is already pulling up my dress. I pull it over my head and he sits on the bed admiring my body like he did the first time. I lean down and kiss his plump lips. “Either you tell me the truth now or I’ll fuck it out of you” he smirks

“I’ll choose option two” I smile. He pulls off his shirt and flips us over laying on top of me. I pull my fingers through his soft curls and he proceeds to kiss my laced up breasts. Shawn unclasps it throwing it somewhere and just buries his head between them. “I miss you so much” he kisses between the dip of my breasts and down to my navel. Shawn looks at me with those daunting eyes and throws my leg over his shoulder. Half of Shawns face disappears between my legs.

I moan closing my eyes feeling his lips attach to my clothed clit. “Shawn please don’t tease me you’ve been doing that all night”

He pulls down my underwear throwing them into oblivion with the rest of my clothes. He dives back in swirling and eating his way through me. I grab the sheets arching my back grinding myself along his face. My breathing picks up as does his speed. Shawn presses his hand over my hips to keep me still while he uses his fingers to press against my g-spot. My body shutters and I try to pull back from him as the pleasure becomes too much “don’t move while I’m eating”

“Shawn I’m gonna cum” I warn. Just as I give my fair warning I leak all over his tongue. He collects every drop I have to offer even sucking more out of me.

Once I’m juiced out he comes up licking his lips. He sticks his fingers in his mouth sucking them clean with a smile. Shawn comes back up kissing me and I feel his erection poking my thigh. I slide my hand between us unzipping his pants and he pulls down his pants and boxers in one motion. Shawn kisses me again taking my hands above my head. He slides in in a swift motion filling me up familiarly.

I moan locking my legs around his waist as he begins rocking his hips into me. I bury my head in the crook of his neck still smelling his cologne. “You feel that baby? Austin could never fill you up like this could” he’s balls deep inside of me and trust me Franklin wasn’t short or thin in anyway. He was quite the opposite. “You wanna tell me the truth now?”

“No” I smirk moaning

“No?” He coos kissing my neck “we’ll see about that” his hips jut harder and I grip the sheets feeling my clit rub against his pelvis. “Shawn please” he hoists himself up on his arm and wraps his hand around my throat fucking me harder into oblivion. My eyes roll to the back of my head.

Inaudible moans escape my lips and my mouth is wide open. That black hole is close to swallowing me up. “I can feel your pussy pulsing on me honey are you about to cum? Gotta tell me the truth first”

He lets go just as I cum feeling my orgasm penetrate my entire body. “I love you” strings out of my mouth like a broken record. Shawn cums on instant and he presses his forehead to mine. His body is tense as he bites his lip breathing raggedly.

“Yes baby I love when you cum for me. Look at you so sexy. My pussy made you do this didn’t it.” I moan egging him on. His knuckles are white from the gripping the sheets. Once he’s bottomed himself out inside of me he lays next to me and I pull the sheets up to cover my exposed breasts. “Did you mean it?” I know what he’s referring to. Before I can answer my phone rings. I pick it up swiping left. I sit up hunching over. “Hello”

“Y/N I’m so sorry I left you there”

“Where did you go Austin are you fucking kidding me”

“I’m so sorry see the thing is I was gonna propose but I left the ring at home by mistake”

My soul leaves my body and I look to Shawn. He sits up in concern placing his hand on my shoulder. “I want you to marry me Y/N” I know Shawn was listening this time. He lets me go and states at me.

“Austin I’ll have to call you back I’m sorry give me a minute” I hang up and Shawn stares at me blankly. I stand up and grab my bra putting it on. I grab my dress and look at him.

“Did you mean it?” He asks again.

“Yes Shawn I did” tears brim my eyes. I’m so confused. I’m in love with two different men.

Part 2??

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indiaalphawhiskey · 4 years

Text

SD Drabble #1

Note: Another prompt I thought of long ago, that I’m still so in love with. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the time to write it, but here it is anyway. Posting under the tag “Sugar Daddy AU”. Please excuse my self-indulgence. xx ---

“Have you got that?” the woman asked. The tone of her voice, coupled with the patronizing pinch of her newly ‘refreshed’ lips, screamed condescension.

Harry offered her a soft, subdued smile. “I have, ma’am,” he said, calmly.

She sniffed and her nose, already two and a half inches in the air to begin with, titled higher in doubt. “Repeat it, then.”

Harry let out a slow exhale through his teeth.

“Of course.” His smile never left his face as he ran through the list in his head. “For the table’s appetizers, the Rockefeller oyster platter, baked garlic lemon butter scallops, lemon butter sauce separated into individual sauce dishes, garlic to the side, and a Caesar salad, with no dressing, no bacon, no chicken, and no croutons, to be served twenty minutes before the main dishes. For his entree,” Harry said, turning to offer the gentleman – who had been scanning him from head-to-toe with a rather lascivious smirk – a quick nod. “Sir will have the cherry-glazed rack of lamb, with marble potatoes instead of garlic rice pilaf, potatoes pre-cut into quarters, and a whiskey double.” He turned back to the woman, a challenge in his tone. “Madam will have the Chilean sea bass and braised asparagus, asparagus to the side and blanched instead of braised, with the pesto and lemon sauce on a separate dish, and a glass of Semillon. Dessert will be two pieces of the dairy and gluten-free chocolate truffle cake, and two glasses of our best sherry.”

The woman’s gaze remained unimpressed.

“Fine,” she breathed. She flicked her fingers away once, the sheen of her opulent diamond ring reflected on the white tablecloth – a dismissal.

Harry bowed politely, face impeccably calm as he gathered the menus from the table and began to walk away.

Oyster platter and scallops baked in nothing, he recited in his head as he weaved his way around the tables. Plain lettuce masquerading as Caesar salad. Lamb with an entirely different side dish than the one on the menu – Chef will be pleased as fuck, by the way––

Snap! Harry startled at the sound. What the f–– Snap! Snap! Snap!

He leaned back reflexively to avoid the hand aggressively snapping right in front of his nose, before turning to find it was attached to a portly man in his mid-fifties. His face was tinged red with impatience, his breath laboured as he heaved himself back onto his chair now that he had Harry’s attention.

Harry took a deep breath before facing the table.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Sir,” he began politely. “But my colleague will be with you in just a mo –”

“Oh, you’ll do, sweetheart,” the man crooned, licking his lips as he surveyed Harry. “You’ll do just fine.”

His impatience had faded completely, Harry noticed, though Harry much preferred irritation to… whatever this new expression was. Having only had this job for three days, it took all of Harry’s willpower to swallow the cutting remark that was already resting on his tongue. He managed, but unfortunately, the way his skin was crawling with discomfort was not as easily dealt with.

He exhaled slowly, reminding himself why he needed this job. Unbidden, the events of the last week flashed before his eyes.

Finding unrecognizable lingerie under his pillow. Being told by his fiance that he was being left for a nineteen-year-old pilates instructor slash aspiring male model. Discovering three months’ worth of unpaid rent bills hidden in their (now his, he supposed) bread box, and a discarded bill for a ‘12-carat gold-plated necklace with ‘MY BABY’ engraving, cursive’ (Gross.) in his trash (already paid, thank God for small favours). Combing coffee shop bulletin boards for part-time jobs that fit his tedious grad school schedule. Chicken-flavored ramen for the three straight dinners.

He tried not to sigh.

Relax, he told himself. Be professional, get your check, and get out of here.

“How may I help you, Sir?” Harry said, miraculously polite.

“Well, handsome,” Lecherous Restaurant Patron purred, drawing out the pregnant pause as Harry quelled a rising gag.

“Come off it, George,” his companion cut in. He tacked on a chuckle at the end like an afterthought, though it couldn’t mask the slight edge embedded in the words. It made Harry think of the way a cheeky thief smiles as he runs his finger back and forth against a switchblade – just a hint of a threat. “Just order, mate. The kid’s busy.”

It was hardly a white knight stepping in to defend his honour, but after the week Harry had, it was close. He had barely glanced in his saviour’s direcion before George spoke again.

“I own the place, Tomlinson. He can spare a couple more minutes, can’t you, darling?” He punctuated the question with two hefty slaps to Harry’s arse cheek. The first made Harry freeze in shock. The second made his vision go red.

Lingerie.

‘He’s… amazing, Harry. I love him.’

Rent.

‘MY BABY’ engraving, cursive.

Wanted: Part-time Wait Staff.

‘Repeat it, then.’

Slap! Slap!

The punch flew out of Harry, the crisp sound of knuckles against cheekbone ringing satisfyingly in his ears, loud and clear over the scuffle, over the yelling, over the firing. It was all Harry could hear until the harsh slam of the restaurant’s back door, and the biting whip of the winter wind.

Cheated on, left, in debt, harassed, fired, tossed out on my arse, Harry thought to himself, raising his fist in a sarcastic cheer. B-I-N-G-fucking-O. What he wouldn’t do for a joint right now.

He let out a deep, bone-tired sigh, winter’s icy fingers creeping around his open coat and up his too-thin undershirt (they had taken his uniform straight off his back, the bastards), before making his way out of the tiny back alley. He hunched his shoulders automatically, the wind somehow stronger out on the dimly lit main street, and began his long trudge to the tube stop, large hands stuffed awkwardly into his coat’s faux pockets because he had also lost his favorite gloves to bloody Neverwhere this morning.

“Mind the gap, indeed,” he mumbled to himself sadly, taking a little solace in the fact that he had remembered to bring his earphones with him today. He was convinced the morose opening chords of Landslide would manage soothe his broken heart, if he played it enough times. (Hey, if Stevie made it through, so could Harry.)

Lost in thought (and in the gargantuan task of untangling the aforementioned earphones), the barely audible crunch of gravel next to him didn’t register at all.

