#might grammar edit this later

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Teacher's Pet [Aaron x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@littlecarmine) Center (@penandpaper-love) Right (@f4iryesss)

Prompt: When the reader, Jack’s teacher gets injured during the school day keeping her students safe, Aaron goes to check on her that evening. The unlikely pair get closer, but it's up to both of them if they want to make whatever they have more. 

Pairing: Aaron x Non-BAU!reader, teacher!reader,  ally!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: hurt/comfort 

Word Count: 12K

Content Warnings: Homophobic phrases [from anti-LGBTQ+ protesters (the bad guys)], brief mention of religion, mention of being hit in the face and body and a split lip (reader) distress, mention of food and drinking alcohol, mention of an accident [not specified what (reader)], Haley’s death is brought up. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! This fic is for amazing @imagining-in-the-margins's Pride writing challenge! I made up my own prompt for this one which is: The reader puts herself in danger to keep her students away from anti-LBGTQ+ protesters. Aaron finds out about this and makes sure she’s fine (aka protective Hotch.) I hope you like this more fluffy and cute style of fic. It’s a bit different from the angst I write. It takes me back to my early Aaron writing style! I want to note that I know that not all school districts deal with this kind of stuff, but as I live in the South, and my sister and I are both in Education, I get to hear about this kind of thing more often than I’d like. Anyhow, please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/l/n = your last name 

a/r = age range 

a/d/r = any dietary restrictions (if none, please ignore) 

Aaron got the call from the school shortly after he’d finished an early lunch. He was seated at his desk, the soft glow of the lap lighting his space which was covered by the team’s files. He was going to do the boring parts of the files for them, as he always did, but his phone ringing had disrupted his workflow. He glanced at the caller ID and quickly picked up, saying, “This is Mr. Hotchner.” There was a brief pause before the woman on the phone said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Hotchner. This is Rachel Jenkins, the school receptionist.” Hotch nodded his head; he knew the woman well, as he had gone to the school multiple times this year already because Jack had gotten into some kind of trouble, or needed him. Rachel continued, stating “Sorry to disturb you during the work day, but there’s been an incident with Jack, and the nurse thinks it’s best that you come and pick him up as soon as possible.” Aaron stifled a sigh. He wasn’t angry at Jack. He didn’t blame him for acting out, a trait that had started once his son had started processing his mother’s death. The family counselor said that was a natural part of grieving for a child, and Aaron was sympathetic to his son’s pain and emotions. Sometimes he wanted to scream or lash out too, but he had more faculty over his emotions. Even with all that being said, Hotch did find it a bit troublesome that Jack got into scuffles on days that would have been easy for him. But that was neither here nor there, life, nor emotions waited for anyone’s schedule -- Aaron knew this like all parents did. 

Hotch asked a follow-up question: “Was this Jack dealing with bullies, or was this him doing something he shouldn’t be?” Aaron liked to know these things heading into the Principal or Nurse’s office beforehand, so he could set his tone appropriately. There was a pause on the line which made Hotch nervous. The silence was broken as Jessica replied, “No, Mr. Hotchner, it’s not that. I… I think it’s best that you just come down to the school.” This response made Aaron even more tense. 

What could have happened that the woman would hesitate like that? He sensed that an answer had been on the tip of her tongue, and she’d stopped herself from speaking because she thought it was better. Hotch furrowed his brows, got out of his chair quickly, and grabbed his suit jacket. He flipped the screen of his laptop down, then grabbed his shoulder bag from the couch. No matter what Jack might have gotten up to, not knowing if something bad had happened to his son, nothing would stop him from getting to Jack. 

Hotch hurriedly locked his office door behind him and as he started striding toward the stairs that would get him to the elevators, Rossi exited his office and offered a quizzical look at his friend. It was unlike Aaron to flee the office, even on days that felt like they were drawing on for an eternity. Hotch beat Dave to the question forming on his lips, someone would need to know where he was in case something serious came up in his absence. “Jack had some trouble at school and they said I should head over there.” Rossi frowned and said, “The bullies again? Remember my offer of teaching Jack how to punch is still on the table.” The worried look on Aaron’s face prevented Dave from joking further. Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “I don’t think so, I hope to be back in a half hour or so. Look after the team while I’m gone, please?” 

Rossi nodded his head in understanding and watched as Aaron took the stairs quickly down to the bullpen and out of sight. Dave closed his eyes for a second. He knew things had been hard for Aaron and Jack after Haley. There was no avoiding the hurt that lingered like a shroud around the two of them. He knew that Hotch had done his best to help and support Jack, but that didn’t make Aaron’s pain any less. If anything it made it worse because the guilt still haunted Aaron like a spector. Jack’s anger had grown and manifested at anything that it could get its teeth into, and often its victim was Aaron, who was trying his best. Dave bowed his head and saw the grief with Aaron. Rossi knew grief, it had been his companion for many years. And it hurt to see it on Hotch, but there was little he could do but support Aaron to the best of his ability and let time do its healing. And healing was a slow seamstress. Dave looked over the bullpen at the team working and smiling and turned back to his office, he felt like he needed a drink, but for now, bitter coffee would have to do. 

Aaron drove at a speed that was technically street-legal. The churning of his stomach and the constant red lights had him worried and agitated at the same time. Jack’s school wasn’t too far away, but he’d hit the lunch-hour traffic which made the drive at least twenty-five minutes long. Hotch jacked up the air conditioner to silence his stressed-out thoughts. If something very bad had happened, then he would have been told. And there was nothing on the news, no lockdowns, or active shooter drills. However, sending Jack off to school every morning knowing that that was a possibility didn’t make him feel good. 

It was the fear of the unknown that made Aaron press his foot down on the accelerator further. Hotch arrived at the school and everything looked normal from the outside. With hurried footsteps, he made it to the front office to check in. Jessica could see how nervous he was and the intensity of his expression. Aaron’s eyes, when they were dark and worried, had opened many doors for him, and broken many unsubs in the interrogation room. The receptionist swallowed and said, “Just grab a visitor badge and you can head to the nurse’s office, Mr. Hotchner. I’ll sign you in. The Vice Principal is already there.” 

Aaron grabbed one of the laminated passes and said, “Thank you,” as he headed out of the glass office and toward the nurse’s office which was located at the end of the central hall adjacent to the janitor’s closet. Knowing the Vice-Principal was present with Jack told Aaron more information, but not enough to know exactly what had happened. If he found out that his son was being bullied again, he was going to send some strongly worded emails to those boy’s parent’s this evening. As he was drafting the letters in this mind, he made it to the nurse and opened the door. As soon as he saw Jack’s tear-stained face, and that he was clutching a Kleenex in his hands, Hotch stepped further in the door and the nurse and Vice Principal moved aside and let him go to his son. Aaron knelt next to the bed that Jack was sitting on and embraced him firmly. Jack let out some sniffles and Aaron reassured him before asking for any information, “It’s okay, Jack. It’s okay.” 

After a few moments, Hotch attempted to move away, but Jack’s hands gripped the fabric of his shirt. Aaron moved his right hand from Jack’s soft hair that reminded him of Haley to under Jack’s legs as he stood. Unamused at how he’d been kept waiting, Aaron asked in a cool tone, “Would you tell me what’s going on, Vice Principal Westbrook?” The silence that stayed in the room as the Vice Principal picked at the hangnails on his fingers and looked at the floor had Aaron hot under the collar. Jack didn’t look bruised or hurt in any way, just very upset. Upset enough that he had wanted him. Before Dr. Westbrook could come up with a scripted answer, Jack said, “They hurt her, Dad.” Aaron frowned, pulled Jack back from his chest a bit, and asked, “Hurt who, bud?” Jack sniffled and replied, “Ms. y/l/n. He punched her in the face and her shoulder.” The words tumbled out of the boy's mouth and only had Aaron more concerned. Jack was crying again, and Aaron handed him back his crumpled tissue and pressed Jack to his broad chest again. Jack set his head on his dad’s shoulder and took comfort in the solid presence and scent that was always there for him when he needed it. 

Jack had done a lot of growing up in his short years. He’d discovered a few things about life that he wished he hadn’t. How people you loved sometimes went away, maybe just for a bit, or sometimes forever, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still there loving him. His dad was a prime example of this -- and even if Jack couldn’t articulate this, or might change his mind later, it was still true in the moment. As his little fingers clutched at Aaron’s shirt collar, Hotch turned to face Dr. Westbrook again. 

The slim man seemed to be trying his hardest to avoid eye contact with Aaron, and giving a straight answer to anything, but Hotch wouldn’t let him get away with this. Ms. y/l/n was someone who had become very special to Jack this year when he got into her class. Aaron also had a kind of parasocial relationship with y/n, as she had been very helpful with Jack and dealing with his grief and the bullying he’d been dealing with that year. Jack had brought her up early in the year and when Aaron had met with Ms. y/l/n for the Meet-The-Teacher night, Hotch could tell why. She was so bright. Her presence illuminated her cozy room which she had decorated with bright posters and lights. It seemed even the sharp corners of the room were softened by y/n’s presence. She had given Jack such praise for his manners, his reading skills, and how he treated his classmates with kindness. Aaron had almost felt like a lost that night, as he could only listen and nod. He had to really pay attention when some of the other parents started asking questions. Apart from the fact that y/n was clearly an adept teacher and classroom manager for her age, she was also pretty. Pretty in a quaint way. He’d left the school that night feeling oddly lighter than he had in months. 

The next time they met was at the first parent-teacher conference. That was where Aaron had learned that Jack was dealing with bullies. The administration hadn’t even informed him of this issue. y/n was very kind about it and wanted to make sure that Aaron had the right support for something like this. y/n hadn’t meant to question his parenting skills, but as a single dad, she wanted to get a better feel of how emotions were handled around the Hotchner household. Not just sad feelings, but anger and resentment too. It wasn’t until a month later when the bullying had gotten really bad, that Aaron realized, thanks to y/n, that he wasn’t equipped to handle this alone and had brought in the help of a family counselor. He had more contact with y/n after that, as she checked up on Jack and kept Aaron informed about his son’s grades and other issues that popped up in the classroom. 

Hotch could understand why Jack would be upset that y/n had been hurt somehow. He was also angry, and asked in a firm voice, “What happened to Ms. y/l/n?” The VP sighed and said, “Well it was just an unfortunate situation, Mr. Hotchner, but no one was seriously hurt and we’re launching an investigation into the situation that happened.” This evasive answer didn’t satisfy Aaron and he replied, “Great, but what happened to Ms. y/l/n, and why is my son so distraught about it? What happened?” 

Dr. Westbrook realized that he couldn’t talk his way out of not answering Aaron as he had with the other parents he’d had to have had this conversation with. The man relented and said, “Well this morning a group of Anti-LGBTQ+ protesters amassed at the front of the school and held up degrading signs and shouted at anyone coming into the building through the front entrance.” Hotch already didn’t like where this was headed. The political climate had many up in arms due to the acceptance of others, and they made it their goal to try and complain and intimidate those who didn’t agree with them and their views. The VP continued, “Well they were blocking the flow of traffic and harassing the faculty, so we had some city police move them off campus. Unfortunately, they set up on DeGhatty Street on the sidewalk by the area for recess.” Hotch nodded, getting a better picture of what had happened. But there were still missing pieces. The next bit Dr. Westbrook rushed through, but Aaron caught the story even if the VP was trying to make it hard to. “Well it was the second shift of recess, the time that Jack has, and the protesters became more agitated. They weren’t getting the engagement they wanted, and they started yelling at the kids. Ms. y/l/n was on recess shift and tried calling the school’s two SROs, but they were dealing with an incident in the cafeteria. The screaming was distressing to some of the students and one student started moving toward the group by the fence…” 

Hotch stopped the man and asked, “Was it Jack?” The Vice Principal nodded his head no and replied, “No Mr. Hotchner. It was another student, but other monitors and students did say that your son was watching from a pretty close distance.” Hotch narrowed his eyes but didn’t detect that the man was lying. Dr. Westbrook swallowed thickly under Aaron’s gaze and shaky continued, “Well Ms. y/l/n saw the student moving toward the protesters, and she moved forward to cut the student off. The group was unhappy about that, and they accosted her and made some false statements and allegations about her. She did her best to verbally defend herself and move back to protect the students and get them all inside, but one of the men in the group, allegedly, grabbed her shoulder, screamed at her, and then lost his composure and hit Ms. y/l/n in the face and chest.”

The image that the man was painting made Aaron feel his anger flash up in him. Not only was the VP using protective language for the protesters, he, nor the school had done a proper job of protecting their students or teachers. No wonder Jack was distraught. Thinking of Jack, his son had settled and Aaron knew they would have to leave in a bit. This was still a school and there were other things that had to be done, but Aaron asked, “Are the protestors gone now? I drove down DeGhatty to get here, and I didn’t see anyone. Also, how is Ms. y/n? Is she alright?” 

Dr. Westbrook nodded and seemed relieved that the conversation had turned away from the events of that afternoon. He cleared his throat and straightened his blue striped tie which didn’t match his grey suit before replying, “The local police came down and dispersed the crowd and told them they didn’t have a right to protest on the school’s block without a permit, which is true. As for Ms. y/l/n, Nurse Patty here looked her over and we decided it was for the best to send her home for the day. Ms. y/l/n seemed shaken up.” Aaron refrained from letting out a long sigh. Now was not the time nor the place. But the feelings and questions that flooded Aaron were that he wondered why the police hadn’t been called earlier, why the school didn’t seem up on its legal code, and the utter condescension that came with having to send y/n home for the rest of the day. What did the Vice Principal expect from her after being punched in the face? y/n had “appeared shaken up?” How the hell would he have reacted in that circumstance? 

Aaron didn’t want any of this frustration at this situation to make Jack feel like he was angry at him, but he would have a conversation with his son later about when to step back in a situation. But he’d worry about that later. For now, Hotch said, “Okay. Thank you for explaining. May I take Jack home now?” Dr. Westbrook seemed to deflate and nodded his head yes. The nurse moved over to Jack and gave him a pat on the head and handed him a lollipop. The older woman said, “Have a good rest of your day, Jack. If you’re at school tomorrow and you feel bad at any time in the day you can come and see me, okay?” Jack nodded softly and Aaron shot her a thankful smile before tightening his grip on his son and moving out of the door and back toward the front office. Hotch quickly signed out with Jessica and returned his visitor badge to the counter. 

Once he was back out into the warm, almost, summer sun, Aaron dipped his head down to Jack's ear and said softly, “Hey, Buddy. Would you be okay with hanging you with Dad’s friends for a while while I work in the office? You could camp up with me or you could see Uncle Spencer, Uncle Morgan, or Aunt Penelope?” The prospect of seeing his friends had Jack perk up and his distress diminish as he said, “Hm-hm. I wanna see Aunt Penny and Uncle Derek.” Hotch smiled and replied, “Okay. We’ll just be there for a few hours and then, if you’re good, we can go to ice cream after Daddy’s done with work.” That last piece of information really made Jack happy, and Aaron relaxed for the first time since the school had called him. It didn’t take long for Aaron to get Jack strapped into his car seat and head back to the Quantico Field Office. 

Hotch spent the rest of the afternoon working and looking after Jack; mostly making sure Jack wasn’t getting into too much trouble with the team. Derek showed Jack around the bullpen, and Spencer did some physics magic which the whole BAU oohed and ahhed at, even Aaron and Rossi, from a distance. Then Penelope took Jack into her office and they spent around an hour together laughing and talking. There was something about Garcia’s energy that matched Jack’s so well, and his easily distracted self could be entertained for hours. Hotch made sure to set up a fancy coffee delivery for tomorrow morning for the team out of his pocket. He knew all of their orders by heart now. He did this as a thank you to the team. Not that any one of them would complain about having Jack distract them, however, being a babysitter was very much not in their job description, especially when they were in the office, so wanted to make sure they knew how appreciative he was of their support. Each one of them had been there for him and Jack on numerous occasions when Hotch thought that he couldn’t go on. He realized how lucky he was to be surrounded by this support system. Jack had them too, and also his friends and teachers at school. Ms. y/n came to mind as he finished scheduling the coffee order. The thought of someone laying hands on her gave him a constricting feeling in his chest. 

Aaron let out a breath and looked outside his windows into the bullpen where he watched Prentiss, Morgan, and JJ kneeling next to Jack who was speaking animatedly about what looked like soccer practice. Hotch moved his eyes back to his laptop screen and pulled up his personal email. With a few clicks of his fingers, he had gmail pulled up. He hit ‘new message.’ He typed in y/n’s email into the ‘to’ box. It felt so strange to be the one initiating a conversation, especially a new one, but he cared about Ms. y/n, and he knew his nerves wouldn’t settle down until he’d checked in on her. 

y/n was the one to normally start a conversation either to check up on Jack or let Hotch or Mr. Hotchner, as she called him, what had happened with Jack at school. Aaron had only once emailed y/n for details about Jack’s day when he’d come home upset about something that he couldn’t quite decipher. She responded promptly and told him everything she knew about the situation. Essentially they had only emailed in a professional capacity before, and this felt different. For a moment Aaron wondered if anyone else had called or messaged her. If her friends from school or elsewhere were getting a story about the wild day she’d had, or how she was hurting. The thought made Hotch’s heart clench for some unknown reason. He typed out this message: 

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

From: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

Subject: Checking-In 

Good afternoon, Ms. y/n,

 I heard from Jack and the school today that you were hurt today while trying to keep your students safe. I wanted to thank you for putting yourself in that position for the sake of the students, especially Jack. He is very worried about you and keeps asking if you’re okay. He and I both share that sentiment. I hope the school fully supports you in what you need at this time. If there is anything I can do to make your life easier these next few days, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I would be happy to drop off food or just be a support if you need it. Wishing you the best, 

Aaron Hotchner 

Hotch hit the send button and listened to the little swoosh of the sent sound. Although he did feel better after sending the email, it was also odd. He didn’t want to come off as a parental figure to y/n. Not that he wasn’t older than her by a good few years, he was, but the idea of him coming across that way made him uncomfortable. And the fact that that idea made him uncomfortable only made him question what he wanted to come off as instead. Mostly, Aaron didn’t want to seem patronizing. He knew y/n was tough and could handle things, but his concern and care had overrode those thoughts. Hotch pushed those thoughts from his mind; he had good intentions sending the email and if it came off in another way, then at least he’d tried his best. 