“ – genuinely feel like you’re ignoring me on purpose now but, once more, with feeling – Do. You. Need. A. Ride?”

Harry jumped, clutching at his heart and dropping his earphones in surprise. “What the bloody –”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” the man said. He offered Harry a sheepish smile, his elbow resting on the window of his cheesily predictable top down. “But I’d been here for like seven minutes –”

“You’ve been stalking me for seven minutes,” Harry deadpanned, so done with these absolute shits. “Yeah, not a great line to lead with.”

“Not stalking,” he tried to chuckle confidently, but the tone came out slightly uncertain. “But like, offering you a ride. You know, to make up for…” He tipped his head backward, motioning to the restaurant. “My partner. Business partner,” he clarified seriously, and ––

Oh, Harry thought. The other guy. Tomlinson, he remembered. No wonder his voice was familiar.

“No, thank you,” Harry said curtly as he began to walk again, his face resolutely blank, eyes trained stubbornly on his destination.

A huff of disbelief weaved itself between the sound of slow-rolling wheels.

“C’mon, kid,” Tomlinson tried. “It’s cold as shit.”

“Then maybe get a car with a roof,” Harry said, quietly.

Tomlinson chuckled in answer, wheels still painfully in time with Harry’s steps.

“Fair point. C’mon,” he repeated. “You’ve had a shit night. You’re cold and tired. Let me give you a ride.” When Harry stayed silent, he continued. “You’ll be home quicker. Home, and clean,” he needled. “And warm.”

At that, Harry let himself steal a glance, and was greeted with Tomlinson’s smirking profile, his eyes on the road. High cheekbones, a sharp jaw, the lovely peak of a small nose – everything was slim and pointed. Pixie-like, Harry caught himself thinking, though the delicate quality of his face was offset by just a hint of handsome stubble. A healthy amount of silver decorated his temples, but the hair on his head was still a touch more pepper than salt. Not quite a silver fox just yet.

Fifty, Harry guessed. Fifty-five at most.

“Is this your M.O., or something?” Harry asked, trying to keep the raking irritation from bleeding into his voice. The calmer he was, the less Tomlinson would think he was getting somewhere. “Is that how this works? You go to a restaurant, find a target, get your wingman to act like an arsehole, and then swoop in for the kill?”

A startled laugh broke through the hush of the street.

“Just a wee bit paranoid, aren’t you?” Tomlinson teased.

“Evasive, aren’t you?” Harry shot back.

“Okay, calm down, Sherlock.” Harry could still hear the amusement in his voice. “I do have killer flirting skills, but not serial killer flirting skills.”

Harry sighed then, so, so exhausted. “Right. Well again, no thank you on the ride. In case my little demonstration at the restaurant was somehow unclear, I don’t date men who are old enough to be my father.”

He tipped his chin up higher, because while Harry may not have any money (or a job, or a fiance), he still had his dignity.

Or at least part of it, he corrected, pushing away the curdle of humiliation as he remembered finding those awful panties.

“So you only date cheap men,” Tomlinson said, decisively.

“God,” Harry whispered under his breath, his annoyance now too hard to ignore. Louder he said, “Fuck off.”

“Cheap,” he continued confidently over Harry’s insult. “Young, handsome bastards who get one big paycheck and think that makes them Drake or whoever the fuck –” The cool-dad rap reference, plus the well-timed dig at his stupid, necklace-engraving ex, made Harry’s lip twitch upward against his will. “ – and then fuck off with some barely-legal twit who sucks dick like a champ but can’t name a single city outside of London.”

Harry snorted.

“Know him, or something?” he asked sarcastically, eyes trained on the tiny Underground sign that was still about three blocks away.

“Know him? Oh love,” The way he said it – ‘Luhv’ – made Harry finally turn to him. It was a mistake. His eyes were sharp – a searing blue even in the orange cast of the street lamps – and his smile devastating. “I am him,” he admitted freely, the skin around his eyes crinkling as his smirk widened. “Only, you know,” he shrugged. “With a few more checks, and slightly higher standards. I mean,” he blinked, almost sweetly. “You can name at least three cities outside London... can’t you?”

Harry could feel a gentle heat settle at the tops of his cheeks, the insinuation about his blowjob skills decidedly not lost on him. He felt his stomach do a sudden somersault. He pushed it away, convincing himself it was just the rush of attention, the electricity of an unexpected ego boost and that quick, first moment of feeling pretty again after getting horribly, horribly dumped.

His brief silence must’ve signaled a chink in his armour, because Tomlinson then took it as an opportunity to say, “I’m Louis.”

“I didn’t ask,” Harry said, tongue fast, though the fact that he hadn’t yet ducked into a not-suitable-for-sports-cars-sized alleyway probably softened the blow.

Louis only nodded, still smiling. “Right, okay. As much fun as this has been, I really doubt the lovely heated seating of my car will dull our banter. Or...” he dragged out the ‘r’, eyes mischievous. “Are you really going to let a…” he assessed Harry. “Twenty? Twenty year gap be the reason you get hypothermia? Is that really the hill you want to freeze on, Mr. Principled?”

“Closer to twenty-six,” Harry corrected stubbornly. “Which is an entire fully grown adult between us. You could have kids as old – nay, older – than our age gap.” Did he just say ‘nay?’

“Did you just say ‘nay’, Shakespeare?” Louis teased. “So definitely at least three cities outside London, then.” Harry didn’t smile but it was a close thing. “And I promise you,” Louis continued. “I haven’t put myself in the position to bear children since you were – nay, before you were born. Been in a lot of other positions since then, though.”

He had the audacity to punctuate it with a wink. It was annoyingly charming, and Harry had never been angrier at himself.

“Besides,” Louis said, with the kind of smile that knew victory was close. “It’s just a ride, love, no strings attached. Unless of course, getting tied up is what you’re into,” he added, so incredibly pleased with himself. Harry wanted to smack him. But he could also feel the blessedly comfortable heat radiating from the car’s vents.

“Fine.”

#sugar daddy au #larry drabble #iaw drabble #SD1 #writing exercise

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longformautie · 4 years

Text

Addressing sexism of autistic men

CW: gender-based violence, including murder and rape

I. Introduction

This post has been coming for a long time. And I mean a LONG time. My thoughts on this topic have been evolving constantly. They will probably evolve even after I post this. I am still learning and welcome feedback.

I was prompted to write this post during the pre-coronavirus Before Times, when I saw that the popular Facebook page Humans Of New York had profiled an autistic man who had become a pickup artist. For context, pickup artists are a group of straight men who will cynically do whatever it takes to get them laid, which of course means blatantly ignoring the needs of the women they interact with, and who share strategies with one another. The autistic man in the photo post talked about how before he was a pickup artist he was hopeless with women, and now he was getting girls - getting laid, even. He said he knew it was manipulative, but that it was only fair - after all, it’s not like anyone had ever sympathized with him for his social difficulties. I was curious about what people had to say in the comments section; turns out, I wasn’t satisfied by any of the takes I found.

The takes I didn’t like can be broken down into two categories. Category number one were formulations like “poor him, he just wants to be accepted.” I’m not even a little bit sympathetic to this take and will only be spending a moment on it. Suffice it to say, it’s hard to take these people at their word that they care about the autism struggle when they don’t show up in droves to the banners of the neurodiversity movement with this level of enthusiasm. Rather, we are part of a culture that likes to sympathize with toxic men. If the man wasn’t autistic, they’d find some other excuse, but since he is, in defending him they can also activate the ableist notion that autistic people are incapable of respecting boundaries. I choose the word “incapable” because if your position is that autistic people sometimes don’t know better than to violate a boundary, the logical conclusion is simply that someone should teach them. To sincerely and enthusiastically take up this kind of “poor autistic guy doesn’t know any better” rhetoric, you have to presume complete incompetence of autistic people and that we’ll never learn, so that when a straight autistic man does a violating thing to a woman, they can shrug their shoulders and say, “well, I guess nothing can be done about this.” This attitude is sexism and ableism couched in a delusion of sympathy.

Category number two of takes, I like lots better but still am not quite satisfied with, and can be roughly summarized: “This isn’t caused by autism, it’s caused by being an asshole.” While I agree that being an asshole is the main ingredient in this cocktail, I don’t think the autism should be dismissed as an irrelevant detail. I think there is a sexism problem specific to autistic men that needs to be separately talked about and addressed. I intend to do so in this post, without assigning blame either to the autism or to the women being abused.

I want to note in advance that this post will be cishet-centric, not because I think straight experiences are universal, partly because the behavior of cishet men is what’s at task here, but mostly because I have no idea how these issues affect LGBTQIA communities. If anyone is able and willing offer insight or resources on that topic, I’d love to hear from you.

I. Autistic men

Having experienced it firsthand, I can say for sure that autistic loneliness is a vicious cycle. By loneliness, I mean a lack of any social connection, not just a lack of romantic or sexual partners. Autism makes social interaction more difficult, which makes it harder to find friends, but, crucially, not having friends also makes social interaction more difficult. More people to interact with means more practice with social interaction; it also means more assistance from comparatively clued-in people who care about us. This vicious cycle can also manifest with respect to a subset of people. For example, an autistic child who only socially interacts with adults may have trouble forming connections with peers. For the purpose of this discussion, I want to focus on the problems this presents for autistic boys who want to interact with girls in their age group.

The scarcity of cross-gender social interaction during childhood need not be framed as a uniquely autistic experience. Societal forces sort us by gender from an incredibly early age, so the vast majority of our social connections in childhood are with people of the same gender. Furthermore, especially during and after adolescence, boys and men are discouraged from being emotionally close with one another. Thus, the norms of masculinity isolate us almost totally from peers of all genders. Our social connections with men must be superficial; our social connections with women must be non-platonic. For those of us who crave the emotional intimacy that our same-gender friendships lack, a romantic relationship is the only socially acceptable opportunity to forming a deep, loving bond with someone close to our own age.