Aaron looked at the clock at his wall and it was five minutes to five. Unlike a normal day, where Jack would have an afterschool activity or Jess would pick him up for a few hours before he would swing by and get Jack for the rest of the evening, tonight was different, and he started packing his things up in his briefcase. He took some of the important files and the rest he left for tomorrow. He’d come to the office early if Jack felt up to going to school tomorrow. Once Hotch had most of his things ready, he moved outside of his office. Jack was playing a game with Spencer, and Aaron called out, “Jack, come up here and get your backpack and lunchbox, please. We’re about to go home.” Jack looked up at his dad and said, “Just one sec, Dad.” Aaron gave his son a look, and Jack sighed, got out of his seat, and made it up the stairs to Aaron’s side. As Jack moved past Spencer, Reid gave his head a little pat and once Jack had passed the lithe agent, Aaron gave Spence a smile before turning to his son and moving with him to the office. 

Jack only had one binder and one maths assignment out on Aaron’s office couch. Jack had promised his dad that he would be good in the office, and being good meant doing five minutes of a math worksheet and complaining about how hard it was before the little boy moved out into the bullpen to see the team. Aaron didn’t blame him. Jack had had a hard and stressful day, but he did expect his son to pick up and get ready to go on his own. 

Jack was getting old enough for those things now, but Hotch still packed his lunches every day or made sure his son had money for his lunch account. By the time Aaron had his suit jacket back on and his briefcase and shoulder bag in hand, Jack had put his paper and notebook away and was struggling to zip up his small Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles backpack. Aaron leaned down and helped him close the bag and handed it back to Jack. Aaron led his son out of the room and locked the door behind him for the last time for the day. Hotch nodded to Rossi who was also locking up his office and then followed Jack down the stairs. The pair made it through the bullpen, and Jack waved at the team as he passed them. Aaron said, “Thank you” to each of them as well in his low voice. As Hotch got to the edge of the BAU’s area, turned, and said more loudly, “Thanks for today, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Morgan, Prentiss, Reid, and JJ nodded and said bye. 

True to his word, Hotch took Jack to get ice cream at a local spot not far from their house. Jack was ecstatic to be having sweets before dinner. Aaron had to remind his son that he still had to eat some other food once they got home and settled. Jack agreed excitedly as they walked into the pastel-colored storefront. There weren’t many people inside and no one in line, so it took only a few moments for Jack to order his chocolate swirl scoop with add-ins of Oreos and strawberries. Aaron got a scoop of brown butter vanilla for himself and then paid as Jack got them spoons and napkins, then found a comfortable table in the corner of the building near the window. After paying, Hotch sat down across from Jack who said, “Thanks, Dad.” Aaron smiled and reached over and patted the top of his head, replying, “Of course, Buddy.” Hotch cherished these moments. There would only be a few more years that ice cream before dinner was a big thing, and time in some things, such as kids growing up, moved so quickly. Not only was this time for them to have a bit of fun, but it was also a teaching moment for Jack. But Aaron was going to enjoy his ice cream first. 

Aaron dipped his plastic spoon into the slightly yellow-colored ice cream. There were specks of vanilla bean in the scoop that was slowly melting in the afternoon sun. Hotch took his spoon and slipped it in his mouth, sucking off the sweetness. Hotch let the cold ice cream sit in his mouth and melt with the body heat inside. The taste was sweet, but not cloyingly so which he enjoyed. The aftertaste of the browned butter hit as he swallowed. Aaron didn’t allow himself to have anything this indulgent very often, so when he did, he tried to enjoy and appreciate it. For many years, Hotch knew that his faster metabolism had gone in his early thirties, and treats were a thing he sought out less and less for himself. However, as he watched Jack enjoy his ice cream and as the soft music played in the space while the cars drifted by outside, he realized that this was something not only Jack needed, but something he needed as well. Aaron was brutal on himself and his body, and maybe he was trying too hard. He wanted and tried to be the best version of himself for the team, but more importantly for Jack, and he might have been taking it too far on his end. He relaxed a bit into his bench seat and took another bite of ice cream, this time just enjoying it for the sake of the experience. 

After their paper bowls were empty, Aaron took a breath and looked at Jack who was playing with his spoon and asked, “Jack, did you know what those people who were at your school today were talking about?” The boy stopped fiddling with his cutlery and made a face that said he was thinking before saying, “I think so. They were mad about gay people and shouting. They were really angry and I don’t know why…” Hotch nodded his head and tried to think about how to best respond. He had talked to Jack about the LGBTQ+ community, not so much like that but in the more simple and kid-friendly way of emphasizing that anyone can love anyone else as long as it’s not hurting anyone. That there could be two moms or two dads, and that not everyone felt like a boy or a girl. Jack looked up at his dad and asked, “Why were they so angry?” 

Aaron swallowed and replied, “Well, sometimes people don’t like something, or don’t believe in something. And they can think that, but the thing is that they try and want to make other people think it too. And when people don’t agree with them, they get angry. Because if you can’t make someone agree with you, then you can at least make them scared. And what do we know about being scared, Jack?” It took a second before Jack replied, “It’s okay to be scared but being different doesn’t mean being scary.” Aaron nodded proudly and Jack added on, “So they were just big bullies?” Hotch knew it was more complex with that but for now, it was a good analogy and he nodded yes. 

This conversation gave Jack a new thought and he asked, “You told me that I shouldn’t give bullies time, but Ms. y/l/n went up to them and tried talking to them.” Aaron nodded and replied, “Yes. You’re right. That’s what I’ve said to you. Things are different with Ms. y/l/n because she’s an adult, and she was trying to keep you and all of the students safe. But you’re right, for you, Jack, I would say to stay away from a situation like that, but there are some other things you can do too.” Aaron knew that Jack was a helper, and always had been. So in a situation where his son might feel helpless, he wanted to give him an option to do something that would give him power in the scenario and to do something that he was good at. 

Aaron stated, “So what you can do, Jack, is to find the other kids like you who might be upset. Because those people were saying upsetting and hurtful things. So you can find those kids who are hurting and make sure they’re doing okay.” Jack nodded along, this was something he could do. Aaron also added, “And if things seem bad, like if you feel unsafe or the other kids feel unsafe, the best thing you can do is get help from an adult. From someone you trust or know. Does that make sense?” Jack nodded and sat forward, mirroring Aaron’s posture as he shook his head yes. Hotch smiled and said, “Good, If you have more questions about today you can ask me anytime, okay?” 

Just as Aaron and Jack were getting ready to head home, Hotch’s phone pinged with an incoming message, and he checked it. The email was from y/n and he tapped on the screen opening the message which read: 

To: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

From: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

Subject: Re-Checking-In 

Good afternoon, Mr. Hotchner, 

Thank you so much for checking in on me. That is very kind of you. I’m just sorry that Jack or any of the students at recess had to see and hear what they did. As for what the administration thinks about what I did today, I think I’m going to find that out tomorrow, but don’t want to know really, nor should I speculate about it in an email. You are niceto offer your help. I think I’m just going to order a frozen pizza from the store and call it a night. I’m a bit banged up, if it was any more than this I think I’d have to go to the ER (that last bit is hyperbole). Thanks again for checking in Mr. Hotchner. I hope Jack isn’t too upset. Tell him I said hello, and that I’ll see him tomorrow at school! I hope you have a pleasant night, 

Ms. y/n. 

Aaron frowned slightly. There was a hesitancy in y/n’s tone here. Especially with how the school might react to what had happened. That, and the fact that y/n seemed to be in a lot of pain didn’t make Hotch feel good. It made him want to go over and see her even more. He paused to make sure this was still being done with good intentions. That his desire wasn’t just trying to find an opportunity to see y/n again. The feelings in his gut were still one of concern, even if his heart was doing something different. Hotch pushed aside the new feelings in his chest, something for him to contemplate later, and composed a reply to y/n: 

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

From: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

Subject: Re-re-Checking-In 

y/n, I’m glad you can bring some humor into this situation. That’s a relief. It sounds like you’re in a good bit of pain. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the ER? Also, would you let me pick you up a pizza? It’s no big deal at all, and that way you can save money on the delivery. Sorry, I don’t mean to overreach, but I am willing to give a helping hand if you want. 

Aaron Hotchner

Hotch really hoped he wasn’t sounding too desperate, or that y/n would think his offering to help her save money made her feel poor. He didn’t mean it that way. He’d tossed a few options out for her to reach out if she needed, or wanted help, or just some company. From what Aaron could tell about y/n was that she was fiercely independent. She’d seemed so put together for someone in their mind a/r. From what he could tell from y/n’s weekly email updates, she made a lot of her own classroom content and tried very hard to connect with each of her students. Not only that but from the two times they’d met at school, there were no indications that she had a partner or parents close by to help her with things. Aaron assumed this mainly because she’d told him how she’d had to learn how to fix the leak in her bathroom faucet from YouTube just so she didn’t have to call in a plumber. That was another time when Aaron had wished he could just whisk himself over to her duplex and lend y/n a hand. Before he could overthink what he’d sent there was another reply: 

To: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

From: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

Subject: Re-re-re-Checking-In 

Ummm, you’d do that, really? I don’t want to be a bother, Mr. Hotchner. I know you have to take care of Jack and everything… 

y/n y/l/n

Now a hint of a smile turned up the corner of Aaron’s mouth. He and Jack had made it to the car at this point and Hotch typed out: 

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

From: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

Subject: [Re]-Checking-In 

y/n, 

I’d be happy to take even a small load off of your shoulders. After what you’ve been through today it is the least I can do, and I can get someone to sit with Jack for an hour or so while I come over. To make communication easier, here is my cell Number: (804) 572 - 4459. If you’d like, however, to keep this over email, that’s fine as well. It might be a moment before I get back to you as I have to get Jack home and get him dinner, but I’ll be open after that and talk to you again then. Do you have any allergies or dietary restrictions I should know about before I go grab your pizza? 

Aaron Hotchner 

The drive home was quiet as Jack thought about what his dad had said. The sandy-haired boy had a few more questions which Aaron did his best to explain. When the questions turned toward religion, it had been a church group protesting, Hotch did his best to turn the conversation back to the key points. He rarely talked to Jack about church or religion, wanting his son to be able to make his own choices in faith, or not to have any at all. That hadn’t been a choice for Hotch as a child, and he wanted Jack to not have the burn of guilt that faith could bring unless it was something his son came to on his own terms. Plus religion had become a bit of a sore subject for Aaron after Haley’s passing. How could a fair God take away someone as good and pure as Haley? It didn’t make sense, and he didn’t have the will to study theodicy. So he pushed those thoughts to the background and focused on getting home. 

It didn���t take long for Aaron to get dinner ready for Jack. While he reheated some leftover pasta and veggies, Jack did his homework, and they both had a small dinner. Hotch also texted Jess to see if she was open to swing by for an hour to which she replied, “Yes. I never miss a chance to hang out with my coolest nephew. Are you going on a date or something?” Aaron rolled his eyes at the text, he suspected sarcasm and replied, “Something like that. Making a house call to a friend in need. I’ll tell you more later.” A moment later Jess sent a thumbs-up emoji and said, “I’ll be over in about forty minutes once my boys are settled, probably playing Fortnite or something *sigh*” Hotch liked the text and checked his messages to see a text from a new number which he correctly assumed was y/n. She had sent a simple, “Hello, it’s me, y/n. For your pizza question, I have a/d/r so knock yourself out with that. I’m not a picky eater. Also here’s my address, ________. I’m not doing anything tonight, I couldn’t even if I wanted to, so you can come over anytime, but before nine would be great as I have to wake up early. Thanks so much again. This is very, very nice of you. - y/n.” Aaron liked the text and replied, “Sounds good. I’ll make sure to make it to yours before nine. - Aaron.” 

Jess arrived promptly at 6:30, and Hotch let her know it was the normal bedtime routine that night. A half hour of TV, upstairs, teeth brushed, and in bed by 8:30. Jessica nodded and said, “Gotcha. You owe me a story for this one.” Aaron chuckled and said, “I’ll let you know. There’s an open bottle of Pino in the fridge if you want some. I shouldn’t be gone long.” Jess couldn’t help herself from saying, “That's what she said,” and Hotch flushed crimson. Unlike Haley, Jess had gotten the more crass humor of the Brooks family. 

Aaron left the room, keys in hand before any more jokes could be levied at him. He really didn’t plan on staying at y/n’s long. However thanks to the recent comments, Aaron couldn’t help but feel like he was a teenager sneaking out of the house to see some girl after curfew. Hotch shook his head at the silly notion and reminded himself that he was an adult man, and such thoughts were above him. However, he couldn’t stop the small thrill that ran through him as he entered y/n’s address into his phone. He swung by the local store and picked up two frozen pizzas that he thought y/n would like and matched her allergy and dietary restrictions she’d sent him earlier. He also moved to the pharmacy section and picked up some pain relievers, liniment oil, and cotton pads, just in case y/n didn’t have any of those things at her apartment. After all, she had said she was going to get stuff delivered to her, and he didn’t know if those were things she had planned on getting and then just didn’t tell him because she hadn’t wanted to be a burden. At least, that was how Aaron justified the extra purchases. 

Hotch texted y/n that he was on the way and the closer he got to her place, the more nervous he felt. It was strange. He hadn’t felt this way in ages. He had to keep attempting to suppress the feeling, but it kept creeping up on him like frost on the ground in the morning; an inevitable thing that he knew would change and probably go away with time. It was a week away from summer, there shouldn’t be frost on the ground at all. Hotch felt exasperated at his state and realized that maybe he was just too cold of a person and the frost stuck with him. Outside of y/n’s place, Aaron said, “Get ahold of yourself Hotchner, and be helpful for once, goddammit.” His little pep-talk got him to the door with the groceries. The lights were on inside and Aaron knocked lightly on the front door. There was a very muffled, “I’m coming” and all of a sudden the piercing darkness was broken by a stream of yellow light that poured from y/n’s open door. Aaron blinked for a second as he took in y/n. She seemed pretty relaxed in an oversized t-shirt and shorts that were nearly swallowed by the length of her shirt. She was barefoot and leaning against the door frame taking him in as well. Apart from the angry bruises on y/n’s face and her split lip, she looked comfortable here. ‘This is her home, of course, she’s comfortable’ Aaron reminded himself. 

While Hotch’s eyes had been adjusting to the light, y/n’s eyes were getting used to the dark. Jack’s father had always been an attractive man even though she’d only seen him briefly in the drop-off and pick-up lines and even less for any extended period of time. But Mr. Hotchner had a face, and attitude one didn’t easily forget. There was an intensity about him, a fierceness that could easily draw one in or scare one away. 

y/n wondered why the other teachers didn’t talk about him more. Maybe it was all the things he and Jack had gone through, horrible horrible things that kept people away. It made sense that Mr. Hotchner was in the FBI. He had a high-intensity job. All that energy had to go somewhere, and when he wasn’t being a parent to Jack and doting on his son, he must be doing dangerous and exciting things. Far more exciting than her job at least. y/n noticed his jeans and polo, a new outfit on him, and most certainly not his normal pressed suit and tie. y/n wasn’t complaining. His arms filled out the sleeves and his waist seemed a little less trim. y/n felt like a total fool for just standing there, realizing that he was also waiting to come inside, or maybe just drop off the bag of groceries he’d brought her so kindly using his own money and taking time out of his night. 

y/n snapped back to reality and berated herself and thought, ‘You’re fun little thoughts are getting out of hand. Please like he’d care about you like that.’ It was true, y/n had allowed herself to think, just a bit about the mysterious Mr. Hotchner. It was harmless, just small vignettes of them laughing about a joke, or holding hands -- kid's stuff, or at least it had been until he showed up outside her doorstep. y/n shook her head and said, “I’m so sorry Mr. Hotchner. I get hit in the head and my manners fly out the window. Would you like to come in, or just hand those things over? I can pay you back for them. Do you have PayPal or Venmo?” The words came out quickly, more quickly than y/n had hoped. There was no hope in sounding nonchalant now. A flush started forming on y/n’s face and she wanted to put her face in her palm, but had enough dignity left to not do that in front of the parent of her student. 

Aaron let out a little sigh of relief knowing that he wasn’t the only one who thought meeting like this was a bit, different. He wondered for a second why y/n had accepted his help, but pushed that aside and said, “Please Ms. y/n, you can just call me Aaron. I’d like to come in for a moment. See if you’re alright if you don’t mind?” y/n nodded and opened the door wider for Hotch. Aaron slid past her into the warm comfort of her space. It was lit mostly by lamps and the furnishings seemed soft and cozy which would match y/n’s personality. It was a bit more sparse and minimal than Hotch would have imagined, but maybe the chaos of a classroom called for order at home. The lights in the kitchen were on and the brightest. Hotch heard the soft click of the door behind him as he looked over the space. 

y/n stepped forward and said, “Well, please just call me y/n. Unless I’m in the classroom, Ms. makes me feel like a 19th-century spencer waiting for Harlod Hill to come into town.” y/n rolled her eyes at her choice of words. ‘Yes y/n, let’s talk about The Music Man in front of Mr. Hotchner, why don’t you?’ In an attempt to recover and hide her embarrassment, y/n stated. “I was just pouring myself a glass of wine when you knocked, um, would you like one? I can also take those groceries from you.” Aaron offered y/n a soft smile that only made her heart beat faster as he extended the bag of groceries and said, “I’m good for now. Thank you. Have you had anything to eat yet tonight?” y/n took the paper bag and their fingers brushed, the warmth of their skin spreading despite the frozen contents inside the bag. y/n cleared her throat and turned toward the kitchen in an attempt to hide how flustered she was. The cool linoleum tile of her kitchen managed to cool her down, and she placed the pizzas in the freezer. She tried to say casually over her shoulder, “I haven’t eaten yet, no. You can sit down anywhere if you like…” y/n didn’t know exactly if Mr. Hotchner wanted to stay long and she felt silly for having offered him a drink in the first place. Maybe he didn’t drink. By the time y/n had situated the food, Aaron had taken a seat in one of the chairs sitting catty corner to her tan couch. Trying to play it cool, y/n moved to her counter and poured herself the glass of wine she had been planning before she’d put her foot in her mouth. y/n contemplated that maybe this was why she was good with kids. The nuances of adulthood could pass over children’s heads so easily. They didn’t feel the awkwardness that y/n did right now. Nor the racing of her heart as Aaron filled one of her seats. 

She moved over to the couch and asked again, “Can I please pay you back for the groceries? It was nice of you to bring them, and for you to check in on me. I got a few angry emails from parents saying that I exposed their children to danger today, so yours was a nice change.” Aaron’s eyebrows pulled together. The comment about payment passed him by. He wasn’t going to let Jack’s favorite teacher pay him back, even if she asked a hundred times. But the more pressing issue was the emails from other parents. If y/n’s actions didn’t look good, then he didn’t know what they were. He asked in a low voice, “Why were they upset?” y/n bit her lower lip and cringed as the pain stung from the split in her mouth. She had forgotten it was there for a moment. Perhaps she shouldn’t have brought up the other emails. Depending on how the district’s admin took her situation, it wouldn’t help her to spread information. 

y/n chose her words carefully as she replied, “Well some were mad that I got hurt in front of their children and some were angry that their kids were exposed to those protestors in the first place.” y/n looked at Aaron and his slightly annoyed and sympathetic gaze made her feel better, safe. She hadn’t really processed what had happened to her yet, and she’d been alone since she’d been sent home. It was good to have someone here, and y/n took a sip of her wine and set her glass down on the table before leaning her head back on the couch and sighing deeply deflating slightly. 

In a smaller voice, a voice that gave away the pain she was feeling y/n said, “Maybe I shouldn’t have done anything. I just didn’t like the things they were saying. Kids are much more cognizant than people like to think and for those who have gay parents, or siblings, or might be part of the community themselves, they shouldn’t have to hear that stuff.” y/n pinched the bridge of her nose and continued, “This had to happen the week before summer break?” As y/n had her eyes closed, Aaron took the chance to give her face a better look. The bruise under her eye was turning a nasty purple that would fade to an even more ugly yellow color in the following days. The split on her lip looked nasty as well. The tender pink skin must hurt as she talked. He got what she was saying about kids knowing more than others expected. Jack was a prime example of that. Of course, Jack had been through more pain and grief than many his age. It would only make sense that he was more perceptive. The claims from the other parents sounded like bullshit to him though. 

y/n turned her face to him and said softly, “Sorry for unloading on you. I haven’t really had anyone to talk to about this yet. I don’t mean to hold you up.” Aaron nodded his head no and said, “You’re not bothering me, and you’re not holding me up. What were the protestors saying exactly, had you seen them before?” y/n’s eyes softened. She hadn’t really allowed herself the opportunity to picture Aaron like this in person, so kind and concerned. She’d just let herself think silly little snippets, but this gentleness hadn’t filtered into the equation. y/n moved her gaze to the ceiling and said, “Oh they were saying all the homophobic classics. Fags go to hell, god hates queers, and they were accusing the teachers on the staff of being groomers and turning the students gay, all that jazz.” Hotch rolled his eyes. These points were so tiring at this point, and he was annoyed with y/n for having to deal with this. y/n looked at Hotch and said, “And I haven’t seen any of those people before. Not like I’d be looking for those types of people on a daily anyway. They must have come down from upstate.” 

Hotch let out a small huff, his lawyer side kicking in as he asked, “You seemed hesitant about the school’s response to what you did today, and some other parents showed concern. Do you think the district might not support your actions?” y/n sat forward and took another drink of wine, more this time. It was helping her calm down. Not that she normally needed wine to unwind, but it had been a long day, and there was a very attractive man unexpectedly sitting in her home. That last fact was still a wonder to y/n. Like a dream. y/n considered that she might have gotten a very bad concussion and was being wheeled right now to a hospital. But she was brought back from her wayward thoughts when Hotch cleared his throat. y/n shook her head. She was letting her brain get away with itself far more than normal. But she blamed it on the pain, painkillers, and stress of the whole situation. That stress was slightly intensified by Mr. Hotchner’s question, but y/n realized it was better to say it out loud instead of keeping it in to eat at her. 

y/n sighed and said, “It really depends. You’ve heard about that Mom’s for Student Purity campaign at the beginning of the school year, I’m sure?” Hotch nodded his head slightly. He had heard of it but hadn’t thought much of it. Only that there had been some issues and poor behavior at the school assemblies. Aaron had assumed that the district had taken care of the situation and that’s why he hadn’t heard more about it. As hard as Hotch tried to be involved in Jack’s academic life, and he did show up to every game, play, and parent-teacher conference, he didn’t have much time for the school board meetings. That had been Haley’s forte and the thought pained him momentarily. Aaron wished he could live up to the expectation that y/n must have had of him as he said, “I’ve heard of them, but not much. I’m sure they’d have something to say about today.” 

y/n let out a little snort and replied, “Tell me about it. The district has been having a constant battle with them. Ever since the president and the vice-president of their organization got elected to the school board it’s been hard to keep them at bay. They’ve tried implementing book bans, vetting curriculum, and getting the librarian fired. Right now they’re not in the majority and their ideas are unfounded and impractical to implement, but they’re making things hard. Every time the district shoots them down, they start a new campaign and it gets more troublesome. I know this will come up in a performance review and if they don’t like it, they’ll find a way to make it hard for me. They’ve done it to others already. I can imagine the comments, ‘Teacher causes brawl in front of students leaving them disturbed.’” 

Hotch took a moment to think about how hard that must be. To have to be so careful that making a choice to do the right thing could get y/n in trouble. How the system was setting her up to have to make hard choices at the expense of her employment possibly. All of these loopholes reminded him of his own work in a way, though he didn’t have to deal with kids all day. Even though some of the police and sheriff’s departments the BAU worked with acted like children. y/n sighed and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain. I love my job. I love working with my students. I love to see their joy and to have concepts click in their heads. They bring me so much happiness every day. It’s just the other part of the job, having to tip-toe around people and admin, it kind of dims that excitement I had when I was a new teacher.” y/n finished off her wine as Aaron took a moment to think. y/n had a great way of telling stories, it wasn’t a surprise that Jack was drawn to her tone and humor. It drew him in. He turned his head back to y/n who was now longingly looking between her wine bottle on her counter and her empty glass, as if trying to decide if she should risk another glass. 

Hotch asked carefully, “Have you taken anything for the pain?” He didn’t want to say that she looked rough, but her face looked like it hurt, and from y/n’s small grimaces, it clearly did. y/n nodded and said, “I did. I had some painkillers when I got home. I think I have another hour before I can take another round.” Aaron didn’t make a comment on y/n’s choice to mix alcohol with painkillers, nor the fact that she was drinking on an empty stomach. He’d recommend that she have some dinner in a minute, but for now, he said, “Well, I think if you iced your face for a bit and used some liniment oil on your lip it would reduce the swelling. It’s still going to hurt for a few days, but the bruising should be a little better, and it might tide you over until you can take your next dose of painkillers.” y/n nodded and said, “There’s a bag of ice in the freezer. I was doing that earlier but then fell asleep. I woke up in a nice puddle.” y/n grunted slightly as she got to her feet and made her way toward the kitchen. Aaron followed her with his gaze and he asked, “Can I refill your wine glass, and maybe you can try that oil, it’s pretty soothing. I know from experience.” 

y/n turned her head toward Aaron, he was being so nice to her and she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t come across people who were just nice for the sake of it often, and it filled her with warmth. She nodded her head yes and tried to imagine Aaron, who was always so put-together and composed, not bruised and bloody. The thought sent a pang through her. She wondered how often his getting injured happened, and if he’d let her help him like he was helping her. y/n shook her head. This was already feeling like a fantasy, she couldn’t possibly hope for more than this. Things like this didn’t happen, not to her. y/n grabbed the bag of ice that had refrozen after her nap, and grabbed a towel from the drawer next to the fridge, cradling the cool bag in her hand. y/n moved back to the couch and sat back down. The butterflies in her tummy had fluttered their wings like they did when they stopped to get warmed on the gray pavement outside of her house in summer. She wished she could still them, but at the same time, it was such a rush, they almost made up for the pain in her face. She wished she could get a better read on Mr. Hotchner. She knew about his son, and his circumstances, but even so, he was unpredictable like a comet. Why he’d offered to help her apart from out of kindness was hard to pin down, and she didn’t dare ask him outright. Why she’d accepted was another mystery. Did wanting to be in the company of a good man make her a bad person? Was she sexualizing him, taking advantage? 

Before her thoughts could take her further, y/n pressed the bag to her face, covering her and dimming the flush that was blooming on her cheeks. y/n pressed a little too hard and grimaced at the cold and the pressure. Just as she did this, Aaron sat down with her wine and the grocery bag. Hotch softly said, “Gentle now.” y/n looked up at him, half of her face covered, and smiled. She felt like I might cry, but she didn’t know why. How pathetic she must have looked to him. Not able to take care of herself. But she’d been trying. She’d been trying to prove she could care for herself forever. Now one had trusted her, not after the accident. Not after her life had been turned around. But she didn’t talk about that. She didn’t even talk about it with herself anymore. There was no point in self-pity, she’d lived, externally unscathed. For as perceptive as Mr. Hotchner was, he couldn’t know everything inside her, maybe that was what she was waiting for. Someone who could explain why bad things happened to good people. y/n swallowed back her emotions and wiped away one stray tear, and Hotch sat in silence watching her with concern. Wondering why her mood had shifted so suddenly. 

After a few minutes, y/n pulled the ice pack off her face and set it on the table. She then picked up her fresh wine glass and took a smaller sip, savoring it this time, as she did this, Aaron put his hand into the grocery bag and pulled out the cotton wipes normally used for removing makeup, then the liniment oil which was in a small dropper topped bottle. He opened the bottle and took off the paper cover keeping the clear liquid inside. Hotch screwed on the cap and then dropped a few drops of oil onto the pad. He considered that if this was for Jack, he’d use his hands, and let the warmth of his skin soothe the hurt. But this wasn’t Jack, and Aaron remembered that as he started raising his hand to y/n’s mouth like she was someone he could just tend to like family. Hotch froze mid-movement and turned noticeably red. He cleared his throat and said, “Sorry,” as he set the pad into y/n’s waiting hand. She was as shocked as he was at how he’d reached out for her. y/n murmured a barely audible, “Thanks” as she took the pad and, this time, more carefully pressed it to her split lip. Aaron filled the silence with what he hoped were some helpful reminders. It felt too awkward if he didn’t speak after his slip-up with his hand, plus, he was going to have to leave in a few minutes. He didn’t want to stay out late and the darkness outside was only getting darker. 

“If the school or the district ends up giving you any serious trouble, make sure your union rep is with you when you have to explain the situation. And, heaven forbid, there is some complaint and the union can’t do anything, I have a few lawyer friends I can get you in contact with.” y/n nodded her understanding, Her eyes widened at his lawyer comment. Who doesn’t this man know? Aaron continued, “You should ice your face on and off until you go to bed, and make sure you get some dinner before you sleep. You can also use this oil in other places if you’re aching elsewhere, just make sure not to get it in your eyes.” y/n watched him list off these things so collectedly. Not even having to think about them. She considered that he would make a good teacher if he was inclined toward that profession, but then again, he was the leader of an FBI Unit, how much more of a teacher can you get than that? y/n snapped her head up, realizing Aaron was saying something to her. Hotch smiled and repeated, “Can I see?” He gestured toward her lip and y/n let out a little breath and said, “Okay,” as she removed the pad from her lip and looked into Aaron’s dark, thoughtful eyes.

Hotch sat forward in his chair. y/n’s face was in the light of a lamp and he could see her full-looking lips which were pretty except where they were marred by the scar and scab of dark clotted blood. It didn’t look bad enough to need stitches, but just barely. He’d seen so many scars like these on Morgan, Reid, Emily, and his own mouth that it didn’t bother him. What did bother him was that what was a painful and annoying injury being inflicted on y/n. That would sting for at least a week. Sure it sucked when it happened to him or a member of the team, but they’d signed up for that, the most y/n should have to expect in terms of harm on the job was a paper cut. Clearly, he had been mistaken. 

Since they had both returned to their seats, y/n and Aaron had started drifting closer together like moths drawn to a flame. Hotch was about a foot away from y/n and could feel the ghost of her breath on his face and the hint of her barely touched second glass of rose now forgotten on the table. Without thinking, he moved his large hand up to the side of her face. The warmth of his hand on the side of her face had y/n rest her chin in his palm, and she closed her eyes. Not exactly sure what or why he was doing this, Aaron brushed his thumb over y/n’s top lip and then softly over her bottom lip. She winced as the pad of his thumb brushed over her scab, but didn’t pull away from his touch. y/n opened her eyes and Hotch dropped his hand. He leaned in slightly, entranced by y/n, her presence, just wanting to be a bit closer to her. y/n did the same. 

The moment was shattered when y/n’s phone loudly went off. Aaron dropped his hand like a lead weight, and y/n’s head snapped toward her phone on the side of the table. She turned her gaze back toward Aaron, but the moment had been broken. He looked silly, almost ashamed of himself. He’d pulled back and away and his posturing also made y/n feel like a fool. What had she been thinking? y/n got up grabbed her phone and answered, stepping farther away, but not so far away that Hotch couldn’t hear. What did she have to lose after acting so immature in front of him anyway? She could hardly think how she’d act when she saw him again, especially in the classroom. 

Putting the phone to her ear, she listened as her doctor asked if she’d picked up the refill of the medication that she had needed since her accident. y/n dipped her head. She’d completely forgotten about going to the pharmacy after her day and replied, “No not yet. I’ll pick them up right after work tomorrow.” There was a short reminder that those meds were helping y/n and she shouldn’t go without them. y/n nodded and said, “I know. I’ll pick them up tomorrow. I have enough to make it till then.” Hotch watched y/n cave in on herself as she walked away from him. He hadn’t meant to make her feel bad, or silly. He felt silly. Like someone who hadn’t been thinking about what he was doing. He shouldn’t have put y/n in that position and he was sorry for it. He’d have to find a way to apologize and leave y/n to her night before making some other kind of monumental error in judgment. 

Hotch heard y/n wrap up her call and her footsteps came back toward him. He stood and moved into the open space of the living room. The front door was just a few feet away and he felt like running out of it. But he stayed in discomfort and said, “I’m sorry for what I did earlier, y/n. That was inappropriate. I, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” y/n dropped her eyes again and said, “It’s alright. You were really kind to come over here and listen to me ramble and complain for half an hour. Not even my friends did that, and I’ll make sure to heed your advice. It’s clear you have a lot more practical life experience than I do. You don’t need to apologize for anything.” Aaron nodded, trying to accept her words for a situation he’d created. He wished he could explain what he’d been thinking, but he couldn’t because he hadn’t been thinking. The final nail in the coffin was when y/n said, “I hope you have a good night, Mr. Hotchner.” The change back to his last name, y/n hoped sounded regretful, but to Aaron, it only sounded hollow. Now it was Aaron’s turn to drop his head and he moved toward the door, stopping for one second as his fingertips brushed the cool metal, so unlike y/n’s warm skin. 

y/n didn’t like this. She didn’t like this at all. She hadn’t really known why she’d said yes to him coming over other than she wanted to see Aaron. She had enjoyed feeling his hand on her face. It was fast and strange like a dream, but she’d liked it, and part of her wanted very badly to understand why she’d wanted him here. And she didn’t think she could do it alone. She assumed that Aaron was as lost as she was. It seemed like he was. The words of y/n’s therapist rang in her ears, “Sometimes being strong is letting people in instead of keeping them out.” Just as Hotch’s hand latched onto the door knob y/n said, “Mr. Hotch… Aaron. I can’t exactly tell you why I asked you here, apart from the fact that I wanted you here, and I really enjoyed having you here, for all of it. I mean, like, before the phone call. I don’t know what this is,” she gestured between them, and continued, “But I’d like to understand it more. Maybe when the semester is over we could get coffee or something. Or if you don’t want that, I understand too.” 