Enter autism (again). Dating, when we hit adolescence, is wholly new to us, and we have been given no opportunity to adjust ourselves to its social norms. Autism makes this a particular challenge, as do gender roles in dating. Since men are supposed to initiate and women are supposed to merely give subtle hints (if not be straight-out “hard to get”), straight autistic men face both the pressure of leaping into an arena that intimidates us, and the bewilderment of not knowing whether it’s working. If I had a crush on you in high school, I probably kept it a secret; if you had a crush on me, I probably didn’t notice.

Worth noting here that none of the things I’ve listed are evidence against autistic men’s actual attractiveness or appeal to women. We are facing access barriers that accumulate over the course of our lives until we finally figure out how to start ripping them down, and when we do, we quite often do get to have romantic and sexual relationships. But the prevailing narrative about autism and other disabilities is that they’re unsexy, and a lot of autistic men buy into that. I myself thought I was one of those autistic men who’d never date or have sex until experience taught me otherwise.

Knowing all this, we can see why a lot of autistic men might feel both that they need a relationship to be happy, and that they cannot possibly have one. This makes us prime targets for recruitment, because the sense of personal injury at being deprived of sexual experiences for reasons beyond one’s control is as indispensable an ingredient in the various movements of the “manosphere” as the sexism itself. It’s not that autistic men are any more or any less sexist than regular men, but that the sexists among us already feel exactly the way these communities require them to feel: deeply aggrieved, and deeply desperate. Pickup artistry both validates this sense of personal injury, and sells itself as the solution: a set of simple, logical rules that, when followed, will grant success. But it misses the uncomfortable truth that while everyone deserves to receive love, no particular person is obliged to give it. This is a deeply frustrating contradiction with no easy solution, but the solution certainly is not to cynically manipulate women into doing the thing you want.

III. Allistic women

I never was a pickup artist, but that doesn’t mean I never harbored a grievance against women for my loneliness. After all, I thought, wouldn’t my perpetual singleness end if women were more direct and assertive? As such, I worry that other people who read this may end up pinning the responsibility for autistic loneliness onto individual women too. The previous section hints at why that’s wrong, but I also want to take the time to explain why it’s deeply unfair.

My autism and masculinity were first brought into conjunction (or was it conflict?) in my mind in my freshman year of college. One of my new Facebook friends shared a Tumblr blog called “Straight White Boys Texting” which was a collection of screenshots of unwanted straight white boy texts, running the gamut from simple inability to take a hint to bona fide “what color is your thong” garbage. I felt pretty attacked, partly because I wasn’t yet used to seeing myself as part of a “straight white boys” collective that people didn’t like, and partly because what I saw was a bunch of guys missing social cues and taking things literally, just as a younger me would have done. I felt like I needed to say something - and boy, was that a bad decision. I said something about how the women in the screenshots needed to be more direct, and got instant (and deserved) backlash both for focusing on the least important problem in the interactions and for placing responsibility for a male behavior problem squarely back onto women.

At the time, I didn’t have a coherent framework for understanding sexism. Since then, I’ve learned that giving a direct no can occasionally get women killed, and most often at least gets them yelled at and insulted. Giving a yes also comes with its own risks - the risk of rape, in (unfortunately-not-actually-so-)extreme cases where that inch of “yes” results in guys taking a mile, but also the more pervasive risk of being socially stigmatized as slutty or promiscuous. It’s often the most women can get away with to be subtle (rather than completely silent) about all of their wants and needs, so that a discerning man who actually cares will know what those wants and needs are and respect them.

This puts those of us who have trouble with reading subtle signals in a difficult position if we inadvertently cross a boundary, but that’s not a problem women can reasonably be expected to solve. If a man crosses a woman’s boundaries because he simply doesn’t respect them, he wants to make it look like it’s an accident so that he will be forgiven. “But Aaron,” you might say, “didn’t you just say that the right thing to do in those situations is to teach people the right behavior, not ignore it?” Yes, that’s true. But that assumes the continuation of a conversation that a woman might feel safer just skipping; if a man is making her feel uncomfortable, she’s probably not inclined to continue to converse with him in order to establish whether his intentions were good or bad. When we impose the burden of freeing males from loneliness onto women, we are asking them to continue to interact with frightening men at their own peril.

Ironically enough, some of these frightening men are the autistic pickup artists from part 1. This means that pickup artists, far from “solving” the problems with dating they feel aggrieved by, are actually making it more difficult for everyone except themselves by giving women one more reason to be scared and cynical, and men who slip up one more type of monster to be mistaken for.

IV. Autistic women

At first glance, it seems like there’s a choice to be made here, between supporting autistic men who want to be valued as potential romantic and sexual partners and supporting allistic women who just want to be safe. But what I’m realizing more and more is that when there seems to be a conflict between the needs of two marginalized groups, the right choice is generally to avoid picking a side and instead find ways to support both groups. This works well, not only because both groups get what they want, but because if a side must be chosen, the people at the intersection of the two groups will lose both ways.

Autistic women bear the brunt of every part of this mess, as described in detail by Kassiane Asasumasu on her blog, Radical Neurodivergence Speaking (see the links later in this paragraph). Because autistic men fear ableism from neurotypical women, we tend to believe that autistic women are the only partners who will accept us for who we are. As a result, autistic women report being swarmed at autism meetup groups by men looking for a girlfriend, and those men who struggle with independent living are more than willing to escape that by leaning on the patriarchal expectation that the woman does all the chores, even when she is an autistic woman who struggles with the exact same tasks. This means autistic women actually interact with sexist autistic men the most, and not only are they subject to the same toxic shit that allistic women have to deal with, but they’re also expected to “understand” these men and thus endlessly tolerate their (supposedly inevitable) shitty behavior.

V. Solutions

Fortunately, the choice between female safety and autistic desirability is not a choice we have to make, but the solutions are not as simple as members of one or the other group simply choosing to behave differently. Rather, they require the collective participation of all kinds of people.

Addressing autistic male sexism necessarily means addressing sexism. It means respecting when women say no, rather than making it an unpleasant experience they might fear to repeat. It means teaching consent in special education classrooms, so that no one can claim in good faith that an autistic boy who crosses a boundary simply doesn’t know better. It means teaching girls, as they grow into women, that they are under no obligation to tolerate sexist behavior out of sympathy for the sexist man.

But addressing sexism also means supporting boys and men as they escape the confines of conventional masculinity. It means enabling and encouraging them to have close friends of all genders. It means reminding them that they don’t need a woman, any more than a woman needs a man.

In addition to addressing sexism, we need to address the ableism that prevents autistic people from accessing not just dating but emotional closeness of all kinds. We need to stimulate autistic people’s peer relationships at all stages of life. We cannot do this if special ed teachers continue to view us as broken allistic people rather than whole autistic people, nor can we do it if they view us as incomplete adults rather than entire children. If an autistic boy is unable to learn about condoms because it offends the sensibilities of the teacher, or if he is unable to learn how to talk like a teenager because his parents would like him to learn to speak like an adult, then that autistic boy is being deprived both of autonomy and of the opportunity to learn.

Furthermore, we need to teach allistic children how to interact with their autistic peers. Autistic people need no additional incentive to learn how to interact with the societal majority who control their access to jobs, housing, healthcare, education, political representation, and much more. Allistic people can, however, choose not to bother learning how to support and include us and face almost no social consequences beyond not getting to see my cool maps. Rather than alleviating this unequal distribution of incentives, adults generally exacerbate it by focusing only on the social development of autistic children with respect to interactions with allistic people, but not on the social development of allistic children towards being able to interact with autistic people. This is because the prevailing view regarding autism is still that our modes of moving through the world are incorrect and defective, whereas allistic modes of social interaction are viewed as normal and valid even when they exclude others.

The problem of autistic male sexism is hairy and complicated, but if we take the above steps, we can solve it without further stigmatizing autism, and without victim-blaming women. We don’t have to leave anyone behind in this conversation. Rather, by fighting both for autism acceptance and consent culture, we can produce a more just world where everyone gets the love and respect that they deserve.

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onegayastronaut · 5 years

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A Forgotten Spark (Hope Mikealson x Reader)

Requested by anon: Dr. Saltzman has saved Hope from Malivore and she is remembered by everyone etc, she comes back to school hoping to meet you, you were her girlfriend, but when she’s back you remember her BUT you have your humanity switch off. When you forgot her, you felt something was missing from your life and turning your switch off helped so you did. Or just hope helping her girlfriend turn her switch back on would include

Words: 2355

You could feel something was different, you just didn’t know exactly what changed. One minute you were checking your phone waiting for a text from someone, but now, you felt as if a weight had been lifted off your chest. You didn’t know what was worrying you in the first place, so you put down your phone and went about your business.

Coming out of your Vampire Studies class, a post-it note fell out of your notebook. All it said was “Love you babe! Can’t wait for our date tonight.” You frowned as you stared at it. The writing seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place who could have possibly written that and put it in your notebook. Maybe dinner could clear things up. As you ate, the feeling of unexplainable sadness came over you again, and every time someone walked past you, you couldn’t help but look up as if you were waiting for someone. The Salvatore School issued all vampires a rationed out volume of synthetically harvested blood for meals, and you sipped on it discontentedly. You’ve never liked the taste of the fake blood, and you didn’t understand why you were drinking it in the first place. Maybe it was time for you to switch over to something warmer and more delicious.

A week into feeling off, you sat in the Mystic Falls Grill waiting for your usual order of burger and fries to come along when two men started fighting across the bar. You decided to ignore the noise until the sound of a bottle breaking followed by a strong whiff of blood caught your attention. Suddenly, it seemed as if the smell of blood was the only thing you could concentrate on. You closed your eyes and tried to concentrate on something else, and before you knew it, the glass containing your soda shattered in your hand.