There was a moment of silence that felt like an eternity before Aaron turned. His expression looked lighter, and maybe there was a ghost of a smile on his face that said, “I’d like that y/n. I enjoyed tonight too. You have my number now, so you let me know once you have the headspace to come up with a day for our meeting. I look forward to it.” y/n smiled too and raised her hand and waved. Hotch then moved outside and closed the door behind him. As he walked down the drive he felt better. Much better, and happy he’d come, even if he hadn’t been sure why, he had a better picture now, and he felt less guilty about it. He’d have something to tell Jess when the time was right, but for now, he could look forward to getting to know y/n better, and get to know himself too. 

Inside, y/n looked at the door for a second before she moved to it and locked it. She then moved to the couch and dropped into the cushions with a sigh. Once she’d grounded herself, y/n grabbed her glass and took another sip. The bag of ice was once again going unnoticed on the cushions and melting. y/n pulled the glass from her lips and contemplated how her face didn’t hurt so much anymore. Perhaps it was the painkillers, or the wine, or maybe, just maybe, it was the courage to tell Aaron the truth, and the possibility to know more about that feeling between them.

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[hookechoes]

little bit of a benny ficlet, just trying to get into his head a bit and see what's rattling around in there

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a long crashing skidding sound wakes him but not kathy; she's drunk-asleep, dead to the whole world until her body decides its had enough, but he'd tempered himself at the bar that night for some reason, unknown even to him; might have been something about a half glance johnny gave him from across the table, a burning gaze so barely glimpsed he might have imagined it, he didn't know but something in him said to be a little more cautious that night, have one less shot, or else he might do something even stupider than anything else he'd ever done, and that was a long list.

he slides out of bed and goes to the window, moving the curtain aside a bit to see the street below. sounds far away, faint faraway things that might be screams of pain or joy or excitement or grief. he can't tell, will never know. heat lightning in the distance, vague rumbles rolling down the street, muted enough to be thunder or engines. he reaches for the cigarettes he'd laid on the desk earlier and lights one, cracking the window to let the smoke out. kathy hates waking up to cigarette smoke, even though she smokes just as much as he does, maybe more, depending on the day. depending on how annoyed she is with him.

just looking out at the street is pulling at him, whispering to him. summer nights are his favorite. something about an empty road, dark except where their bikes light everything up like fireflies in formation, buildings and bridges and cornfields streaking by like the club is standing still and everything else is what's moving, whooshing past with a blast of warm air turned cool with its movement. riding at night in the summer is like jumping into a calm pool of water - there's some indefinable joy in disturbing something so still, revving life and action and movement into the dead stale air. kathy at his back with her arms wrapped happily around him, smiling into his colors; johnny in front of him at the tip of the spear, upright and undeniable.

"what are you doin?" grumpy voiced kathy mumbles from the bed, her face half smushed into the pillow still. something woke her, a dream or a sound or a feeling. he hopes it wasn't the smoke.

"nothin," he says, taking another drag.

she mphs and turns her head toward him. she was annoyed with him tonight, he could tell at the bar and when they came home and made love; him or something else, or both him and something else. he is fine with that. he can weather it easy. she'll tell him or she won't; she'll get over it or she won't. he looks long at her lovely figure, straight hair fanned over the sheets, a battered old shirt of his stretched over her pretty shoulders, rucked up to her ribs on one side. there's a bird tattoo hiding on her ribcage, the edge of a wing in flight peeking out. he's fairly certain he's the only other person in the whole world who knows it's there. he's never asked when or why or what it means, but he's wondered at it, run his fingers over it, kissed it.

nothing is moving in the street, the distant shouts faded, the thunder rolled away; the night calls for him to smash its silence, dares him to scream into its face. He wants, the feeling both vague and unspeakably sharp. His bones are jumpy, twitch-happy, ready to leap up and just start going and going and going until he hits the end of the night like a wall and breaks through to... something else. a different world, maybe, or the absence of one.

[criticalfai1ure]

when cyrus falls again, he bangs his head on the deck allowing august a moment of clarity, stooping to retrieve his lost sword. his advance is cut off by some stupid bastard thinking himself a hero, intervening on holcroft’s behalf. august slices through him with little effort, but he is stopped again by another’s sword. a parry, a lunge, and his cutlass buries itself in the poor sailor’s gut, hungry for the blood it finds. captain! he hears her calling him from beyond the veil and his fury finds purchase in another of the dolphin’s crew, clanging and clashing against the defending steel, relentless in its endeavour to hurt anyone who dare stand in his way. who dared to have a part in this.

“august!” a hand grabs for his arm and august swings with wild abandon. the parry jars him but he swings again before the warmth that emanates from his opponent registers for what it is. for who she is.

“ingvi,” her name is a breath on the wind — a sharp contrast to the way he had wailed for her earlier, as he had been forced to watch the way her life was stolen. his sword is abandoned, clattering to the deck as horror overcomes him for what he’d nearly done. “ingvi,” he says again, pleading, “het spijt me, i’m sor-…” his gaze rises to the clouds as he blinks back the tears that sting, threatening to track down through the blood splattering his cheeks. he looks to her again, breath as heavy as his heart, and he moves to embrace her, hardly careful enough not to squeeze the miracle from her bones.

ingvild pats her captain, pulling from him enough that she can look into his eyes as she conveys, “your war is with holcroft, alone. it is not the fault of the crew for following their captain to a bitter, bloody end, as we all would for you – but these men do not deserve what you will do to them should you continue with this hatred in your heart.”

a hazel-eyed glare snaps to where cyrus lies, dazed. all of this, this bloodshed and hurt, this death that surrounds them, it is the fault of cyrus holcroft – but august knows, somewhere buried deep, that he could have ended this years ago if he had cared enough to take cyrus seriously. kees’ blood is on auggie’s hands too. a sigh almost stoops his shoulders, but he needs to be a captain, now. august uses a corner of his jacket to wipe at his face and calls out for the crew of de vlinder to subdue that of the dolphin. enough blood has been shed. “cyrus holcroft has lost. stand down or die with him. and know that it will be for nothing.”

ingvi takes his broken hand as he speaks to the men, gentle as she unwraps the binds of his hook. he hisses at the unexpected pain but allows her to continue with a nod. she is brimming with life and she shares it with him, mending the bones. it’s as if he blinks and the pain recedes altogether, though his hand retains some tenderness as he flexes it, taking the kaginawa back once he is confident in himself.

he stands beside ingvi, watching her as she looks to where cyrus lies. “you can kill him,” she says, and his eyes are drawn away from the golden mark on her forehead. “or we can tie him to the mast and scuttle the ship.”

his lips twitch, twist, but the heavy sorrow in his heart refuses to allow even a small smile that would normally find comfort on his facade. he doesn’t look behind him again, not yet. “i want him to suffer,” he says, voice low. as if speaking these words any louder might infect him with something incurably… wrong, “i need to see it in his eyes.”

ingvi offers him a sharp nod. “you take care of him. we’ll handle the rest.” she steps back, moving to oversee the efforts of rounding up the remains of the dolphin’s crew.

august watches her a moment longer, lingering on the way her hand rests atop the hilt of a weapon he’d never noticed before. ( he’s stalling and he knows it ). with a breath, he steels himself, shoulders back, he turns to make his way to the mast.

august kneels before the heap that makes up his brother-in-law. “are you happy, cyrus?” the fallen naval captain spits blood at the pirate’s feet in reply. a tut, “a decade and a half of your life wasted. for naught.” august pushes to his feet with a sneer that feels foreign to his facade. turning his back, he nods to fabian, wandering closer to where pax is overseeing the men lower kees. fabian and a rigger, muldoon, step forward to drag holcroft to his feet.

“you’ll hang for this, hoek,” the words ring out, acidic. barbed. cyrus holcroft was nothing if not ready to drive another dagger into august’s heart, even with his life standing in the balance such as it does in this moment.

a searing fire ignites in august’s eyes. one that had never before taken residence and, when he spins on his heel, fabian and muldoon avert their gaze with the intensity of it. long steps cross the deck until his lips are centimetres from cyrus’ ear, the dual pronged hook pressing against the other side of holcroft’s neck — a warning. “at least i’ll have earned it,” he hisses, venomous, “if only the same could be said of my sister’s love for a coward such as you.”

[nymphea0]

Until Death My love

Part 2.

Yandere husband x Wife Reader

Very long story, might be bad grammar or language in this story, so please correct me if theres any bad word or bad grammar. This story will came out with 4 chapter , so stay always love🦋🦋

word count around : 2000 words

Story Part 1 : Until Death My love

Story Part 3 : Until Death My Love

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The sound of many vehicles and street lights were the only things that decorated the darkness of the night' You don't know how it could end like this, there are so many moments that you have gone through with Alex, your beloved husband.

It shouldn't be like this, but it happened so fast.

That night as usual, you became an obedient and very good wife waiting for your husband to come home from work, you prepared dinner that you cooked yourself, even though the servants really wanted to help you cook, that night you were very stubborn and made several dishes such as shrimp pasta alfredo, and roast chicken.

You waited as usual in the dining room, like the nights you had gone through before. But that night, Alex came home early in the morning, your husband came home a little later than usual.

You looked at the street with a sad face and remembered what had happened to you before, that day you learned another secret from your husband, alexandrovic Reigent.

You learned that Alex was the leader of the mafia association, the same association, that destroyed the place where you worked as a staff of a famous restaurant. You think that Alex is an ordinary man that you dated during school, you spent your days so happily with Alex, then you graduated from school and continued to college, you and Alex even studied in the same place with different majors.

Then you graduated with mediocre grades, until Alex said he wanted to build a business in the mining sector.

At first you didn't think that Alex's business would be very successful, but you were very happy with the success of Alex's business. Until one day Alex proposed to you to be his wife, right when it was your birthday.

That day you felt like the happiest woman in the world. .

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'Date 05 01 19xx'

That was the day Alex went on his business trip as a CEO of a company that handles coal affairs. Like a normal day you prepared your husband's clothes, helped him put on his shirt.

"Alex how long will you be away on business?"

"Love ...I won't be gone for long, just 5 days .... hmmm? Do you miss me already?"

Your husband, Alex, coquettishly pouted at you who was busy tidying up his work needs.

"No, I don't miss you."

In a playful tone you answered Alex who seemed ready to tickle you.

That morning was filled with laughter and happiness flowing in the residence you shared with Alex. .

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That afternoon was very boring without Alex, your husband for the next 5 days, at that time you for some reason really wanted to clean the room where Alex worked.

Alex's work room. As usual the servants at home really didn't want you to work, they looked as if they were afraid of something wrong with you.

Until you forced them and they had no other choice but to let you do what you wanted, well who would dare try to stop the wife of the Reigent house?.

Carrying a broom and cleaning equipment, you opened the door to Alex's work room, the room had a luxurious impression as Alex's job as a CEO of a coal company.

A room polished with African black wood, walls that are added with furniture such as classic lamps, lots of bookshelves and a document shelf.

A small pantry table that provides coffee and tea editing tools when Alex wants to drink something.

A polished work desk with additional high-quality marble with additional computers and also some documents scattered on the desk.

In short, this room is very comfortable and has a distinctive Alex smell, a blend of mint and a little musk aroma.

At first you tidy up and clean the desk where Alex works. Until you clean the bookshelf where Alex keeps books containing world history.

You clean the bookshelf carefully, rearranging the books. Each bookshelf is given a little space between 1 bookshelf and another, with the placement of a flower pot and also a classic lamp on the wall as a divider between shelves 1 and the others.

But when you were about to go to another shelf that you were going to clean next, your feet accidentally slipped between the black carpet that was the base of the shelf, with human instinct you held onto anything so that you wouldn't fall or get hurt, expert at holding bookshelves, you actually held onto the handle of a classic lamp that was quite low and you could reach.

With strong pressure you held the lamp, unfortunately when you thought it wouldn't fall, the chandelier was actually pulled down as you were going to fall, and you ended up falling with the wooden lamp that looked bent downwards.

After standing up and getting rid of the pain from the fall, you tried to fix the lamp to its original position.

But before you could even fix the poor lamp, you realized that the bookshelf you had previously cleaned was slightly tilted from the wall and showed a small gap, out of curiosity you tried to pull the bookshelf.

And there you see a small room with an area and size of 2 footsteps, the room is empty with 3 walls covered in black wallpaper and only lit by 1 lamp on the wall, on the floor there is a round carpet the same color as the walls in the room.

You think, what is this narrow room built for?, with slow steps you enter the room, trying to feel the walls but nothing happens. At that time when you think maybe this small room was built to store Alex's useless files.

When you was about to get out of the small room, my feet accidentally tripped over a lump protruding from the black carpet. Get up slowly and stand up, you try to push the carpet out of the room.

At that time, instead of the floor you saw, you saw a wooden door that was attached to the floor. Looking around, you exit the room and walk slowly towards Alex's study door, then with one turn, you lock Alex's study from the inside and walk back into the room.

Making up your mind, you open the wooden door, it's a little hard to open, but finally the door opens and reveals a staircase leading down, you don't see anything, it's very dark down there.

A dark basement!

When you look around the bottom of the stairs, you see a small light switch that is integrated into the wall right on the first step.

With a 'Click' a light shines under the room, holding a broom, you go down the stairs. Every step you take on the stairs creates a very unpleasant sound to hear.

Until the last step, you can clearly see this basement.

This room is very classic but looks luxurious. There are leather sofas lined up around a glass table, there is a bar table and also a billiard table, there is a television with a wide and thin screen and is very luxurious which is displayed facing the leather sofa.

Slowly you look around and realize that there are many shelves for storing wine bottles and other liquor, you always knew that Alex really liked alcohol beyond your expectations, but you didn't know that this room even existed in this house.

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The house where you and Alex live, a 3-story house, with a very large front and back yard, equipped with flower gardens and also a small lake that flows behind your house.

During the 2 years of your marriage with Alex, you didn't know that this room existed.

Walking through this basement, you see about 3 gold and black framed picture displayed on the wall, approaching the picture.

The first picture , is a picture of you and Alex who have just finished their wedding, in the picture you are very beautiful and beautiful, sitting smiling happily while holding a bouquet of flowers, while Alex stands behind you while holding your left shoulder, Alex is wearing a black shirt combined with a collar decoration and also a gold hanger on his jacket pocket which is united with roses.

Under the picture is your name and Alex's name and the date you got married.

Picture of alex and his family wearing all black suits, you don't know much about alex's family.

But when you married alex, only his mother and father came, you don't know why his other family didn't come, alex only told you that his other family was anti-social, and after that you didn't ask much.

On the wedding day, his father and mother didn't talk to you, but you only got a soft smile from his mother and a cold stare from his father.

In the picture there are so many people you don't know, they all sit in rows on the benches, but there's something strange, there are several women sitting on their knees below among several men you don't know. Then you see alex and his mother and father sitting in the right row that doesn't blend with the middle row, there you can see alex with an unfriendly and expressionless face, a facial expression that you didn't even know alex could make.

Under the frame, there is a bold text that contains.

'ARCEINT REIGENT FAMILY'

You don't think much and just guess that Arceint is Alex's extended family name.

Then, the last frame is a picture of Alex and his parents, and 4 people you don't know, they each sit on a bench, while the 4 people you don't know, 2 of them are men and they sit on a bench, but the other 2 are women, and they kneel beside the seats of the 2 men.

Blinking slowly, under the frame contains the name Alexandrovic Reigent Arceint, followed by Alex's father, Rovalnov Reigent Arceint, then Alex's mother, Ilvanna Rosye.

And the names of the 2 men whose names you are not sure which one is correct are Xirent Reigent Arceint, then the other one is William Reigent Arceint.

You can only guess that maybe these 2 people are Alex's older or younger siblings. Since dating and getting married, Alex has been very secretive about his family.

Looking at the other names there are 2 other names written there, you guess it is the name of 2 women who are sitting on their knees side by side.

The names there are written as, Lilya Ergevan, and also Belleriya Woods.

You think that why their names seem so beautiful and elegant?

Looking around the room again, you think to continue cleaning up Alex's work room that was delayed and only conclude that this basement room could be a room where Alex relaxes when he misses his family.

Just as you are about to step on a step, your eyes accidentally catch a corner of the room that is quite dark, and there is a white door in the corner.

People used to say, curiosity can be your death, so be careful.

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*Source image : Pinterest

©️Nymphea0 2024 , OG story . Project Dark Romance Story 1.

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions , Always be good people Dear. Much love , Neva🦋🦋.

@snowflakes666

[lvrxly]

ִ ࣪𖤐- An Odd Feeling

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

summary: your neighbor, Simon, is a single dad. and you frequently babysit his son, Oliver. You've grown to love Oliver, buying toys for him, planning play dates, and even offering to babysit him while his dad goes on a date..wait what? You really thought after all of this Simon would choose you, but maybe he will..?

cw: simon is somewhat oblivious at the beginning >:((, mdni - smut, slight age difference (Simon is in his mid-30s while the reader is in her mid-20s), unprotected sex, breeding kink on Simon's part, oral sex (f receiving), Simon can't help but want another kid after seeing how you treat his :((

a/n: sorry this took so long to get posted! and i apologize for any grammar mistakes, i don't have the energy to edit this right now ;( (it's almost 4am).

hope you enjoy lovies ;)

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"Thanks again for this love, I should be back around 9pm, please try and get him to bed before then," Ghost says frantically as he passes his son over to you along with his diaper bag and favorite blanket.