“Shit.”

“Don’t worry honey. I’ll go get you a new one.”

“I need to go. I’ll settle the bill later.” You ran out of the bar before the waitress could get another word in. Once you got outside, you ran to an abandoned alley in an attempt to breathe it out. Unfortunately, there was a teenager smoking in the corner. “Get out of here, kid.”

“Nah, I think I’m good here.”

“Get out!” You could feel your eyes darken, and you knew you weren’t supposed to attack this kid, or anyone for that matter. But you were hungry, and you can’t even remember why you were supposed to be upset! Maybe the smart thing to do would be to use one of the advantages of being a vampire—the ability to shut down your humanity and eliminate all the things that were making you sad. After closing your eyes, it was only a matter of seconds before you found the emotional switch to flip off.

“Duuuuude...what are you doing?” The teenager caught your attention again as you opened your eyes. This was much better: no more guilt, no more loneliness over God knows what, and best of all, no more rules holding you back. You barely remember feeding off the teenager, all you could think about was how good his blood tasted as you drank it down. All there was left to do was to dump his body somewhere secluded so you won’t get in trouble with Dr. Saltzman when you got back to school.

Days turned into weeks as you went from class to class. There were days when you simply skipped school altogether so you could run off to a neighboring city to feed. It wasn’t like school was that important anyway, vampires couldn’t age and you could pick right back up wherever you left off when you wanted to. You chose a different city every week so that you could throw off suspicion, and you’ve practiced such that your victims could still walk away from their encounters with you. It wasn’t really due to mercy on your part, it was just that you didn’t want to be locked up in one of those underground vampire dungeons at school. You couldn’t understand why the school was feeding vampires those metallic tasting runny blood bags when the real deal tasted so much better. Anyway, what the schools did was none of your business. The only thing that mattered now was finding a good place to get your next meal.

The only wrinkle to your plan today was MG. Usually, you didn’t mind hanging out with him, but today he was like a fly that you couldn’t get rid of. “You know, I’ve been thinking that the two of us could plan the next school event together. It’ll be fun!”

“I’m sure it will be. I’ve got somewhere to be right now, so if you don’t mind…”

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you later then.” MG looked hurt that you blew him off, but again, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He’ll get over it eventually.

As you made your way over to the next town forty miles away, you were practically salivating over the thought of the meal you were going to have. The local high school seemed to house many delicious looking teenagers, and you couldn’t wait to see if their blood tasted as good as they looked. It took you a shorter time than anticipated to reach your location, and you spotted a tall jock as your meal of choice. Running up to him, you put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him in the eye. “We are going in the woods together. You will not scream or resist until I let you go.”

The boy followed you mutely into a secluded area and you turned to him with your eyes darkened and fangs prepared to bite into his neck. Just as you bit into him, a flood of memories seemed to flash in front of your eyes. A beautiful brunette girl came into your vision, and you saw her going out on dates with you and being romantic. It didn’t take too long for you to remember her name and why you were feeling so sad and empty before. You remember the fact that she was your girlfriend, until she suddenly wasn’t. These memories also reminded you of the fight against Malivore and how Hope had sacrificed herself so that supernatural beings could be safe. You could remember everything now, and again, you could not bring yourself to care. You had spent so much time feeling as if a part of you was missing when she had jumped into Malivore, you were not excited to opening yourself up to any more emotions. Finishing off your meal, you ordered the boy to forget about you and go back to class. You decided it would be best to run back to school before Dr. Saltzman noticed you were gone.

When you got back to school, you decided that keeping a low profile for the moment was most likely the best decision for everyone involved. It wasn’t that you weren’t glad that Hope was back, it’s just that you didn’t have the time or energy to care about anyone else but yourself. As it so happened, your plans for staying off the radar went out the window the moment you tried sneaking into your room. Just when you opened the door, someone rushed at you and enveloped you in a bear hug. You recognized the scent in less than a second, and waited for the hug to be over. It seemed that Hope was waiting for you to come back, but you couldn’t muster up the will to be happy at the fact that she was there in your room.

“(Y/N)! Did you miss me? Of course you did, well you technically couldn’t because everyone was memory-wiped when it came it came to me. But I’m back now, and I’m not going anywhere ever again, I promise! What have you been doing for the last three months? Have you been busy?” Hope stopped talking, and you stared at the ground.

“It’s great that you’re back, But I’m sort of busy right now.”

“Busy with what? Do you want me to come with you?”

You shook your head as you stood by the door. Hope stared at you with narrowed eyes. As she looked at you, she could see that you were still you...but something was wrong. She felt it from the moment she had come into your room and saw that all of your decorations were gone. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was really going on, but she didn’t want to jump to any conclusions before finding out more. So instead of saying anything more, she made a beeline straight to MG’s room.

“MG, I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Hope! I’m so happy you’re back! How are things? Have you talked to (Y/N) yet?”

“I came to ask you about her, actually. Have you noticed anything strange, like has she been acting differently in the time that I’ve been gone?”

“Oh thank God you noticed that too. I think she may have turned her humanity off when you went into Malivore. Before she did she mentioned something about feeling as if there was a part of her missing, but she couldn’t explain it. I guess her turning her humanity switch off was her way of not feeling like someone important to her was missing.” MG hesitated before finishing off that last sentence. He knew that Hope already felt incredibly guilty for all the pain that had happened to those around her, and he didn’t mean to make Hope feel bad about this situation too.

-----

“Dr. Saltzman, we have to talk.”

“About (Y/N)? Yes we do.” Alaric looked up from his paper. “(Y/N) has been sneaking out of school to feed on local residents for months now, and it’s a miracle she hasn’t been caught yet. She has been smart enough such that she has been wiping memories after she’s done, but this cannot continue.”

“I agree. We have to turn her humanity back on.”

“You mean she didn’t turn it on when you went to see her?”

“She practically kicked me out of her room after she got there. All of her decorations are gone, all that’s in her room is her bed and desk. It’s like there’s nobody there anymore.”

“I’ve had experience with vampires who have turned their humanity off, but they have to want to turn it back on. Is there any place you can think of that’s special for both of you? Anything that has a strong emotional impact on her?”

“I think I know a place.”

“Good. Get her there, because the longer she has her humanity turned off, the harder it will be for her to turn it on.”

———

Now that Dr. Saltzman knew that you were hunting humans in the area, life got slightly harder for you. Not only were you now required to have a partner go with you on hunting trips, you were also “asked” to meet Hope after class later on in the day. Even though it had been framed as a question, you could remember enough training sessions with Hope to realize that it would be unwise to ignore her.

When you arrived at the lake pier to meet Hope, you saw that she was already there waiting for you. “What is it, Hope? What’s going on?”

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Closing your eyes, you felt a cloth being put around your eyes. With anyone else, you would have stopped things right there, but you knew you could trust Hope, so you decided to just roll with it. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Maybe. Just relax and let me show you something.” Hope picked you up, and before you knew it, she put you back on the ground again. “You can take the cloth off now.”

When you took off the blindfold, you could tell that Hope had taken you to the place where the two of you always went out on dates. Even though you could remember all the good times you had spent with Hope at this place, you still weren’t interested in turning your humanity switch back on. “Why are we here?”

Hope seemed nervous before she spoke. “I brought you here because I want my girlfriend back. I know I went missing, and --” Hope’s voice broke, and she couldn’t continue. “I should have talked to you before I went into Malivore.”

“I would have stopped you from sacrificing yourself. I could have helped you figure out a way to take out Malivore without you having to do it alone.”

“I know. That’s why I couldn’t tell you what I was going to do. I knew you’d put yourself in danger for me and I couldn’t allow someone else that I love to do that for me.” Hope reached for your hand, and you were surprised that you didn’t want to withdraw from her. Maybe having someone who didn’t want to avoid you wasn’t so bad after all. “I need you to turn your switch back on, (Y/N). I know you don’t want to, but please. I miss you, MG misses you. Even Lizzie told me that not having you to plan events with is boring now.”

As Hope stepped closer to you, the wind blew in your direction causing you to be able to smell her shampoo. You didn’t know just how much you missed waking up in the morning and burying your face in her hair, and it seemed like the natural next step to turn your humanity switch back on. The moment you did, a flood of emotions went through your mind, and you couldn’t help a few tears from coming out.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“I just missed you so much.” Your crying caused your words to be nearly unintelligible, but you didn’t care because all that mattered was that Hope was back with you.

“I know babe. I’m never leaving you again, I promise.”

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson imagine #hope mikaelson x reader #Legacies #legacies x reader #legacies imagine

246 notes · View notes

gb-fics · 4 years

Text

Protective Shield

Fanfiction:

Kiryuuin Shou x Kyan Yutaka (Golden Bomber)

Note: This story is loosely based on the song “Boku no sekai wo mamotte” (ぼくの世界を守って) from Golden Bomber’s new album! There will be fics for all the songs I didn’t write about yet eventually, at least that’s the plan (^-^) I’m sorry for the large blocks of text in this one, I hope it’s readable. Oh right, and Happy New Year, everyone!

Shou did not stagger out of the bathroom. He did not, however, walk exactly elegantly either. Shou wasn’t drunk. He had managed to change into pyjamas and brush his teeth and he had only hit his big toe against the bathtub in the process once. Shou wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t, however, completely sober either.

He switched off the bathroom lights and stepped into the hotel room.

“Going out for drinks was a mistake”, he announced loudly and walked over to his bed.

His bed was occupied.

Shou stared down onto the invader, who had made himself comfortable under his blanket.

“It’s fine”, Yutaka mumbled back sleepily. “We have a day off tomorrow before the next concert.”