There was that damned nickname again. 'Love'. Simon always seemed to call you love, it was almost infuriating how that little pet name could make your heart race and your cheeks heat.

Simon had a date with someone a friend of his set up for him, Soap, you think was the guys name. From a photo Simon showed you, she was pretty, gorgeous even. Slim and tall, long blonde hair, and seemingly put together.

"Yeah no problem. Have fun, try and get laid. You definitely need it," You say with a dry laugh, bouncing his son, Oliver, over to your other hip. Why the fuck would you say that? 'Get laid?' Why would you even suggest such a fucking thing knowing you can barely stomach watching him go out on this date in the first place.

He cleans up nice, a fitted pair of dark grey khaki pants with a white button up shirt, the sleeves rolled, revealing his tattooed forearms, and his sandy blonde hair slicked back out of his face, making him less shaggy looking than you were used to.

Simon laughs and waves goodbye as he turns on the heels of his dress shoes and hops down the steps of your front porch. You wave at his back, shutting the door with a heavy sigh. You turn around and set Oliver down, watching as he bolts toward the little corner of your living room which you had designated as his play area for when he comes over.

Your heart feels heavy as you walk over towards your couch, tossing Oliver's diaper bag and blanket onto one of the cushions. You flop down onto the other cushion, kicking your feet up on the coffee table that is placed in front of your couch.

Oliver looks just like his father, from what you could see anyways. Dirty blonde hair, gunmetal blue eyes, and a small dimple on his left cheek. He was an adorable kid, an easy one to babysit too.

Oliver runs up to you, a toy tractor in his hand as he holds it up to you, his other hand rested on your knee as if to help him balance better. "Tac-tar!" He exclaims.

You smile at him, taking the toy he was offering you, and touching your fingertip on his nose, causing the little boy to giggle. Enough about Simon. Oliver was your date tonight. Your own play date buddy.

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It was a little after 9pm, maybe just about 9:47, when Simon got back. He had knocked on your door for a good 5 minutes before he gave up and decided to let himself in.

He used the key that you would poorly hide under your doormat. The two of you would get into arguments about the placement of the key.

"It's the most obvious spot, love, you're gonna end up getting robbed on of these days." Simon had said the day you told him where it was, he was always worrying about your safety. You knew he was an ex-military Lieutenant, but then again that might just be the dad in him talking.

After unlocking your front door and pushing it open he begins to speak, "Sorry I was a little later than I thou-" But he cuts himself off after his eyes land on your couch.

There you laid on your back, an arm falling off the couch and a leg propped up on the back cushion, snoring lightly. That position couldn't have been that comfortable. But that's not what made him freeze. It was how his son was laying on your chest, fast asleep with his favorite blanket draped over his back. You looked as if his son was your own.

His breathe is caught in his throat as he stares at the two of you, slowly shutting the door behind him as he makes his way over to the couch.

A small smile paints his face as he stands behind the small and slightly sad turquoise couch, bending down so his forearms rested in the back cushion. He watches you sleep, his eyes dragging up and down your frame. After a moment he uses a single finger to brush a stray piece of hair off of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

His smile never falters as he pets the back of his sons head, his long blonde hair slightly sweaty from how hot it probably was being all nuzzled up to you.

You stir in your sleep, your eyes fluttering, only for them to end up shooting wide open in shock. You gasp and clutch the back of Oliver, sighing after realizing who was really watching you sleep.

You sit up, cradling Oliver in your arms, careful not to wake him. "Do you normally watch people sleep?" You say with an annoyed look on your face as you rub your eyes, sleep still attempting to pull you back in.

After regaining most of your consciousness, you stand from the couch, your clothes wrinkled and Oliver's little head on your shoulder as you hold him in your arms.

"Eh, define normally," Simon says, a joking tone noticeable in his voice. Was he trying to make a joke? Since when did Simon Riley ever makes jokes? What the hell happened at the date?

"Your in a good mood. You didn't really end up getting laid right? You know what..? I don't think I wanna know." Your words are frantic and slightly irritated. Why did you feel so...odd right now? Simon is a single man. He has the right to go on dates with beautiful women. Unfortunately.

You bounce around your kitchen, rocking your hips side to side to keep Oliver asleep for as long as possible. You can't help but notice how Simons eyes follow your hips as they move. And..what was that? Did he just groan? No no, that would be crazy.

"No I didn't get laid," He finally replies. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Almost like a breath of relief.

"If I was getting laid I would have gotten back a lot later..It takes more than 30 minutes with me, love.." Simon was suddenly behind you, his breath hot on your neck as his hands hover above your hips, heat radiating off of his tatted skin, almost scorching the flesh of your thighs through your pants.

You stop bouncing his son, glancing over your shoulder at Simon and..holy shit he was close, almost too close. Those damned eyes were pulling you under and you didn't know if you wanted to be saved.

Oliver shifts in your arms, waking up slowly. His tiny hands rub his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. Once he's awake and spots his dad he immediately makes grabby hands towards him.

You gladly hand him over to Simon, anything to get away from the man that was way way wayyyy to close for comfort. You give Oliver to his father and take a large step away from Simon. You see his smile falter but he quickly regains his composure when his son calls his name, his tiny hands on Simons cheeks.

"You have fun while I was away buddy?" He asks his son, to which Oliver responds with a vigorous nod. He then begins to blabble on about his trucks and snacks he ate, but you space out, your eyes still locked on the two of them.

Simon looked so good with a kid, he was a good dad. You can't help but imagine how good he must have been to his wife while she was pregnant. Her lose for leaving him. He's a great guy. Unfortunately, that means women probably throw themselves at him. Hot, ex-military, AND good with kids??? Yeah, they definitely do. And you would to, if you were so full of self doubt.

"Love?" You hear Simon say, his eyes now focused on you as Oliver was seemingly put down to go play for a little longer.

"I asked if you're free this weekend? Oliver is going over to his grandparents for a few days and I was wondering if you'd like to do something?" His voice was shy...that was weird. It's almost like-

"Are you asking me on a date?" You say, a teasing smirk playing across your lips.

"No no, well- no it's not like that. Just as friends, you know- without the ruckus of that one running around." When he says "that one" he points towards Oliver, who was currently crashing two tractors together and making a crash sound with his mouth.

"You know what? Sure Simon. I'll see you then."

He smiles, nodding softly as he runs his hands through his hair, the gelled effect must have worn off because it was back to its shaggy state, almost getting to the point it reached his eyes. He needed a haircut, but it's not like you didn't like the shaggy look. It was unexpectedly sexy.

Maybe it was just your hormones talking but everything about this man was unexpectedly sexy. His tired eyes from sleepless nights and early mornings, his tatted arms, a few of the tattoos colored in with what seemed like marker from Oliver, and his tall frame, almost towering over you to the point you had to look up to see his face.

You did suggest that he should get laid, but maybe you're the one who really needed the action. It's been who knows how long, and your getting so desperate that you literally can't look at him without butterflies fluttering in your stomach as well as..further south.

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After sending Simon and his son home, you immediately ran to your bedroom, quickly stripping out of your clothes and hopping into the warm water of your shower. With your back to the water and your hands in your hair, you can't help but let your mind wander back to your neighbor.

What was he doing right now? Was he helping Oliver brush his teeth? Was he just getting into the shower too? Was his shower water warm or cool? Did he have tattoos elsewhere? What did the soap look like running down his chest and down his legs..?

Okay, you need to go to bed. Sleep would do the trick. Right?

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Wrong. Sleep 100% didn't do the trick. Two full days of almost nothing but sleep and this man has been filling your head with thought of him, some more naughty than other. He had crawled into your dreams, your thoughts, and your daily life in general. You cant even pour creamer into your coffee without seeing his smug ass face in your mug.

It was now the weekend, around 7pm on a Saturday. The sun had already gone down and you were sitting in your living room, a random cheesy rom com on the television as you scrolled on your phone. You scrolled through your feed, seeing videos of your college friends out partying, drinking, and having fun. Then there was you, sitting at home with day old mascara on your lashes and sleep evident on your face.

There was a heavy knock on your door, with a raised brow you hop up from your couch and make your way over to the door, peaking through the peep hole to see who it was. And to your surprise, it was exactly who you were thinking of.

There Simon stood, a bottle of champagne and a single red rose in his hands as he bounces on his heels, he was back to his regular shaggy look, unkempt hair, white t-shirt, blue jeans, and his silver dog tag hanging from his neck.

Quickly, you open the door with a smile and invite the man in. As he walks in towards your kitchen counter you quickly become aware of your appearance. Old makeup on your face, and crinkled clothes that you couldn't be bothered to iron.

However, at this point the two of you have seen each other at your worst, hell you've seen Simon running off of two hours of sleep with a sick little Oliver who wouldn't stop crying and coughing.

"Champagne and a rose? This feels like a date to me.." You tease running a hand across his shoulder as you pass him, earning a shiver from the man. you stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island as he takes a seat on one of the barstool chairs you have, sliding the bottle towards you.

"Take it however you want love." He laughs, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face, his bicep flexing in the process, and holy fuck.

You shake your head and pop open the bottle of champagne. "I'm glad I know you and Oliver, he's a good kid."

"You're such a big help with the little guy, I honestly don't know what I'd do without you. He loves you a lot." Simon is more soft spoken than usual as he twirls the rose between his fingertips.

You're frantically searching your cabinets for those champagne glasses you got all those years ago but have never used. You swear you still had them.

"It's no biggy. He's a joy to have around and probably one of my only friends!" You laugh, sighing after you cant find those dumbass champagne glasses and grabbing two mugs out of the cabinet instead. Not quite what you'd normally drink something like champagne out of, but it would have to work.

"So I'm not considered a friend? I see how it is," Simon fakes a hurt expression as he takes a mug from you with a raised brow. His shoulders shake in silent laughter after he looks at the mug to which it read "Male Tears" in big black lettering.

You laugh along with him, "Eh, I kinda like your son more than you, he's less broody," You tease, pouring the champagne into each of your mugs. Your mug saying "Reading is Sexy" with blue lettering.

There the two of you sat, at your kitchen island drinking cheap champagne out of coffee mugs with a single red rose placed between the two of you.

-

After a few hours and an entire bottle of champagne, the two of you sat on your couch together, a movie on your tv.

You sat with your legs draped across Simons lap, his hand resting on your knee as his fingers gently rubbed circles into your skin. It tickled, but in a good way.

You fought sleep, your eyelids slowly shutting and reopening. Your breath was calm and slow, a comfortable silence had fallen between the two of you.

"Gettin' sleepy love?" Simon asks with a chuckle, his deep blue eyes lingering on you as he rubs up and down the length of your leg.

You don't bother answering verbally, you don't have the energy. You shake your head in a quiet and small 'no', your hand coming up to rub your eyes. What time was it? It couldn't be that late.

With a groan, you sit up and grab your phone off of the coffee table, tapping your screen a few times for it to turn on. Your screen nearly blinds you, a curse falling from you lips as Simon merely chuckles next to you. 11:57. Almost midnight already? You thought, there's no way.

Simon peaks over your shoulder and shakes his head, running his hands over his face with a yawn. "Surely I haven't been here all that long, it's definitely past our bedtimes," he teases as he moves your legs off of his, standing from the couch with a stretch, his shirt lifting, showing off a fucking happy trail. This man was too hot for his own good. It had to be a crime at this point.

You stand next to him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you yawn, making your way lazily towards the direction of your bedroom.

"I better get ta' goin'-" Simon begins, before you cut him off.

"Oh please, theres no way in hell you came over here just to hang out as friends, Simon." Your voice is low as you stand before him, your bodies mere inches apart as you stare up at him. Messy hair, sleepy eyes, and those god damn dimples shining through as he smirks down at you. You fuckin' knew it.

His arms wrap around your waist, his face nearing yours as he walks you backwards into your kitchen, your hips hitting the kitchen island. "I've been caught."

His breath smelling of cheap champagne and cigarettes as his lips grazed yours. His lips are soft as he finally kisses you, fitting perfectly against yours.

Simons hands remove themselves from your waist, landing on the kitchen island, trapping you between him and the counter. You deepen the kiss, standing on your tippy toes to match his force, earning an audible groan from the blonde man in front of you.

When the kiss ends, nothing but heavy panting and quiet curses fill the air. "Fuckin' hell love.." he whispers against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up and down your warm skin.

Quiet whimpers leave your lips as his lips work their way up to your ear, where he whispers a phrase that makes your knees want to buckle. "Get on the fuckin' counter doll, I've waited far to long for this and my tongue is tingling for your taste.."

Obviously, you do as he says, hopping up onto the cool granite. "Atta girl," he says, his voice raspy as he tugs the waistband of your pants down, pulling them off your legs as if he's been craving you for years. Maybe he has been..

In a swift motion he pushed you onto your back, earning a quiet yelp from you as your back touched the cold surface. With his eyes glued on your panties and his hands on your plush thighs you can't help but whimper, letting your head fall back onto the counter top.

"Fuckin hell lovie, you're already so wet..." Simon says through gritted teeth, the pad of this thumb rubbing slow circles against your clit, the feeling of the pressure over the fabric of your panties was enough for you to clench around nothing.

"Simon please-" you whimper, your hips rolling against his touch, eager for more. This draws a chuckle from the man in front of you, he pulls his hand away with a smug smirk on his lips.

Not another word is shared between the two of you before Simon is kneeled on the tile flooring and he has your legs over his shoulders, his face at perfect height with your core. He pulls your panties to the side, groaning at the sight before him. He was so fucking hard right now, straining against the zipper of his pants.

He blows a cool puff of air against your cunt, watching as it flutters before it, his smirk never falters as he runs his thumb over your cunt, coving his finger in your juices.

"Riley I swear to the gods, if you don't stop playing with your food-" you begin, getting cut off with his tongue against your slit and his thumb rubbing circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves. His tongue works in and out of you, flicking and sucking, the noises that fill the kitchen are positively hypnotic. Your whimpers and moans mixed with the wet noises of Simons tongue between your legs. And to top it off, every time you buck your hips against his face he moans, a low growl like noise that makes you absolutely drip.

Simon is only using one hand to hold open your legs, his right hand has traveled down to his pants, unzipping his jeans and finally giving himself that oh so needed friction that he's been deprived of. His tongue goes flat against your cunt, his head shaking side to side, flicking his tongue every so often, just enough to catch the tip of your clit.

He palms himself through his boxers, rutting into the palm of his hand. "You like that baby? You're gettin' louder.." he teases as he sucks on your clit, causing your back to arch off of the counter top and your hands to fly to his hair, tugging on the blonde strands, pressing his face into your greedy little cunt even more.

"Simon! Right fucking there, please please please..." You moan, your thighs threatening to close around his head as your legs shake with pleasure. Your breath is quick and your moans are loud as Simon god damn Riley holds your legs open, sucking and licking your clit, you were about to fall apart right then and there, but after he shoves two fingers into your cunt you absolutely crumble.

The orgasm rushes throughout your body, your grip on his hair tight. He doesn't stop though, his tongue stays glued to your clit, his fingers moving at a pace that makes your writhe, drawing out this heavenly orgasm as long as he can.

You're already fucked out as he pulls his fingers out of you, kissing your fluttering cunt, kissing up your torso and tugging your shirt over your head to kiss all the way up your lips. This kiss was everything passionate, the taste of you still lingering on his lips.

Your eyelids are heavy and your chest rises with a quick pace, still trying to come down from your high. Sweat glitters your skin, your panties hanging from your ankle and your mascara running down your cheeks. "So beautiful, so fucking gorgeous baby.." Simon whispers as he kissed you on the forehead, running his hands over your cheeks. "But we're not done yet, no no no, this night isn't over until I fill you up so full that Oliver will have a fucking sibling by tomorrow.." His voice is deep and sultry, pulling you up off the counter by your wrists and tossing you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes.

With a yelp from you, Simon gives a little smacks to your ass. His quick strides make it to your bedroom in no time at all. He tossed you on the bed, you landing on your back, your toes bouncing along with the mattress, earning a low curse from the man in front of you. He stands at the end of your bed, quickly pulling his pants and boxers off of himself. He can't go another fucking second without being inside of you.

The image of this man crawling on top of you, his ink covered arms on either side of your head and your legs on either side of your hips as he pressed against you. It was all so much, your cunt was dripping, and from what you could see so was the tip of his cock.

Holy shit his cock, it was huge, veins running up and down the length of it. You figured he was from the start, but now that it's in front of you, how the hell will it all fit?

His hands reach for your thighs, pushing them up so your knees neared your ears, the tip of his cock teases the entrance of your cunt, the bead of pre-cum smearing all over your clit. You wiggle your hips, eager for something, anything but this fucking torturous teasing that this man seems so obsessed with.

"Simon.." You moan, earning a groan from the man. His eyes have not left you this entire time, his gaze wandering up and down your figure with a look of biting desire.

"Moaning my name like that..fuck," He groans through gritted teeth, pressing the tip of his cock inside, fucking finally.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, biting down on your bottom lip as you grip the sheets.

Simons eyes shut with pleasure as he pushes into you. Only to open once again to watch your face, watching for any looks of displeasure, he makes it about half way when your eyebrows furrow and your hand flies to his torso, pressing against his abdomen as a way to tell him to stop for a second.