“This is my bed”, Shou said.

He wished he’d be sharing a room with Kenji or Jun instead. They were currently drunk, too, but they never ended up in the wrong bed. Yutaka had ended up in the entirely wrong room before. He was that kind of person.

“It was a choice forced upon me by the circumstances”, Yutaka said and rolled onto his back.

He looked surprisingly awake.

“Get out of my bed”, Shou said.

He had the feeling that he wasn’t engaging in the most intelligent conversation right now, but he just really wanted to sleep. Or rather, he wanted to lie down. His head was spinning.

“Take mine”, Yutaka offered. “I’m too lazy to move.”

Shou sighed and turned around.

“There is a suitcase on my bed. Just take it down”, Yutaka called after him.

Shou stared at Yutaka’s bed. He now understood what circumstances he had been referring to. There was a suitcase on Yutaka’s bed. The suitcase wasn’t the problem, though. The problem was, that its insides were spilled out all over the mattress. He spotted shirts, socks, manga, a hair dryer, a pack of condoms (a pack condoms, for fuck’s sake?), one orange, two chocolate bars, a dog toy and the remote of Yutaka’s tv at home. He gave up.

Shou turned around, pulled back the blanket and lay down next to Yutaka.

“I have a lot of questions about your packing habits, but I will ask them tomorrow”, he stated.

“Me too”, Yutaka sighed. “I only packed left socks for some reason. Wonder how sober me will explain that in the morning.”

Shou chuckled.

The light overhead was still switched on. One of them would have to get up to turn it off. Shou had the bad feeling that it would be him.

“How do you even survive?”, Shou asked and shook his head.

Although he was lying down now, he still regretted the motion. The world seemed less firm than usual. It just didn’t stay in one place for too long.

“I’ll forward the question to sober me as well”, Yutaka promised.

Shou laughed again.

He could feel Yutaka’s bare arm against his own. He remembered now why he hadn’t been pleased to find Yutaka in his bed to begin with. He felt weird in his presence whenever he drank. Sometimes also when he didn’t drink. But more so after the intake of alcohol.

Truth was, Shou felt sexually aroused finding Yutaka that close to himself. It wasn’t the strong sexual arousal, where he got a solid hard-on. It wasn’t like watching porn. It was like seeing a pack of tissues. His body was conditioned to get lowkey excited. It didn’t mean he was sexually attracted to tissues, though. It didn’t mean he was attracted to Yutaka.

Shou rolled to his side, so he was looking at Yutaka.

Sometimes, Shou wondered if maybe he was attracted to Yutaka, though.

He watched his profile. He loved the curve of Yutaka’s eyebrows and that deep line beneath his eyes, that showed when he smiled. He loved the soft looking shape of his nose and his almost-even-but-not-quite front teeth. He loved the idea of kissing him, too.

“Hey, Shou”, Yutaka said and rolled to his side as well. They were facing each other now.

“Hm?”

Shou wasn’t sure on the matter of his sexuality. He liked women. He liked women a lot. Unfortunately, women did not like Shou back all that much. And sometimes, when he got tipsy, he liked men, too. But he wasn’t sure if that meant he was bisexual or just really, really desperate.

He thought of kissing Yutaka now. But Yutaka was so close and his body felt so warm and alive and human and Shou hadn’t kissed any women in a long time. It probably meant nothing aside from the fact that he was lonely. Because if he really was bisexual, he would think about it, when he was sober, too. But usually he didn’t. There was the possibility, that alcohol connected him with his true inner self. Shou found it easier to admit to his feelings and to tell people they were important to him, when he was drunk. He never regretted those words the next morning. He just wished speaking up was always that easy. But then his judgement wasn’t always quite clear, when he was drunk. He hit his toes on the bathtub for example. He wasn’t sure if Yutaka was a feeling of love he couldn’t admit to, or a hurting toe, because he had misjudged the distance between them.

There was however, the thing about the crushes. It was something Shou had been aware of from his early teenage years on onwards. He had never been with a man like he had been with a woman. He had always crushed on men as easily as he did on women, though. The fluttering in his chest when they messaged him was the same, the amount of time he spent on choosing the right outfit before meeting them was the same. But he had always assumed it was because he developed crushes fast in general. He had a soft spot for kindness. Someone did something nice for him, someone made him a compliment, someone messaged him first three times in a row – and Shou was infatuated. He hated that character trait in himself, because he had always viewed it as weakness. Usually, he didn’t allow himself to give in to it. He ignored the people on purpose, started to keep his distance, because he knew that those gestures meant more to him than they meant to them. He couldn’t bear getting hurt, but he couldn’t stop the fluttering in his chest, either. He had learned to ignore it, when he couldn’t prevent it.

The crushes he got on men didn’t come with the same sexual desire as the crushes on women did, though. They stayed on a more theoretical level. He thought of kissing them sometimes, he thought of receiving oral sex sometimes, but never of giving. But then again, he hadn’t thought so much about those things with women, either, when he was younger. Not before they had actually happened to him, or at least before he had watched a certain amount of porn on the matter. And the porn Shou watched was usually straight porn. He had tried his hands on gay porn before – quite literally so. It had excited him the same way that straight porn did. But he had figured that it didn’t mean much, because it was bodies and penises and holes and pounding and moaning, and the difference really wasn’t that big, so there was no shame in getting excited.

He wasn’t being quite honest, though, if he claimed not to think about sex with men. Because he did think about it. But it was normal to think about that kind of stuff. Shou thought a lot about sex in general. It was only natural that curiosity slipped in bits and pieces here and there. He had to admit, that if someone had confronted him directly, he would have to confess that he thought about sex with men – the full program, penises, butts, the taste of cum in his mouth – several times a week. And he also had to admit, that had someone else made that confession to him, he would have deemed it pretty fucking gay. But compared to the time he spent fantasizing about sex with women, it really wasn’t that much of an issue. 1 to 4, he’d say.

Shou had figured, that the only way of coming clean with his sexuality, was to try being with a man. Sexually, romantically. But mostly sexually. If it was mere curiosity, he would realize that it wasn’t for him and he would return to thinking about women 100% of the time. Or he would realize that he enjoyed being with a man just as much as being with a woman and the percentage would shift to 50/50.

Those considerations only blew up in his mind, when he was drunk, though. When he was sober, he thought that 1 to 4 wasn’t really that dramatic, and that it was more like 1 to 6 anyway. Also, being heterosexual was just more convenient. Even if the people around you accepted it in the end, you would still have to tell them. Dating a man would be so complicated. His family maybe wouldn’t burn his birth certificate in front of his eyes, but they would give him the look. And wasn’t it a little late to change his mind anyway? He was 35 years old already. People would think he was joking. Or having a midlife-crisis. Shou had grown so used to being straight, he’d like to stay that way.

Aside from maybe being bisexual, there was also the possibility, that he was in love with Kyan Yutaka. Shou preferred to not pay it any further thought.

“Jo, Shou”, Yutaka said.

“Hm?”, Shou repeated.

“You were spacing out completely.”

Shou made a face.

“It’s the alcohol”, he explained. “Too many thoughts.”

Yutaka’s face was close. He was drunk, too, but less drunk than Shou. Shou could not imagine there was anyone in the world more drunk than himself currently.

His feelings towards Yutaka were complicated. Because he loved Yutaka – he was sure about that, even if he wasn’t always sure about the way in which he did. But he also hated him. Because he was handsome in a way that Shou would never be handsome. He was carefree in a way that Shou would never be carefree. He was good with people, where Shou stuttered through social interactions. He seemed to be better at living than Shou was, just in general.

He remembered the first time he had realized it. It was the first time he had visited Yutaka at his own place after they had both moved out from home. Yutaka had prepared dinner for both of them. He had chopped vegetables. And that was all it had taken. Yutaka would continue to cook on his free days. And he would get married and maybe have kids. And he would help in the kitchen at least on the weekends and he would play baseball in the garden and he would treat the band like it was a regular job, where it was Shou’s entire life. Because Shou would never be able to build anything else for himself. He was busy dragging a heavy weight along with himself, that didn’t seem to last on Yutaka’s shoulders. And carrying that weight would use up all his energy and writing songs and staying alive was really all he could aim for. And it was the first time, too, that he decided to put his feelings towards Yutaka into words, the first time he had realized what was keeping him apart from people like Yutaka. All that frustration and anger and jealousy, that longing for a life he would never achieve. And love. Love towards Yutaka as well, because he had chosen to be in that kitchen with Shou. He knew about that weight and had chosen Shou, where Shou wouldn’t even choose himself.

“You always have too many thoughts”, Yutaka said softly. “What are you thinking about now?”

“Men”, Shou said.

Yutaka snorted.

Their bodies were not touching at all. The blanket was a little too small for them, lying that far apart. Shou’s back felt cold.

“Sometimes, when I drink, I think I’m bi”, Yutaka said.

Shou rolled his eyes and laughed quietly.

“I know”, he said.

He did know. Because Yutaka had told him about every man he had ever kissed. The list wasn’t exactly long, but at least it was a list. Yutaka was curious by nature and other than Shou, he was bold enough to follow through with that curiosity. It hadn’t come as a surprise to Shou when Yutaka first told him he had kissed a guy “just to try”. He wasn’t in a position to judge, either. Of course, he had been jealous. Jealous that Yutaka had tried with someone else, someone who wasn’t Shou. But he hadn’t been able to actually blame him for it. Yutaka was good looking and incredible charming. He could kiss men more attractive than Shou. And a part of him knew, that it was his own fault, too. That he was tense and his awkwardness kept people at bay – even Yutaka, whom he felt closer to than pretty much anyone else. Shou was the one who needed space. Even if Yutaka had wanted to kiss him, he’d wait for Shou to do it first. Shou had never gathered the courage for it, though.