"It's okay lovie, breath, you're taking me so well.." He whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek, kissing away a single stray tear that had seemingly rolled down your cheek. Slowly, he continues to push into you, the two of you share a mutual moan as he finally bottoms out, his stomach pressed flush against your clit.

"Good girl, my good girl baby, yes.." He moans, his hands under your knees as he holds one leg over his shoulder and the other off the the side.

Your whimpers, his groans, and the smell of sex fills the bedroom. You rock your hips, indicating the need for friction. With pleasure, Simon gives you what you needs, rolling his hips and pulling out about half way before slamming back inside you. Your loud moans and pleases for more, more, more fill the room, causing Simon to let out a guttural groan, hai cock twitching inside of you.

Simon shifted his hips, dragging his cock out of you. It glistened with your arousal, and it made his face grow hot. He bit back a whimper when he pushed inside you once more. You gasped, and he did it again. Again and again until he had a set a rhythm that had your entire body on fire, writhing against the mattress.

"Yes yes, fuck Simon, makin' m' feel so good, I-" You whimper, your legs shaking and your eyes squeezed shut out of pure pleasure.

Simon had reached a hand down and was now rubbing circles on your clit. Your words had his brain swimming, his thrusts deepening and pace quickening. The tight ball of pleasure was drawing tighter and tighter in the base of your tummy, your cunt fluttering around his cock.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good..wanna put a fuckin baby in you lovie..." His voice is low, his groans turning into whimpers as his thrusts become sloppy, he's nearing his own climax. Your own peak is nearing, your cunt fluttering around his cock, clenching and squeezing as he moves at a pace that is absolutely intoxicating.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered. "Come on my cock. That's it, baby, yeah– good fuckin' girl."

His finger moves quickly against your clit, rubbing as his cock bullies in and out of your greedy little cunt. The force of his thrusts make your tits bounce, earning deep and needy groans from the back of Simons throat.

You came around his cock with a sob of his name, your cunt squeezing him tight as the ball of pressure snapped in your tummy. Your orgasm was hard, slamming over you and rendering you breathless, your head floating. Your clit pulsed beneath the movements of his fingers.

The tightness of your cunt earned a fucked out moan from Simon as he slams in and out of you, reaching even deeper than before. You wanted to scream. He was so deep. You were so full.

"Such a good girl, suck a greedy little cunt— so tight I don't think I'll be able to pull out-, yes baby.." He blabbered helplessly as he becomes utterly pussydrunk, his head lolling back and his eyes closing with pleasure.

"M'gonna come in this tight cunt," Si whispered, almost too quiet for you to hear. He spoke louder when he continued his sentence. "You want my cum, baby? You want me to come inside you? Want me to fill you up, fill this pretty tummy?"

"Yes! Please—!" You practically scream.

"I will— I'll fill you up with all of my fuckin' cum.." He moans, his thrusts sloppy and his grip on your thighs bruising. "Take it all like a good girl," he moaned. "Get you–fuck —get you pregnant. Fill you up with my kids. I'd look after you, baby."

You were basically screaming.

And with that Simon cums, your name falling from his lips as the white hot liquid spills from his cock into you. He doesn't pull out, tugging you up so that you straddled his hips, his hands on your as as he holds you up, him leaning back against the heels of his feet. The two of you share a tender kiss, his lips softly kissing your lips, cheeks, and neck.

"Fuckin' hell love.." He laughs, his voice raspy. He finally pulls out, a deep groan slipping from his lips as he watches his cum drip out of that sweet little cunt. Carefully, he lays you back down on the mattress, staring down at you with low eyes and a small smile on his lips.

"You were so good just now, you know that? So beautiful, so fuckin' hot-" He moves so he's laid beside you, his chest pressed against your back as he rubs small circles on your hip with his finger. "-I loved your moans, and the feeling of your pussy..just stay like this with me for a second, yeah?" His hand runs up and down your side, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as his breath tickles the back of your neck.

What an odd feeling. It all felt as if everything had always been like this. As if the two of you were meant to be, and this was all just natural.

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆

Simon and You sit in your living room together, his hand on your thigh and Oliver running back and forth with a superman action figure in hand making a 'swooshhh' sound with his mouth.

The promise ring on your finger sparkles as you look down at it, you can't take your eyes off the damn thing. It's been a week since he's given it to you, but every time you eye catches the little piece of jewelry you can't help but stare.

Three years of crushing and helping him raise his kid. One night of his name being moaned and orgasm after orgasm. Two weeks form that night he asked you out. It's been four months since he asked you to be his girlfriend. Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. But not, at the same time. It feels like you've know each other forever so it was natural. Nothing odd about falling in love so quickly.

Or maybe the love has always been there, it was the commitment and the confessions and the confusing mixed signals that were messing with the process.

But in the end everything had fallen in place. Simon still lives next door, but that is gonna change soon. He spends more and more time over at your place than his own. Both his and Oliver's clothes litter your laundry, and instead of one lonely toothbrush in the bathroom, there's now three.

Pink, Blue, and a tiny red one for Oliver.

This was how it was meant to be. Simon, Oliver, and you. And possibly another one. Simon is pretty eager for that addition. Now that was a little fast even for you.

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆

a/n: not to singledad!simon anymore. <33

p.s.- i tagged everyone who i saw asked to be, sorry if i missed ya! and thank you all so so much for all the love. i love all of ya so so much! <33

[cupcakeslushie]

For your brainwash au, do we get so see exactly how Donnie got captured by Kendra? And would this au be a full comic or just bits and pieces here and there? (Not pressuring just curious) Love the au and I hope you’re having a good day! :)

Don’t know why, but I felt like writing this part out instead of drawing it! (Sorry for bad grammar. I wrote this lying in bed, sleep deprived and did no editing)

——

The sad, pained look on his little brother’s face is enough to set off that dark protective fire in Donatello’s belly. And Michael has been a tiny storm of negative emotions since Leo slapped the small cast on his ankle. Donnie may not be able to pick apart and decipher all of the subtitles his brother is feeling right now, but he knows he’s in pain, and that’s enough.

“How many strips of bacon do you think we can get from Meat Sweat’s corpse?” Donnie ponders as he wraps an arm around his little brother’s shoulders, and carefully pulls him closer. Mikey lets out a quiet huff, but the joke doesn’t land the way Donnie had been hoping.

“Michael?”

“I’m okay,” Mikey assures. Then a hesitant second later adds, “it’s stupid.”

“Oh well if it’s stupid, allow me to grab ‘Nardo. He might be able to help you better.”

That gets the laugh he was looking for.

“I’m not in pain or anything. It’s just, tonight was the midnight signing of Joshua Bear’s new cook book. He’s a YouTuber chef that I’ve been following for years, and I went to his first release…I really wanted the second for my collection.”

Donatello does vaguely remember Angelo telling Raph something about this event last night, during dinner. He’d been so excited, and now he looks crushed at the idea of missing it.

“What if I went?” At the suggestion, Mikey’s face becomes brighter than a super nova, almost too bright for Donnie to stare at directly. It takes a moment for Michael to really calm down enough to speak.

“You’d really go wait in line for three hours? Just to get a book?” Donatello laughs at the question. Any opportunity in which his brothers were interested in the world of literature, no matter the subject (except maybe geology) was a time to be supportive.

Mikey pulls him in for a tight hug, and holds up his phone to snap a picture of them. Donnie snorts and slides out of his little brother’s hammock, careful not to disturb it too much. Mikey is already bouncing enough that he’s in danger of falling out.

“Yes, yes. Sing my praises on all your media socials. Let the world know how I’m your favorite older sibling!” Mikey drops the phone to his chest and holds his arms up, practically vibrating for one more hug. Donnie complies. He’s long given up maintaining his bad boy image when it’s just the two of them.

“You’re the best, Donnie! Really!” The words do a hell of a job replacing that previous fury he’d been harboring, the smile and warmth coming from Mikey, now fully restored. The proper order of the universe righted with a simple solution. This was what he loved most about being a brother. Fixing his siblings problems, in any way he could. And if healing the broken bone outright was (for now) out of his control—at least he could do this.

Donnie glances at his watch and notes he should get going if the turn out is going to be as big as Angelo predicts. He sneaks past the living room where he can hear his other two brethren yelling over a game of Mario Kart. He has zero interest in either of his brothers tagging along. He loves them, but neither are suited to standing in a long line for hours. For the last Jupiter Jim reboot, Donatello was seconds away from a double fratricide before they were even allowed into the theater.

Besides. He’s practically 18 (in four weeks). He can run up to the surface for a few hours, without having to call upon the archaic buddy system.

———

He’s in line for about an hour, when he sees suspicious movement out the corner of his eye. A young woman, parting the line a little ways ahead from where he stands, walks quickly into the closest alley. That alone might be no cause for alarm—maybe it’s a short cut. But the tall, hooded creep trailing after her, has his metaphorical hackles rising. It’s a clear case of sinister intentions. He quickly glances around to see if anyone else has witnessed this, but he’s the only one who seems to be showing any type of concern. Typical New York.

“What a town” Donnie sighs. He doesn’t bother asking the old man behind him to save his spot, seeing as he’s practically at the end of the line, and quickly races to the alley to play hero.

It’s a deep one, the lights of the street not quite hitting all the eerie nooks and crannies. Plenty of blind spots.

“Hello there? Stalker and or damsel in distress? Is anyone in need of assistance? Anyone hopefully bear maced and in need of a being escorted to the nearest precinct?”

No answer.

The non-existent hairs on Donnie’s arms stand straight up. Just as he’s reaching for his ninpo to materialize a bo-staff, something thick wraps around his neck from behind. The arm is almost as big as Raphael’s, if lacking in the muscle department.

But before his can break the hold, the solid feeling of a needle slides into the meat of his neck and something rushes into his veins. Within seconds he’s released and stumbling from the lack of support.

Someone is talking to him. It takes a second of his gaze bouncing around to pick them out. Mildly embarrassing, considering they’re standing right in front of him now. Out of all the colors popping in and out of his vision, Donnie only just catches the same turquoise hoodie that seemed to belong to the unassuming young woman.

A honey pot trap, he realizes, stumbling and falling pathetically backwards on his own ass.

He sees pink hair and is almost relieved, if humiliated. With all their enemies, the Purple Dragons are D tier. But the chances he can free himself before his brothers even notice his absence is high. Just the thought of the savage teasing he would be forced to endure if his brothers found out—Donatello is not eager to hear any of it.

As the nauseating colors finally bleed away, and start to leave black growing in their wake, Donatello swears to cause a big explosion on his way out.

[limes-sagau]

Mondstadt Sagau Shimegi AU Drabbles

I'm Alive! 

Sorry this took a hot minute to put out, but here's the Mondstadt edition of the Shimeji AU. I did every playable character from Mondstadt, some of them have shorter sections *cough* Mika *cough* simply because they haven't had much screen time in the game or I don't know them well enough. In the future I might do an update post for some of them. Also this should be treated like crack. Now that this is out I can move on to actually writing the First chapter of To Build A Haven which should be up soon. 

ALBEDO:

Curious but not a menace 

He looks at everything your doing with absolute interest 

He wanders around looking at what you're doing and writing what he observes down on a notepad. 

If He’s really interested in something on the page you're on like a photo or text he will snag it to get a closer look (for those who don't know there is a function that allows shimeji to grab items and take them off screen, this can be reversed by simply refreshing). 

He gets a little miffed when you refresh to get the item back in its correct place but he's not upset for long. 

If you leave your computer he will end up messing around and looking up articles on chemistry and physics, he tried searching up alchemy and he just got led down a rabbit hole that he later found out was all fake.

So there's no alchemy in your world, interesting! 

Uhh Oh! He accidentally duplicated! 

He’s immediately on guard once he sees the duplicate

Is that his twin! No wait, the mark on the twins neck is there!

He realizes it is just a full carbon copy of him that just wanders around mindlessly.

He will get a little antsy if you let the duplicates get out of hand in their numbers so make sure to dismiss the duplicates 

He just wants to study this strange world in peace. 

AMBER:

She confused as hell. 

She waves to you whenever you return from getting up from your computer 

She is the opposite of a menace. 

She almost is too helpful 

She sees her knightly duty in this weird in between world to be of help to you. 

If you're easily distracted while working on something like a document she will wave her hands around and try to get your attention so you get back to work. 

And while she is not an expert in grammar she’ll try her best to point out errors in your sentencing. 

When you're not working on something important she has a lot of fun climbing the walls of your screen and jumping off to glide across your screen. 

If you pick her up with your  cursor and toss her she’ll laugh and glide down

Don't shake her though! She’ll get dizzy!

BARBARA: 

Shy babbie!

At first she's kinda cowering in the corner so confused as to what's happening and in awe of your presence. 

Eventually she chills out a bit but she never fully relaxes.

You got spotify going in the background?

Great! This is how Barbara got introduced to (insert music genre here) or (insert artist here) 

She will be scandalized if you play something with profanity, innuendos, or sexual references.

Like full clutching of pearls

Do not play Squidwards Nose for her. She is sweet baby, she doesn't deserve that. 

I'm sorry if some of yall dont like what I'm about to say… but the moment you play one of Taylor Swift's songs she's hooked.

I'm talking like something from Folklore, Evermore, or Midnights.

Her favorites are Clean, Willow, and Snow on the Beach (she does not like the F bomb in that one though)

She does try to give everything you listen to a fair shot even if it might not be her style.

If she likes the song she will sing and dance along to it.

BENNETT: 

He fall over all the time 

So Bennett will be like climbing the side of your screen and will lose his grip and fall. 

If you catch him he'll be so happy.

Hes kinda wandering around your page

He do be trippin (and not in the fun way) 

There was this time where he picked up one of the items on your screen and didn't know how to set it down.

He ran around scared and confused until you refreshed the page. 

If you pick him up and shake him, he will get dizzy. 

DILUC: 

He’s pretty chill 

He will start wandering the internet if you leave him alone with your computer open

Hopefully he doesn't find your fanfics

Who introduced him to Batman?!?!

JUSTICE FOR MONDSTADT!!!

Not that big into the superhero movies but he does really connect with Batman, who would have guessed. 

Show him the Mt. Dew wine or the Peeps Wine from TikTok and the disappointment will be so evident on his face. 

That's not even wine 

If you do bring up some articles on wine brewing and aging techniques he will read them and take some of the methods to possibly use at Dawn Winery. 

DIONA: 

She small she baby 

Normally she’s chill

But If you drink in her presence be prepared to experience the menace of menaces

Every time you leave your computer unattended expect to come back to either your browser being on a local AA group website or on a study showing the impacts of alcohol on the body. 

She aggressively points at what's on screen whenever you come back

She can be reasoned with if you give her a pat.

She can also be pacified by one of those videos of birds meant for cats

She also likes those games made for cats where it's like a bug or ants crawling across the screen and you gotta crush them. 

She tries to jump around the screen but she short, holding her up to catch all the crawlies. 

EULA:

Eula is confused by modern internet slang 

She mainly stands guard in the corner not wanting to get in your way 

She's in the overly respectful gang 

Don't pick her up and shake her she will seek revenge

Likes the cat videos on facebook though

She like the “going no contact with toxic family” type videos on TikTok since she can relate. 

Boomer but she working on it 

FISCHL:

Who let this theater major in the building?

She is by far the most distracting shimeji you can have on your browser 

“The Prinzessin der Verurteilung desires your attention at all hours” 

When your working you literally have to dismiss her if you want to get work done

If you leave her on screen when you leave your computer you will come back to her somehow reading Twilight.

The can of worms has been opened and Fischl's Twilight phase has been unleashed.

She also grows to love shakespeare if you ever have to read one of his works for a class

Holds up skull “Alas poor Yorick”

She does hate The Taming of the Shrew (if you know you know)   

JEAN: 

Like her sister she is also a bit confused 

This internet lingo is so confusing 

This is a facebook mom 

How did she get an account? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

The funny thing is is that she successfully and pretty accurately shuts down alot of bigoted people 

She gain like a cult following of converted beige housewives 

KAEYA:

He isnt distracting like Fischl is but he’s like a cat who wants attention so they climb over your keyboard until you gotta move them and give them pets. 

Menace 

He’s the worst when it comes to fishing your fics out of your files when your away 

You gotta lock them up, time to move everything to your phone… rip storage space. 

You accidentally introduce Kaeya to his new guilty pleasure besides Wine… Horse Girl Movies!!!!

It's bad… It's really bad, his favorites are the movies Spirit and Felicity (yes the American girl movie).

The man misses his horse, why do the favonius cavalry have no horses? the captain of the calvary should have a horse!

He also is somewhat interested in the wine industry from around your world. 

He might give you a list of types he would like you to bring if you ever visit their world. 

KLEE:

Protect this one because she's so smol.

But also keep her from blowing up your documents-

She picks up whatever she wants and will set it down in the wrONg place but if you scold her about it she’ll give you puppy eyes and apologize.

And then do the exact same thing not ten minutes later.

She will wander around wherever she can so do not let her out of your sight. Open tabs, downloads, files, browser history, nothing is safe.

LISA:

similar to albedo in that she is curious about everything.

She likes that she can chill out and read whatever comes on screen

One of the worst if she finds your writing

She will correct your grammar and give suggestions while actively flirtily mocking your work. 

Likes making you flustered in the middle of work 

She requested you make her a playlist on spotify so you sit down and show her a few artists you think she would like 

She adds a bunch of music from (Hayley Kyoko, Muna, Clario, Mxmtoon, and Janelle Monae) 

She listens to it when she's on your computer and you aren't around while she looks through the internet.

MIKA:

I don't know this child!!! 

Literally I know nothing, hopefully he gets more character time in future quests

I'll come add more latter if we are given more 

Spawn in a Len(vocaloid) Shimeji and he’ll be so confused 

Who is this doppelganger! 

MONA:

Girl is going insane learning our world's zodiac system!

You have to dismiss her sometimes because she asks so many questions, some of which you don't know the answer to. 

“What Do You Mean? It's Considered A Pseudoscience!!!” 

She is beyond insulted if you don't believe in astrology.  

If you do believe in astrology she's so excited 

Give her your Natal chart and she’ll be ecstatic

After she learns everything she can about your world's astrology, whenever you boot up your computer she’ll give you your horoscope for the day.   

NOELLE:

She’s so polite! :D

Doesn’t do much climbing, but when she does it’s to clean the cobwebs in the corners of your tabs.

Will remind you to drink water and have stretch breaks every so often and will be very sad if you don't.

You better clear your browser history before she tries to take a broom to it. she doesn’t deserve to see what you look at, you degenerate fifth.

She either likes ICP or studio ghibli soundtracks; there is no inbetween.

RAZOR:

Precious Puppy™

He is very confused by the internet but he’s still very curious . 

Will patiently watch you work and will bite pop-up ads

Starts looking up pictures of wolves cause he's a precious baby and ends up in the furry community. He is very confused. He is very scared. Save him before he learns what an omega is.

ROSARIA: 

She's chill 

She's easily bored so she will on occasion if you are doing work just dip out 

How did she figure out how to dismiss herself?

Most of the time she leaves when your working 

She will stay if there is a church event back on Teyvat that she wants to get out of. 

If you summon Fischl they will both watch Twilight together 

Though Rosaria will leave after the first movie, she doesn’t like any of the other movies. 

She also has a few strong opinions on the way that Stephanie Meyer handled Native Americans in the book. 

SUCROSE: 

very curious and intrigued by the internet and will watch you work from the top of your tab and take notes.

will ask a bunch of questions about and google the answers when you leave.

got into a fight with a redditor about something sciencey you didn’t understand and battled that man for hours.

She won.

She likes watching ted talks and documentaries when you’re on break and wiLL get lost in wikipedia if you let her. Please don’t let her because she is very small and that website is very big. 

VENTI: 

#1 MENACE!!!

He's up about climbing the walls and flying all about the screen. 

If you are trying to get work done good luck 

If you ask he will sit down and be somewhat quiet 

If you listen to music while you work he will either be singing along to it or if the BPM is fast enough singing and dancing along with the music. 

He likes listening to the music you listen to because he can learn what to perform if you ever come to Teyvat.

He at first will be thrown off if you listen to something that's more on the sexual side ( im talking something like Ayesha Erotica, or cupcakKe) but eventually he gets used to it and has a lot of fun distracting you when those types of songs come on. 

Like Kaeya, he is also interested in the wine from your world. 

You have to tell him to narrow down the list he gives you of wines to bring to Teyvat… it was 2 pages long.

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 2/2

summary: Wade tests out his previous hypothesis with great success. Might experiment more later.

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 3.6k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blowjob, itty bitty blood mention, slight angst, nightmares/PTSD, pining, cursing, claws, crude humor and language, fluff, touching, *cue start of something new from high school musical*, Wade's a little shit, cum drinking bc i guess that's what happened, deepthroating, lowkey face fucking, bad flirting but it's kinda reciprocated, wade is the throat goat next question, wade kissed his roommate and they both liked it

a/n: here she is :') thanks yall for the patience and all of the magnificent love and comments for part one ❤❤❤ means the world to me, especially since it's my first time stepping out of stucky territory as a whole. also got a little away with the tags 😅 hope yall enjoy this !

Not beta'd. Half-written on my phone, edited and revised in ellipsus + gdocs. Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

Wade forgot to turn the AC back on. 

It's his turn to sleep in bed tonight and he's got the worst case of swamp ass you can get this far from a fucking swamp. He's already thrown the covers, sheets, pillows, and his boxers off; he swears if he gets up there will be a sweaty version of a goddamn chalk outline on his mattress. 

He stretches. Notices he can feel both hands now, fully grown and everything, fingernails and all. Smirks to himself as he flexes his new fingers before reaching over to the nightstand– it's actually a really sturdy cardboard box, but it works just as good– for his phone. The screen responds with a bright 3:02AM overlayed on a photo of him and Vanessa. 

There's a pang in his heart for a moment. The same type of twist and pull he felt when Logan got up to leave after their big adventure (AKA saving their universe.)

“See you around?”

Wade tried to swallow the hard lump of desperate hope that had been bubbling inside of him the entire time they ate their shawarma. Hopes it wasn't obvious in his voice. Not a total cry for help, but definitely more of a solemn whimper and puppy dog eyes.

No matter how many times he was used to it– the people he loved leaving or dying or what have you– it still stung like a bitch. 

“Probably not.”

And Logan didn't mean for it to come out so harshly, but that's what happened when– and if– he got too close. To anyone. To everyone. 

With that, Logan rose from the bench, gathering his cowl and TVA jacket up from the place on the bench separating him and Wade and started walking. Dogpool whined and scratched at Wade's arms to chase after him. 

Wade had to do something. Anything. He couldn't let this one– this Logan. His Logan– walk off into the sunset.

No.

Not without him. 

“Logan!” 

And then he turned around. 

And now they're here. 

He feels a similar yank and tear elsewhere in his body– lower belly, groin area– whenever thoughts wander back to that glorious time in the Honda Odyssey; Adamantium stabbing in and out of his chest cavity, puncturing his lungs and literally taking his breath away. The tight feeling of multiple seat belts holding him down to the second row passenger seat and the sickeningly happy grin adorning Logan's face when he tied the last knot. Wade remembers smiling just as bright under his mask.

That one definitely got filed into ye ole spank bank for safe keeping.

Sighing, Wade remembers he's sweating like a hog and drops his legs over the edge, planting two clammy feet onto the creaky floorboards. He throws on his previously discarded pair of boxers just in case Logan has a case of insomnia. Gotta take a man out to dinner before you show him your dick, like a gentleman. 

Wade peaks his head out into the living room, TV glow assaulting his pupils like a flash bang. The door creaks open wider and Wade steps further out. He doesn't want to wake either furball– you'd be surprised how grumpy Dogpool gets when she doesn't get her beauty sleep– as he tiptoes out in front of the couch. 

His breath catches in his chest. 

Logan lies propped up on the couch, head resting on the arm with a throw pillow behind for support, arms crossed over a bare, hairy chest rising and falling slowly. A sheen of sweat coats his skin that reflects the changing colors of the TV. Half a snuffed cigar smolders on the coffee table ashtray. The semi-permanent crease between his brows is softer, perfect pink lips parted as he snores quietly.

And to top it all off, he's in his fucking boxers; his jeans are discarded on the opposite end of the couch, kicked off in his sleep to beat the heat.

Wade can't breathe. He can't help but stare, committing the heavenly scene to memory. A knowing smile slowly spreads across his chapped lips.

He's happy. Happy at how peaceful his roommate looks. Happy that Logan is finally feeling safe enough to sleep here. Genuinely. Wade knows first hand what it can be like to be constantly on the run, chasing peace and release, rest and safety. 

Tip toes make way to the thermostat, Wade presses the 'on' button to the AC when there's stirring behind him. Head turning slowly, he catches the tail end of Logan mumbling something in his sleep. 

“...Wade, please.” 

Wade freezes like a carjacker caught in an impound lot. Surely he didn't hear Logan, his roommate Logan– The X-Man, The Wolverine– fucking whining Wade's name in his sleep. 

What were the symptoms of heat stroke, again? 

Wade shuffles back over to the couch. Feels like a creep watching his fucking roommate sleep, waiting another moment to see if he needs to take a power drill and give himself a DIY lobotomy or not. 

“Mm… No, Wade…No, please, don't–” Logan murmurs softly. Struggling, brow furrowing, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Ngh… Don't hurt ‘im… please.” 

Logan begins to shake. His head whips from side to side against the pillow, hands dig into the couch cushions, grunting, fists clenching as his claws itch to defend from the phantom threat. Muscles tensing and chest heaving, his breathing grows harder, faster, more frantic. 

He's having a nightmare.

Wade recognizes the signs immediately. He knows where Logan's at: some distant memory with talons and sharp teeth assaulting his brain without him knowing. Hell on earth on the worst nights, a light ego beating and insomnia on the better ones.

Wade knows– his stopped two months ago. When Logan came home.

Without another thought– one in which he probably should’ve given– Wade climbs onto the couch to straddle Logan’s hips in the most non-horny way he can make it. Hands press into the center of Logan's chest. He gently calls his name, preparing for the sharp stab of Adamantium through an appendage and/or organ. Nothing he isn't used to at this point, but he secretly prays it isn't something totally major.

“Logan. Peanut, hey,” Wade whispers. He presses further into Logan, heat radiating off rough, hairy skin into Wade's tingling fingers. “Logan, it's me, Wade. You're having a nightmare, you’re scaring the kids–” 

SHNK. Intestines. Ten or fifteen points, depending on if it's big or small.  Wade's thankful it wasn't a kidney or his stomach– those are a bitch and a half to grow back.

“Okay– that was maybe warranted,” Wade grunts. Both sets of claws penetrate straight through his lower abdomen as Logan jolts awake, sitting up as much as he can while pinned under Wade. A gnarled scream catches in his throat. White-hot knuckles graze the skin of Wade's stomach, who is really, really trying his hardest not to get a boner right now. 

“Th’fuck's goin’ on?” Logan slurs, face inches from Wade's bare chest. He blinks. Once. Twice. His brow returns to its permanent crease as he adjusts to the scene before him: bright TV glow contrasts with dark shadows Wade casts over him.

Wade is on top of him and his claws are inside of Wade.

Face scrunching– not inherently in disgust, Wade hopes– claws retract with a muted grunt. Wade can breathe again while his body begins repairing itself. His hands are stuck to Logan's heaving chest, fingers fanning out over each delicious pec. Thick arms rest on either side of him, elbows bent and resting on Wade's thighs.

Wade swallows, praying the man currently underneath him either A. doesn't know where his hands are at the moment or B. this is going exactly the way he wet-dreamt it a few weeks ago. Completely unprompted too, by the way– he's no stranger to the sick side effects of PTSD, he wouldn't knowingly exploit that in order to get into his roommate's pants. He's got more class than that.

Well, most of the time, that is. Again, completely unintentional. Coincidence, if you will.

Maybe he does need that DIY lobotomy.

"Where th'hell am I?" Logan asks, voice less threatening and more alert. His eyes flick from the TV and travel up Wade to meet sympathetic chocolate eyes already on him. Wade peels each finger off Logan's chest and sits back on his knees. Gaze softening, hands fall into his lap inches above the chiseled V pointing to down under Logan's boxers. He doesn't dare move a fucking muscle.

His pinky finger twitches.

"You're okay. You're here, in my world, Peanut. Twenty-first century. New York. We use fifty-cals now, not muskets. You were having a nightmare–"

Wade's throat hitches. He's not gonna cry, no– he's not that much of a fucking empath, for chrissake– but what he wants to say versus what he probably should say get lodged together on the way down to his mouth from his brain.

"I– I did the pressure thing Dogpool does with me, sometimes. Except I thought you'd wanna wake up to this pretty face 'nd not one with drool."

Logan looks skeptical, searches Wade to see if he's actually telling the truth for once, features relaxing once he mulls it over in his head. Wade's gnawing at the inside of his cheek when Logan's thumbs subconsciously start rubbing slow circles over the toughened skin of his upper thigh. Upper-outer, to be exact, but right now Wade doesn't really want to dwell on the minute details.

"So," Logan starts, "you woke me up… 'cause I was havin' a nightmare…?"

"Well, not exactly because you were having a nightmare, no." Wade runs a hand over the top of the couch, distracting himself. "Al really likes this couch. Antique, actually. Vintage find. Be a shame if some man with claws–"

Logan's palms press into Wade's thighs. A warning.

"Mouth."

Wade sighs. Hands fall into his lap once more and he is absolutely not fighting to gawk at Logan's V that lights up like a road work sign pointing to a detour. The semi-hard abs just above definitely do not make him want to run his fucking tongue across them like a cheese grater.

He looks back to Logan, clears his throat. "Look I– I've been there. Am there, honestly. Didn't want you t'be alone whenever you woke up, but I also know how hard it is to wake up. So," he shrugs, voice lowering, "thought I'd help. Help you come down from it, I mean."

Logan stares back in response, eyes trained on Wade like a hunting dog and a downed fox. Wade swears the corner of his lip twitches along with the meaty hands on his legs.

He's gotta get the fuck out of here.

"So!" Wade starts, "Seems everything's in working order. The doctor will be in soon–" Wade starts to scramble off before realizing Logan's holding him down. Sharp claw stubs poke into scarred skin and a deep growl rumbles out of Logan's chest. Not necessarily threatening, no, more of a 'you're not goin' anywhere.' Wade gulps, hands raise up jokingly, forcing his racing mind to think of a naked, cross-country skiing Al to stave off the blood violently rushing to his stubborn cock.

Logan sits up, closing the space between him and Wade. Hazel eyes study wide brown ones. Logan takes a breath, shaky but sure.

"Don't want y't'go. Not– not yet."

It's hesitant. Unsure but curious, quiet enough Wade thinks he's hallucinating again. Wade mulls it over, leans forward with hands back on Logan's chest, skin and muscles taught underneath with tactile tension.

Wade sucks in a breath, moves his hands higher to Logan's collarbone and it's grossly apparent how tense Logan is. Hostile to any sudden movement, untrusting of touch to the point his fists shake against Wade's legs. A slow, tender hand inches up Logan's throat and onto his cheek. Wade feels through the rough facial hair and unkempt stubble, a thumb finds the shaved spot at the point of Logan's chin and strokes gently. Fists start to unclench, but there's a hesitancy still lingering in the air, under Logan's skin. Wade thinks it smells like fear. Inches away, face to face, breaths fan eachother's faces.

There's a shift in the air and Wade leans forward.

Logan doesn't stop Wade from connecting them together, lips touching lips in the softest manner possible. Almost feels like there's nothing there, Wade's too gentle. Nobody moves, breathes, at first; they're each trying to make sense of what the fuck exactly is happening. Logan isn't saying no, isn't sawing through Wade's skull and Wade isn't pushing himself on Logan.

Okay, maybe leaning in to kiss his roommate might be pushing himself on Logan to the logical bystander, but in the moment it just felt right.

To Wade's surprise, Logan's the first to move.

His lips start molding into Wade's. There's pressure, a little pushing, chapped skin and the remnants of tobacco on his breath when his lips part and his tongue pokes ever-so-slightly through. Wade pushes back, hoping his breath isn't as abhorrently delicious as leftover cigar. He tilts his head, nose poking into Logan's cheek as his does Wade's, and lets his tongue explore a little more. Logan allows him in, meeting him at the tip and hungrily welcoming him. Breaths turn heavy, panting, while hands begin to roam, more comfortable now that they've crossed the line into 'spit swapping' territory.

Wade drinks him in. Greedily swallows the choked-back groans Logan keeps holding in his throat that come out as muted mewls. Fingernails wantonly dig into one another and leave temporary marks that disappear under rapid replacement cells.

It feels like forever when Wade finally comes up for air, unable to focus with the growing hardness digging into his thigh.

"I–fuckin' shit– I think I have an idea." Wade pants like a dog in heat– and fuck, he might as well be at this point. Logan pulls back with lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

"'s that?" He's hesitant. Hands tense slightly over Wade's back, his whole body stiffens.

"Do you– do you trust me?"

Wade holds his breath.

Logan only nods. Adam's apple bobbing, lips part in anticipation and curiosity.

Wade strokes Logan's cheek in reassurance, shoots him a wink before shimmying down his body to the other end of the couch, keeping Logan's legs in between his thighs. Fingers hook around Logan's boxers, in turn causing Logan to jolt up immediately. A set of claws unsheathe an inch away from Wade's throat.

"Th'fuck are you doin'?"

Wade only smiles, taking a hand away and kissing the tip of the middle claw, gently pushing it back into Logan's fist and coaxing him to lay back down. What he's about to do would be easier with an in-tact esophagus.

"Relax, Peanut," Wade coos, "'m not gonna hurtcha."

Logan stares at Wade. Eyes pinch, still suspicious.

"…Promise?"

A sharp pang ripples through Wade's heart.

"Promise."

Logan hesitates, relaxes, gives another go-ahead. Wade's fingers curl once again around the waistband of his boxers and slowly, but surely, pull them down and off him. He can't help the immediate salivatory reflex upon seeing Logan in all his glory; the deep V lights up like a fucking Vegas sign pointing straight to the jackpot.

Logan's big– like, big big. Biggest Wade's ever seen (and Wade's seen a LOT.) An automatic response, Wade's asshole clenches, mistakenly preparing to take Logan. Wade forces himself to relax– that's not happening tonight. He promised Logan he'd go slow, no surprises, no whipped cream or leather cuffs.

Not yet, at least.

His own cock weeps happy tears through his briefs. He cannot believe how perfect– how beautiful– how fucking huge Logan is.