He was jealous, too, that it was another thing that came to Yutaka so easily. Whenever he questioned his sexuality, he went out and tried. He wasn’t sent spinning into an identity crisis like Shou. The weight on his shoulders was so heavy, it sometimes seemed too easy to lose the person beneath it.

“I also think I’m bi, whenever I drink.”

Yutaka nodded. His cheeks were red and flushed. It always happened to him when he drank, even if otherwise he didn’t get tipsy at all. The colour of his face betrayed him.

“I know”, Yutaka said.

He did know. Because even if he did not talk about it openly, Shou was bad at hiding the crushes he developed. His face lit up, whenever his mobile buzzed.

“But like – you can imagine having sex with a dude?”, Yutaka assured.

Shou knew very well that this was where Yutaka’s confidence started to crumble. He liked looking at men and he liked kissing them and he had some horrific detailed fantasies about threesomes – which he didn’t mind sharing with his bandmembers. But being one on one with a man was a line he did not intend to cross.

“Absolutely”, Shou said.

He hadn’t meant to sound that confident, but ¼ of his sexual daydreams were backing him up.

For a moment, Yutaka looked astonished. Shou cursed the alcohol making him sound that confident. Flirting with the idea when drunk was one thing. Openly admitting to thinking about gay sex was another. Even Yutaka would judge him now.

But then his expression relaxed and Yutaka was grinning widely.

“Well, everybody seems to be bisexual nowadays, don’t they?”, he said lightly.

Shou thought of the Romans and the Greeks and the Samurai. Hadn’t it been the normal state of things in many cultures before? He wasn’t much of a history geek, but to him, it seemed to make sense that humans wanted to be with humans. Skin and sweat and acceptance and love and sex and anything that wasn’t loneliness. Gender didn’t matter much in the end. He imagined Yutaka in a toga.

It was society, that made them believe in heterosexuality, he assumed. The books and the movies and the commercials and not wanting to explain that certain kind of porn magazines to your parents. Sometimes Shou thought that being gay was easier. Society told you: Here, look, women, you are supposed to like them. But if you didn’t like them, you noticed there was something wrong early on. The problem was, that Shou really, really liked women. He had never questioned the system, because he fit into it well enough. Just lately, there was a change. The internet made it possible to take a look outside of Japan. Acceptance was rising. It wasn’t rising everywhere, but if you looked at the right places, you saw it anyway. Shou had become more aware of the system itself. He had started to question it. It was a really exhausting process and sometimes he wished, he could just go back. He was tired of not knowing who he was anymore.

“I guess”, he said.

Yutaka gave him a small smile. His smile spread more slowly when he was drunk.

Shou smiled back.

He forgot how easy it was to talk to Yutaka. How he was never judging Shou for anything; not for his sexuality, not for always thinking too much and not for often feeling so down and heavy, he could hardly take another step. Yutaka was like a safe space, a small corner of the world, in which Shou didn’t have to be scared for a change. That was, why he wrote songs about him, too. Because Yutaka never judged him for it. Shou had written songs about women before, too. He had watched them at his own apartment, studied them, their motions, thought about his feelings for them. Shou was big on thinking. But whenever they caught him staring for too long, they scolded him and, in the end, they always left. Yutaka, though, never minded. He didn’t scold him when Shou watched him chop vegetables and went quiet, because he was making up songs about feeling insufficient for life and feeling jealous and wanting to be a person he could not be. He didn’t mind when Shou watched him apply makeup, back when they could not always afford stylists. Yutaka had a funny habit of leaving his mouth open while putting on concealer, and it made Shou think of how he wanted to be prettier himself, and how he liked Yutaka better without makeup, because he didn’t have to share that version of him with the fans. Yutaka allowed him to space out in bed next to him right now, because he knew about all the worries chasing each other through Shou’s mind constantly. Sometimes, Shou thought that he was only able to make up songs about Yutaka, because he was the only person, in whose presence Shou knew who he was. Everyone else never gave him the time to think about his feelings, when he watched them. They expected him to interact with them like a normal, social human being. But when he was with Yutaka, Shou felt calm enough to put his emotions into words for himself. Those words ended up in songs, and writing songs was the only thing that kept Shou sane. Yutaka was his protective shield. Without him, he’d given up trying to cope long ago.

“You are beautiful”, he mumbled, a wave of affection washing over him.

He reached out, putting his hand against Yutaka’s cheek kind of clumsily. Even his jealousy towards Yutaka was complicated. Shou envied him for his charming good looks, but he didn’t begrudge him. Usually, he didn’t feel the need to be prettier himself. The other person being uglier than him would do. That was what jealousy normally meant to him. But with Yutaka, he’d be fine, just being the second prettiest person in the room. He didn’t want to be better than Yutaka. He just wanted to be good enough for him.

Yutaka kept smiling, watching Shou with clear, dark eyes. Shou realized that Yutaka was nowhere as drunk as himself. Shou had drunken too much tonight, because he had felt sad. He often felt sad, but tonight he hadn’t been able to bear it.

He kept his hand against Yutaka’s cheek.

“Well, thank you. You are always so much nicer when you drink”, Yutaka teased.

He was speaking more quietly than usual. Due to the alcohol, probably. His energy level seemed low as well. He was using his sleepy voice.

“It’s true”, Shou insisted.

Sometimes, he wondered if maybe Yutaka was the love of his life. Because no matter whom else he wrote songs about, he always came back to Yutaka. He had fallen in love with women. He had been heart-broken by women. But in the end, he had always gotten over it. He had never gotten over Yutaka, though. Whenever he looked at his eyes up close like this; whenever they had an honest (if drunk) conversation like tonight, he felt infatuated again. And he wanted to write songs about him again. About the nervousness of being this close to him. About his annoying habits when they shared a room. About how he wanted to tell him about all of his own insecurities, although he had sworn not to bother anyone with them. And Shou thought of how they said this about first love. That you never really got over it. That it was the one person you could not forget. Maybe the girls before he met Yutaka didn’t really matter, because he had indeed gotten over them. But if this was love, he had never loved anyone else, not really at least. Because what he felt for Yutaka was different from anything, he had ever considered romance.

Yutaka’s cheek was hot against his palm. Shou knew that he should definitely let go by now. Yutaka didn’t seem to mind that Shou had long since missed the point of making the touch feel casual.

Shou wanted to kiss him.

He wanted to do it, because he wanted to know what kissing men in general would feel like. And if he tried, he wanted to try with Yutaka. Because he loved Yutaka and he didn’t have to be afraid of being judged by him. And because he was beautiful.

But he didn’t dare.

Because Shou was naturally awkward, and because he was more drunk than Yutaka and was scared of molesting him and also because Yutaka was his best friend and his bandmember and also because he felt like Yutaka was out of his league. If Yutaka wanted to kiss someone looking like Shou, he would have done so before. But he had kissed handsome strangers instead. That was really all Shou needed to know.

He hoped Yutaka understood, that the hand against his cheek meant all that.

Shou knew that he was allowed to kiss Yutaka. Because Yutaka had kissed men before and had no problem knowing that Shou wanted to kiss men, too. Even if he did not want to kiss Shou specifically, he would be gentle about it. He would let it happen, then he would pull back and whisper “you are drunk” or something similar that would count as an excuse and that would not make it feel weird in the morning. Because Yutaka loved Shou. It was strange to acknowledge that, because Shou was not good at accepting love in general. There were a few people in his life, though, of which he believed that they loved him. They all loved aspects of him, though. They loved him due to the circumstances. His family loved him. But they loved him as a son, as a brother. They loved him as something that had happened to them. Jun and Kenji surely loved him, too. But they loved him as a bandleader, as a friend who had opened up possibilities to them. They maybe loved his humour, too, and his kindness. He had other friends as well, who loved him for a certain quality. They loved him because they could talk about music. Someone else loved him, because they had the same taste in movies. The fans loved him, too. But they loved only the sides of him that he presented to them in public. Some loved him for his silliness, some for what they saw in his lyrics. Shou did not doubt their love like he did not doubt that his parents loved him. It was based on a role that Shou played for them, though. Son, artist, idol. Just with Yutaka he didn’t act. Yutaka did not only know about his humour; he also knew about the sadness he dragged along with himself. He did not only care for his music, but also for what he had to say. Sometimes, it seemed surprising to Shou that Yutaka knew him so well and had still picked him as a friend and vocalist of his band. He was the reason that Shou believed he actually had something to offer to the world. Yutaka was the only person who had ever chosen Shou for who he was. He was the one person who would not push him away.

But he needed Yutaka to know that he could not do it anyway.

All that knowledge wasn’t enough to make Shou feel brave.

All that Shou could do, was to touch Yutaka’s cheek and hope he understood the question Shou was asking silently.

Yutaka leaned in and kissed him.

Shou flinched and pulled back his hand immediately.

It hadn’t been a long kiss, just soft, dry lips brushing against his own.

“What do you think you are doing?”, he asked.

“Sorry”, Yutaka said. “It was the mood.”

He did not sound sorry. He also didn’t look like he was.

“That didn’t feel nearly as weird as I expected”, he added.

Shou wanted to cross the arms in front of himself, closing down on Yutaka physically. He couldn’t do so very well in his current position, though. He shifted slightly, but it did not help. The blanket shifted, too. His back was still cold.

“Why would you do that, if you thought it would feel weird?”, he huffed.

That was so typical for Yutaka. Shou had so many thoughts, they seemed to freeze him, until it was impossible to take any action anymore. Yutaka had only few thoughts. And he managed to ignore even those.

“And why would you think it’s weird?”, he added, feeling slightly offended by the assumption.

If Yutaka had kissed guys before, why would it be weird with Shou? They were friends after all. Good friends. If anything, it should be less weird.

“Ah, you know”, Yutaka said and his grin looked funny, tilted to the side with his cheek against the pillow. “I thought you’d punch me or something. You are so tense about those things. Like, I’m not even allowed to do it on stage, although you know the fans would love it.”

“It’s different on stage”, Shou said defensively. “I don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

Yutaka raised his eyebrows at him. He raised them really high.

Shou had to admit that they had given people the wrong idea for quite some time already.

He huffed once more and turned his head away slightly.

He didn’t know how it was possible he had given Yutaka that impression. It was true that he wasn’t the most relaxed person, but it shouldn’t make the thought of kissing him impossible. Yutaka knew Shou loved him as a friend. Yutaka knew that Shou felt curious about guys. So, how had he reached the conclusion that Shou would be angry, if Yutaka kissed him? That Shou would make it weird?

He had to admit he wasn’t doing such a great job at not making it weird currently. Yutaka had done exactly what Shou had wanted him to do. He had kissed him. Now, Shou was acting offended.

“Well, you are right. It wasn’t weird”, Yutaka confirmed once more and then he just leaned in and kissed him again.

Shou pressed his lips shut. It was another short and dry kiss. It didn’t last long enough for him to focus on what Yutaka’s lips really felt like.

“Just because it didn’t feel weird isn’t a reason to do it again!”, he scolded as soon as Yutaka pulled back.

Yutaka laughed really quietly.

“I just needed to make sure it really is not weird”, he said. “Anyway, what would be a reason to do it again?”

“Well.” Shou made a gesture with his arms that he regretted immediately, because it pushed the blanket off his shoulder. His whole upper body was now feeling cold. “You only do something again, if it feels good, right?”, he said angrily.

He hated how Yutaka’s thoughts didn’t make sense sometimes. Admittedly, Shou had enough thoughts for two people already, but he wished not to be left alone with them.

In his mind, he was already writing songs about it. Because Shou didn’t really know how he felt about the situation. He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t excited either. He mostly felt angry and overwhelmed and annoyed that Yutaka seemed to be better at handling this as well. Shou was not build for living, he concluded. There was a serious construction error somewhere in his programming. If he just wrote about it, maybe things would become clearer to him.

“Alright”, Yutaka said. “It felt good then.”

Shou was expecting the kiss this time and out of curiosity leaned into it. It lasted longer and Yutaka shuffled closer. Shou could sense his body against his own. It felt different from a female body, less soft and less curvy, but aside from that it felt pretty much the same. He kept his eyes closed.

At the back of his head, a voice kept commenting. Shou wondered if everyone had this voice, that told them how they felt. That observed how Yutaka’s lips felt a little chopped and how he should maybe add more pressure to the kiss, or possibly lessen the pressure and how he should maybe open his lips or rather keep them closed. And the voice told him that he felt insecure and he wondered if everyone felt that insecure when kissing another person for the first time. And it reminded him of his first meeting with Yutaka and how he had never expected this to happen. Shou seemed to watch himself, and people used to say this happened during a traumatic experience, but to Shou it happened all the time. It happened when he kissed Yutaka back and it happened when he ate ice cream (stinging at his teeth, too cold to actually be sweet, the flavour only coming out once it melted on his tongue. How did people never talk about the fact that ice cream didn’t taste sweet from the very beginning?) and it happened when he was alone in the dark of night and tried to find words for that feeling that wasn’t quite sadness and wasn’t quite numbness, but something in between that just kept him from feeling happy.

Shou opened his eyes and Yutaka pulled back.

It had been a nice kiss, but Shou hadn’t been able to enjoy it. His mind kept racing. He wasn’t sure if he would be happier if he was able to put less distance between him and the things happening. Or if maybe he would break, if the distance disappeared, because the happiness would become happier, but the sadness would become sadder, too, and Shou was hardly able to handle the sadness now as it was.

“You know, I thought about something”, Shou said.

Yutaka grinned.

“What a surprise”, he said.

“Why left socks?”, Shou asked. “I mean, you can wear socks on both feet, right? It’s not like shoes. Even if it’s the wrong sock, it will still fit. Why would that be an issue?”

For a moment, Yutaka just stared at him. He didn’t even blink.

Then he burst out laughing.

Shou’s chest felt lighter immediately. The atmosphere felt less tense suddenly, as if a window had been opened, allowing in fresh air all of a sudden. Laughter was the only thing that made Shou stop observing himself for at least a short while. Maybe that was why he tried to be funny all the time. He wanted to lift the weight of other people’s shoulders.

Yutaka rolled onto his back, his chest heaving with laughter.

“I can’t believe you were thinking about my socks right now”, Yutaka stated. “But if you have to know – the problem is mainly, that now I don’t have enough socks with me at all. I’ll need to find a washing machine soon.”

“You forgot to bring enough socks”, Shou said and shook his head in disbelieve. “But you brought condoms.”

That observation had been bothering him for a while already. Was Yutaka planning to have sex with anyone during the tour? He was sharing a room with Shou! Did that mean he considered having sex with Shou during the tour? That thought was frightening. Or was he thinking of leaving him behind and finding a girl by chance? That thought was maddening. Or had he packed them by sheer accident, like the remote of his tv? That thought was disappointing.

“Duh”, Yutaka said. “I can’t wear condoms on my feet, though, can I?”

“Is that a challenge?”, Shou asked and rolled over, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed as if he intended to get up.

The motions didn’t cause a major discomfort anymore, but he still felt slightly dizzy when sitting up too fast.

“Oi, stay!”, Yutaka shouted and grabbed hold of Shou’s arm laughingly. He pulled him back and Shou let himself sink into the pillows again.

Yutaka snuggled close and pressed a gentle kiss against Shou’s temple.

“You have too many thoughts going on in that big head of yours”, he said. “So much space, and still you manage to make it crowded up there.”

Shou shrugged. He felt awful, just because Yutaka was so good at comforting him. He wished he could do the same for him, but in terms of friendship, Yutaka had definitely come off second best. Shou tried to be there for him, because Yutaka got sad, too. But there was always a reason for Yutaka’s sadness, that was what made them different. Yutaka had been sad when his parents urged him to get a job. He had been sad after break-ups. He had been sad over fights with friends. But he usually wasn’t sad like Shou, who just couldn’t bring himself to feel happy with his life and with himself, although he could see that technically there was nothing wrong with them. Now and then, Shou wondered if there was medication that might help him. But then he wasn’t even sure what the medication was supposed to do. Make the numbness disappear and make him feel things more clearly? Or dim his feelings to a level that was finally bearable? He didn’t even know if he wanted to feel more or if he wanted to feel less. Both was tiring and sometimes, he just wished for it to be over. Yutaka would be hurt, but he would get over it. Shou had always needed Yutaka more than Yutaka needed him. He didn’t know how he would explain it to his family, but then again, it wouldn’t be his problem anymore. And the fans. They would feel hurt, but they would move on to someone else. Yutaka and Kenji and Jun, they would take care of them. And after him, there would be other artists to follow. It wouldn’t be the end of the world for anyone but Shou.

But then he thought of all the songs he hadn’t written yet. There was so much music in his head, still, and so many words. He needed to write about tonight, too. Because he was confused about his feelings, but if he put them into words properly, maybe he would understand them. And maybe he would feel better then. Maybe, he would feel less sad already, as soon as he was sober again. And if he managed to find the right words, maybe he could explain himself to Yutaka as well. Because Shou couldn’t tell him how he felt right now. But if he turned it into a song, Yutaka might understand what he couldn’t explain to him now. In the end, Shou had only ever wanted to explain his thoughts to Yutaka, the rest of the world was just an extra. He knew that some people understood what he wanted to express with his songs and that it actually helped them. Shou wanted to help them. But the secret was that he didn’t try to explain himself to strangers. He tried to explain himself to only one person, someone whom he loved and whom he trusted, and the fans could sense that. They could feel the honesty and the vulnerability, because Shou shared with them what was only meant for Yutaka.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“Just tell me what you need right now”, Yutaka said softly.

Shou opened his eyes again, without looking at him. He was staring at the ceiling instead.

“I need time to think. I need to sleep. I need to think some more tomorrow, when my thoughts are clear and I know it’s not just the alcohol thinking for me”, he said.

He expected Yutaka to say something funny or to scold him or to grow impatient with him like everyone seemed to grow impatient with Shou sooner or later. Shou wasn’t a slow thinker. That was the problem. He thought fast and the thoughts kept coming, one after another and another and another. And in between, Shou got lost, because some of those thoughts were contradicting each other and some were questions he couldn’t find an answer to. Shou wanted to know if he actually felt attracted to men, or if he was just so lonely, he adjusted his standards. He wanted to know, if he was in love with Kyan Yutaka, or if he just lacked acceptance in himself so much, that he mistook honest friendship for something else too easily. He wanted to know if he was numb or sad and if the thoughts were his problem or the emotions. He wanted to know who he was. He wanted to write songs about everything on his mind, because maybe then the voices would finally go quiet and if he just put everything into words properly, maybe Shou would finally be at peace.

“Okay”, Yutaka agreed without hesitation. He got up on his side of the bed.

The sheets suddenly felt colder and Shou was scared of being left alone. He was aware that it was illogical, because he usually needed a lot of space and because he hated not being able to turn around freely while falling asleep and because he was not used to sharing the bed with anyone, since he had slept alone most of his adult life, but fact was, that he slept so much better with someone by his side. A lot of people had told him before that it was the part, they hated most about relationships – having to share their bed. And Shou wasn’t exactly cuddly either. For him, it didn’t have to be an embrace. He didn’t need to fall asleep in someone’s arms. But just a light touch, an arm against his, an elbow against his back, and he drifted off to slumber when usually it took him hours to stop the thoughts and finally get some rest. Maybe it was a primal instinct that most humans had lost already but that Shou was still holding on to. The feeling of having someone next to him made him feel calm and protected and the touch of another made him feel safe. He didn’t want Yutaka to leave.

“Don’t go”, he said quietly.

“Don’t worry”, Yutaka said with a cheeky grin. “I’m far too lazy to clear my bed anyway. I will just switch off the lights.”

Shou followed him through the room with his eyes. When Yutaka turned the switch, it was completely black around him for a moment. His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet. Obviously, Yutaka’s eyes hadn’t adjusted to it yet, either, because Shou heard a loud clattering and Yutaka swearing under his breath.

He chuckled at the sound of it. Then Yutaka reached the bed and Shou felt him slip under the blanket. There was a lot of pulling and tearing until both of them were covered, but finally, Shou felt cosy enough.

Yutaka had rolled over, turning his back on Shou.

Shou reached out, putting his hand against Yutaka’s back lightly. They were not touching in any other way, but for Shou it was enough to know that he was there. It felt good to sense him close and still keep his personal space.

He closed his eyes and slowly, his breath became even.

He felt safe. He felt as if Yutaka was shielding him for the outside world. This close to him, Shou existed in his own realm. It was his own private part of the world, where he was able to collect his thoughts. Here, he was able to turn those overwhelming, downweighing thoughts into songs. Because, in the end, he wrote all his songs about Yutaka. About him chopping vegetables and about him applying makeup and about him drunk kissing Shou in a hotel room. And he wrote all of his songs for Yutaka, because he wanted to be understood by him of all people. He wanted to apologize to him and he wanted to explain how life made him feel and he wanted to tell him how much Yutaka meant to him. And as long as he hadn’t found the words yet, Shou still had something that kept him going. A desire to be understood and the hope that he made others feel understood, too, somewhere along the way. And as long as he hadn’t found the words yet, Shou’s world didn’t end. Yutaka protected it.

#Golden Bomber #Kiryuuin Shou #Kyan Yutaka #kirikyan #fanfiction #fanfic #I considered adding more paragraphs but I wanted to illustrate how overwhelming and crowded Kirisho's thoughts feel

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emeraldtawny · 5 years

Text

Drug Dealer!AU Blanc & Oliver: Mitigation

...hey, it’s been a while ghrodktergrdg. I’ve been sitting on this idea for a bit wondering how to bring it to life and...I may have...accidentally planned out the entire direction I want this story to go?? WOO!

As always, the rundown of this AU can be found here if you’re unfamiliar or need a quick recap. Otherwise, enjoy~

There were few things that could rattle the esteemed heir to the Lapin family name - their history of unshakable tenacity dating back to its earliest records. But none of them had ever faced an obstacle of this magnitude, thus the sole successor allowed himself some self-pity in these moments of dread.

“Mr Lapin! Mr Lapin!! The drug cartel in this city has gotten even more out of hand. Some people are suggesting that the dealers for Magic Crystals have doubled this month alone! How are you planning to fix this?”

He flashes a grin that would pacify most, his rose-gold eyes narrowing amiably - just shy of irritation - as he turns back to the reporter hot on his heels.

“There has been no such confirmation, so they are baseless rumours made to stir up trouble as far as that goes. The police are working day and night to hunt down the smaller dealers as well as the one behind all of this. I’m afraid all I can ask of you is to wait patiently.”

“But there has been talk of corruption among authorities, many being bribed to stay silent or taking Crystals themselves. And those aren’t just ‘baseless rumours’, Mr Lapin.”

(I have to give this young man credit for his dedication to the job. I only wish his attack was not directed at me.)

He walks briskly as the sun creeps eerily behind the surrounding buildings, lamp posts bursting to life to provide illumination for the rabbit being chased by his news-hungry predator.

“That I am aware of. We are making preparations with the police - with officers we are certain are clean - to begin dealing with those corrupt officers. Unfortunately, I don’t have as much power as you think I do, so my reach can only go so far.”

“As the man in charge here, don’t you think it’s callous of you to deter blame for this? The Clemences are under suspicion for dealing Crystals to the high-class public, the Godspeeds are remaining neutral in this entire fiasco, and no one has trusted the Kingsleys in years. You’re the only pillar of stability we have left in this city, so how about you start standing on it and helping us out?!”

“You--!”

(You don’t think I’m trying to do that?!)

The unbecoming retort on the tip of his tongue is cut short by another voice, harsh and cutting like a winter’s gale, especially in contrast to Blanc’s warm and honeyed tone.

“Don’t you think you’re being unfair to the only man in this city actually trying to combat this? And don’t you dare try to say you’re helping this city out by ‘doing your job’. A reporter is about as useful as a lead balloon.”

Dressed down in a casual white long-sleeved button-up shirt and black pants, yet still sporting his recognisable silk hat, he steps out from the shadows of a nearby building, the lamp post’s light cutting through him and shining its light on only half of his frame.

“A-and who are you?” The reporter retorts, the shakiness in his voice unable to be quelled.

“Just someone who also wants this city to be free of pests. But believe me when I say that antagonising the only viable option left is the worst possible thing you can do. Go back to the papers and scream about the ‘youth ruining the economy’ or whatever the hell has your knickers in a twist this month.”

The venom laced in his words is potent - far from subtle - and makes the young man quiver as he turns to run with his tail between his legs. Blanc lets out a soft sigh of relief before he feels those metallic eyes turn their daggers onto him.

“I thought I said to be back before dusk to avoid this very issue, you mangy rabbit.”

He lets a laugh escape him, though he doesn’t try to mask the clear fatigue in the gesture; he was comfortable enough letting his long-time friend see him weak when the public couldn’t, for the sake of his image as a figurehead for the city.

“My apologies, Oliver. It won’t happen again. Although, I honestly can’t deny how pertinent this chance meeting with that reporter was.”

Oliver raises a brow, his intrigue disguised by aggravation to all except Blanc. “And just what do you mean by that?”

The click of Blanc’s oxfords seems to reverberate through the empty street as he steps past Oliver.

“Perhaps this information will be better relayed in private?”

With a throaty grumble through pursed lips, Oliver catches up to Blanc in a few long strides, the two men walking in silence. Yet somehow, they fail to notice the hooded figure lurking a few buildings back, the Crystal’s potent effect letting him hear every word of their conversation, eyes of blood and gold resolved to deliver this information.

---

Behind the closed doors of the Lapin estate, the two retreat even further into the house’s infrastructure to enter through a simple wooden door that’s so remarkably out of place amidst the ornate decor. Flicking on the light, Blanc sighs as he removes his coat and places it neatly over the back of a chair, Oliver following in behind and shutting the door to their ‘workshop’.

Paper is scattered loosely across the table’s surface, the oak brown replaced by sheer white. On the far wall is a pinboard, various faces stuck onto its surface alongside meticulously detailed notes of each profile. It’s a scene ripped straight from a buddy cop scenario, the only missing element being the comedy.

Blanc and Oliver stand before the table littered with sheets of paper, both sets of eyes roaming over their sporadic evidence, notes scribbled down with the sole purpose of documentation over organisation. Oliver pulls free a cigarette and a lighter from his pants pocket. He coaxes the stick of nicotine to life and inhales a long drag, his expulsion of the smoke seeming to linger around him. Eyes unmoving from the table, he passes the cigarette to Blanc, himself taking a puff whilst Oliver sorts through the papers to attain some semblance of order.

“So? Why was that kid so important when all it seemed like he was doing was trying to drive you up the wall?”

Letting the smoke rise naturally from his lips, its distinctive scent burning his nostrils, Blanc taps the ashes at the tip of the cigarette into the ashtray - the only non-paper object on the table - with skilled fingers.

“It only made me realise that our risky decision is the right course of action to take.”

“Explain.”

Inhaling another drag of smoke into his lungs, Blanc breathes it out through puckered lips, admiring the thin, wispy trail it makes before elaborating.

“That young man from earlier did bring up an interesting point that only reaffirmed our plan. No one has trusted the Kingsley family in this city in years...which means that even without a sound lead, focusing the public’s attention on a single source will give us more time to discover the truth. Who knows? Maybe they’re the ones who have been behind this all along.”

A bitter laugh, “That, I don’t doubt. If Lancelot admitted to the whole thing, I don’t think a single soul in this city would be surprised.”

“That is exactly my point,” Blanc pushes the cigarette into the ashtray to extinguish its light, the heavy clawing scent of nicotine permeating the small room, “In these trying times, a common enemy to scapegoat our frustrations onto is dutifully needed. Especially if that scapegoat has a high chance of being as guilty as we expect him to be.”

As Blanc grabs a blank piece of paper and pulls a pen from his waistcoat pocket to write out a note, Oliver looks over at him from stacking the papers.

“You sure this will give us enough time to actually get a proper lead? All we’ve been able to find is that the Godspeed kid is in on this, but everyone with a functioning brain knows that. We’ve got leads and plenty of them; we’re just lacking evidence and proof.”

Finishing his note with a satisfying tap of pen to paper, Blanc draws his eyes up to Oliver and flashes him a smile, “Relax, my old friend. You underestimate how up-in-arms the public can get over issues like this. This will cause enough of a stir to mitigate our immediate problems.”

“If you say so.”

Oliver huffs, fishing around for another cigarette as Blanc promptly grabs his coat and exits the workshop. And in his hand, a neatly written letter:

[ To the tabloids desperate for a news story,

Here’s a headline for you:

The Beautiful Beast Embezzles Government Money, But For What Cause? ]

#ikerev #ikerev fanfic #drug dealer AU #blanc lapin #oliver knight #hmmm I wonder who else made a tiny guest appearance???? :3 #I'm so excited to share what I've got cooking up with this AU #it's nice to have a project that I can keep coming back to and that I'm this invested in #feels good uwu

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