"What're you gonna do?" Logan whispers, hesitant eyes hooking on Wade and every little movement he makes.

"If it's alright with you, 1972 Burt Reynolds, 'm gonna suck every ounce of tension out of your perfect, hairy body and make you feel the best you've felt in a looong time."

Logan scoffs a laugh, brow furrowing as he shakes his head slightly. "Don't know who–"

Wade shushes him. "Don't worry, baby girl. I'll be your Sally Field."

Wade smirks at Logan's confusion and mentally makes a note to his future-self to show Logan the glory that is Smokey and the Bandit.

A gentle hand steadies the base of Logan's cock while another slowly wraps around his stiffness, standing at attention and beginning to cry, begging for Wade's touch. Heavy breathing and bitten-back grunts fill Wade's ears. It's a heavenly symphony he's lucky enough to have a front and center seat for. Free ticket, too.

"Ngh– Red, whatever you're gonna do– ah–!"

Wade presses his lips to the base, bush of hair tickling his nose and lips while he kisses his way up to the head, tongue poking out to lap up the precum. Before siccing his lips around Logan, Wade looks up once more, mostly searching for permission to help him feel pleasure for once instead of pain.

Logan reads Wade's mind and sends a small nod in response.

With a shit-eating smirk, Wade welcomes Logan into his mouth, flattening his tongue and curving his lips over his teeth so as not to scratch the sensitive, velvety skin. Drool spills out the corners of Wade's mouth and swallows a gag when Logan jams into the back of his throat, digging into his uvula. Squeezing the base and cupping the balls, Wade begins to bob his head to the rhythm of Logan's mess of 'fuck's, 'shit's, and–

"Mmm–Oh–oh, my god," Logan moans. A calloused hand runs over Wade's bald head, scars and grafts rippling under his touch while another hand grips tightly onto the side of the couch. Wade slurps up every drop of precum, relishing in the sweet musk of Logan's scent, head bobbing and tongue swirling in tandem. Logan's hips buck up into Wade, fucking his throat without meaning to. No amount of lozenges or peppermint tea will be able to cure the sore throat Wade knows he'll have come morning.

"F–fuck, Wade, baby– shit– that feels so–!"

Another lengthy dive down onto Logan hits the very back of Wade's throat, pulling a long, strenuous 'fuck' from the deepest part of Logan. He bucks harder into Wade who stalls, choking on Logan's cock while his own strains against his briefs. Another swipe of tongue, another gag and seeping drool, and Logan is officially done for.

"F–fuck! Motherfucker! Oh my, god, Wade–!"

Curses and chants and shaky breaths fill the living room as Logan spills into Wade with an 'O' on his lips and a hand on the back of Wade's head. There's a sharp shngk and a sting at the tip of Wade's ear as red warmth drips down onto Logan's thigh; his claws unsheathe into the couch this time, not Wade, who slurps and sucks every last drop of mutant cum from Logan's softening cock like it's the Fountain of fucking Eden.

He comes up for air, finally, lungs gasping against a swollen, fucked throat. He sits back panting on his thighs and Logan's legs underneath, a mix of cum and drool and the slightest bit of blood running down his cheeks and neck. Wiping away the mess with the back of a hand, blurry vision focuses back into reality and onto his roommate.

His roommate. Logan. Wolverine. Who's dick he just sucked the ever-living hell out of.

Well this is awkward.

Wade swallows, offers a crooked half-smile to the man who he just sucked, fucked, and milked dry.

"How 'bout them Yankees?"

Logan barks a laugh. A real, genuine laugh, one with teeth and spread lips and legitimate amusement. Wade preens.

"That was–" Logan wipes beads of sweat off his brow, "Fuck it. That was fuckin' amazing, Wade." He stuffs a hand behind his head, blinks a couple of times to recalibrate. "Didn't know that mouth did anything else 'sides talk."

Wade shrugs cutesily. "It impresses me sometimes, too. Helps when I have a willing participant. Just hope you signed the paperwork."

Logan shakes his head. Arms reach up to grab onto Wade, pulling an ear to Logan's lips.

"Now how 'bout we take care of you next, baby? Hm?"

\|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/

Morning sun and a weight on his chests wakes Logan from probably the most peaceful sleep he's had in… well, ever, honestly.

There's a wetness and mix of smells wafting into his nostrils that make him stir next; combination of what feels like a tongue on his cheek making way towards his lips, dog breath, and the sweet smell of something cooking in the kitchen. Eyes fly open when a whine vibrates on his chest, finding himself greeted by Dogpool wagging her rat-tail with eyes bugging out of her little head.

"Gah– get off me, mutt," Logan scolds, sitting up and gently shoving Dogpool onto the couch cushion next to him. He runs a hand over his face and into his hair, the crick in his neck a little less noticeable this morning.

"Gooooood morning, sunshine!"

Logan looks up with tired eyes still adjusting to the morning light to find Wade in his robe covered in flour with a mixing bowl cradled in his arm as he stirs. Last night comes screeching back to Logan as soon as he locks eyes with his roommate, mouth going dry and dick twitching in his boxers.

Wade only smiles, not at all hiding his obvious glance at Logan's crotch. "You want chocolate chips or blueberries in yours?"

Logan shakes his head. "In my what?"

"Pancakes, Peanut. In your pancakes."

"Oh. Yeah." Logan blinks, then scoffs a laugh to himself. "Yeah, Mouth. I'd, ah– blueberries. I'd like blueberries."

[aldbooks]

So, my friend @hlizr50 posted this lovely art during Gwynriel week and it inspired an idea that's been rolling around in my head until I finally spit it out in Word tonight. So, don't mind any typos or grammar, I did exactly zero editing 😅 Enjoy!

793 words

A distinctly masculine yelp called the entire training ring’s attention to the far end where Gwyn was…. Hanging from the Shadowsinger’s back… side? It was hard to tell from this angle. All Cassian knew for sure was Gwyn’s coppery head was much higher than it should be, and her feet were wrapped somewhere around Az’s middle, rather than on the ground. His brother stumbled at the sudden shift in weight, his wings flaring wide.

As Cassian watched, Az managed to pry one of Gwyn’s legs from around his torso but she quickly scrambled around his body, repositioning herself until she had somehow draped her body across the back of his neck, one of his arms grasped between hers, the other between her thighs.

“Son of a-” Az’s words cut off with a growl as he again attempted to free himself from her hold. He could hear Gwyn snarl at him to yield, which of course Azriel refused- as he should. He wasn’t defeated yet.

But cauldron, did they look ridiculous. 

Nesta and Emerie appeared at this side, wearing amused looks as they watched their friend make a proper fool out of the famed Spymaster. “What do you even call that hold?” Emerie asked with a snort as Azriel’s wings bent and stretched, trying to stabilize him while he worked to get free.

“I think it’s called a Nelson?” Cassion shrugged trying not to laugh as Gwyn “accidentally” kicked Az’s wing, drawing another strangled yelp from him. “But I’ve never seen it done like that…’ 

He finally loosed a grin as an idea came to him. Focusing his mind, he called out to Rhys, hoping his brother was paying attention wherever he was in the city. A moment later, a smooth voice spoke in his mind “Yes, Cassian?”

“You gotta see this.”

Rhys gave an intrigued hum. “Is that so?” There was a brush at his mind and Cassian opened a small window for his brother to see through his eyes. 

Just then. Az managed to find a ticklish spot behind Gwyn’s knee, loosening her hold with a squeal. Before he could pull her off of him completely, however, she scrambled around again, somehow hooking one leg around his back, one over his shoulder, ankles locked together, and both hands wrapped behind his neck.

This time the shift of weight unbalanced him entirely, sending him to his knees… Gwyn still hanging from his neck.

Cassian couldn’t help a chuckle then as a matching one sounded in his mind. He felt a pause on Rhys’ end before he felt another presence in his mind. “Oh my,” Feyre giggled. “How did she get up there?”

“I don’t know, I heard a shout and turned around to find her hanging off him. Everytime he manages to get an arm free, she moves and traps him again,” Cassian laughed. “We might want to consider ear plugs for the poor priestesses, Az’s been cursing up a storm the last couple minutes.”

Az wedged a hand beneath the thigh wrapped over his shoulder- dangerously high- and Nesta whistled. “You usually have to pay to get that handsy, Shadowsinger. Watch it!”

The hand quickly disappeared with a frustrated growl, and Gwyn, the cheek, laughed merrily at his predicament. From the corner of his eye, Cassian caught sight of Mor and Amren perched on lounge chairs, watching the show. How and when they had gotten here, he wasn’t sure. But they were turning his training ring into theater and he should probably say something, but he was too entertained by the spectacle.

After a few more moments of struggling - each attempt at tickling Gwyn now resulted in her thrashing about and shrieking, battering Az’s poor wings even further, even as she clung to him like a magnet- until finally, Az’s wings drooped with a sigh. 

“Do you yield?” Gwyn asked cautiously, still holding tight. There was a mumble and then- “What was that? I couldn’t hear you?”

“Yes, I yield. Gods damn it.”

Immediately, Gwyn dropped to the ground, rolling numbly from underneath him and springing to her feet with a triumphant crow. Nesta and Emerie burst out laughing while the other priestesses rushed over to congratulate Gwyn on besting the Symaster. Mor, who apparently wanted more of a show, booed loudly and tossed popcorn in Az’s direction, which Cassian had no idea how she’d gotten.

“Is he- blushing?” Feyre asked.

Sure enough, Az had slunk off to the side of the ring, his cheeks pink as he gingerly rubbed his shoulder. His shadows, which had been dancing around him and Gwyn throughout the entire bout, not interfering, now twirled in the air behind him. If he didn’t know better, Cass would think they were laughing. “Yes, Darling, I think he is.”

[cripplecharacters]

oh yeah another question abt intellectual disability: what do people with moderate id speak like? i assume they wouldnt be perfectly articulate but i know making them talk like cavemen would be bad too. i do want it to be clear that they have language difficulties, but im not sure how to do that realistically. so what kinds of grammar errors are actually common? would it make sense to have them mix up words with similar pronunciation, or have difficulty discerning the differences in implications between words with similar meanings (like "pretty" vs "attractive")? do people with id ever 'imagine context' the way people(well, me) do when half-asleep where the brain mishears a statement as something completely unrelated? would spatial and situational awareness be impaired? also this is kind of a different question but if you can give advice on what to do with game mechanics for an id character in an rpg, that would be nice! i already have the stats figured out for every character and theres no stat that i think would be strongly affected by id but in terms of depicted fighting style and other mechanics maybe thered be some stuff informed by it (i cant do anything too complex though, im using rpg maker vx ace). idk! im spitballing here. main thing i need to know is how to write dialogue for a character with id ^_^

Hi! We have a post somewhat about this that you might find useful, I'll try to go over the other questions below!

Keep in mind my ID is mild (and on the milder side of that) so my answer will be all second-hand knowledge from talking to people with moderate ID in my SPED years.

A lot of it will depend on what condition causes they have. People with Williams syndrome have very “normal” verbal skills majority of the time and you can't really tell in my experience. On the other hand if they're autistic you can potentially guess from the tone of the voice e.g. they speak in a very loud and monotone way. People with Down syndrome are very likely to have a speech disorder, someone with cerebral palsy might slur their words, etc.

A lot of people with ID might be less talkative than your average person (there's definitely exceptions). So your character could use shorter sentences, simple sentences (in the grammar sense), prefer to use other forms of communication for things that don't require speech (e.g., nodding instead of saying “Yes, I agree”, or doing a thumbs up, etc.), or have to be prompted to actually answer/take part in the conversation.

I personally don't recall ever hearing the “mixing words with similar pronunciation” in someone's actual speech, maybe unless they learned the language from reading rather than hearing it? If that's the case, then ID could affect their speech more than if they didn't have it, otherwise I'd assume that the character might have brain damage or is maybe hard of hearing and simply mixes them up because they can't recognize/hear the difference between them.

Mixing words based on specific meaning makes much more sense in my opinion (probably because I do that myself lol). Synonyms or words that might make sense in one context but not the other are the worst. Your example here is great! When someone has ID they might take away the wrong meaning out of a word and use it incorrectly because of that. E.g., their parents used to take them camping to a forest with lots of bugs, they don't like bugs, they can later call something “foresty” to mean “with lots of bugs” even if it doesn't have much to do with an actual forest. This might make more sense for a character with more severe ID (or if they're just young) but using “attractive” when you'd normally say “pretty” makes sense for someone with moderate ID in my opinion.

Something that can also affect speech of someone with ID is word repetition. Not really in the echolalia sense (though it can be that too) but just using stock phrases that get repetitive over time. I try to edit it out from my posts but you can still kinda see it. For some people it will be ending most sentences with the same word, for someone else it will be starting two paragraphs with the same three words without realizing even though they're right next to each other or overusing “maybe” and “if” to start sentences.

As for the “imagining context” while mishearing something, I'm not sure if I know what you mean by it so I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I don't do it lol

Situational awareness is definitely impacted for all people with ID but to different degrees. I don't know if it's part of the diagnostic criteria but it might as well be. When the person's ID is mild it might look like someone who's just kinda unaware of what goes around them, maybe don't recognize that they're doing something that could end up badly. The more severe the intellectual disability the more obvious it is, the person might elope (wander off) and not be able to find their way back, not be able to use cooking utensils safely because they don't recognize the risks in real time (not really in the “not realizing that the knife is sharp” way if they have moderate ID, more like “not realizing that you need to be careful when putting things on hot oil or you can get burned”), assuming that people are automatically safe to be around, things like that.

Spatial awareness doesn't affect everyone, but one of the biggest comorbidities of ID is dyspraxia, which does affect it a lot. There are people with mild ID with severe dyspraxia, and severely ID people with no dyspraxia. It varies.

Unfortunately I have never played any RPGS and I'm not really familiar with the mechanics. Here's an old ask about intellectually disabled characters engaged in combat, hopefully it's useful?

If you want some real-life resources for hearing how intellectually disabled people talk, I really recommend this playlist. It's a bunch of interviews with people with Down syndrome and you can see that they're all very different from each other despite having the same disability.

I hope this helps! mod Sasza

[sgiandubh]

“has never ran”? “could have went”? Really? Why? Diplomatic corps’s dialect?

Dear Diplomatic Corps Anon,

Please find enclosed the following Note Verbale:

'No.001/2024

The Honorary Consulate of The Shire in Bucharest presents its ironic compliments to Diplomatic Corps Anon and, with reference to the comments and reservations being formulated about the wording of a certain recent post on the Consulate's official blog, has the honor to offer the following reply:

While the wording might not always be the most clear one, it is the Honorary Consulate's deep conviction the meaning is easily understandable, in the given context of this particular post: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/758380919814062080/business-talk?source=share

It is the Honorary Consulate's understanding that 'running a lemonade stand' is a widespread synonym of 'operating or managing a lemonade stand', either for summer pocket money or as part of a school bake sale. As such, it is often seen as an easy, playful way to introduce children to business and trade. It was the author's obvious intention to sarcastically underline the complete lack of expertise of the quoted individual in those fields.

Furthermore, with regard to the following quote, the Honorary Consulate of The Shire in Bucharest would like to point out the fact that the incriminated phrase does not seem to violate the basic rules of English grammar in use today:

While The Honorary Consulate of The Shire in Bucharest fully understands that it would have been preferable to use a more clear wording (e.g: ' He could have chosen the easy white label solution'), it would like to vigorously protest against the use of this type of spurious arguments (also known as 'nitpicking'), in order to discredit the rest of the ideas being expressed in the above mentioned post.

The Honorary Consulate of The Shire in Bucharest avails itself of this opportunity to renew to Diplomatic Corps Anon the assurance of its lowest consideration.

Bucharest, 11 August 2024

Copy to:

The Honorary Consulate's official blog - For Immediate Release'

[Later edit]: I have been reminded by @harriethattie of the very basic auxiliary verb + past participle rule. I never shied away from being corrected, and before you screech, remember I am not a native speaker, as so many in here have speculated over time - sources or not. Also, something did sound immediately wrong, but when the brain stops, it does for good. At 5 AM, local time - happens to the best of us, doesn't it?

I prefer honesty to ego. What about you, righteous Anon?

[cards-of-rose]

study tip!! how i write essays

going from a long, intensive classical education to my current history major, i've had to write a lot of papers. at this point, i can write a 5 page paper in a few hours, and just a couple weeks ago i wrote a 20 page paper in a single day. i graduated valedictorian with this method (current cGPA of 4.0!) so i thought i'd share how i write them! grab some coffee and settle in - it'll be a long post, but i promise it'll be worth it. :)

first, the topic. if you don't have an assigned topic, pick something that fascinates you, something that you could write pages and pages about. you will. if your topic is assigned, find something in it that you find fascinating. even if you find your topic completely boring, there's always something interesting to glean from it! once you find this, you'll gain motivation, and that's half the battle.

write down a basic outline. when i say basic, i mean barebones. just a vague, 3-point general idea of what you think you might write your paper about. this will guide you in your research! you don't need to worry about writing your full outline just yet.

sources. after you have a basic list of points, it's time to find sources! if they're already assigned, you can skip this step. most of the time they aren't, though. this is the most important part of your paper. you can go to google scholar to find really good academic journals and studies!

generally, the number of sources you have depends on the length of your paper! a good guide is that your amount of sources should number half the length of your paper. so if you have a 5 page paper, 2-3 is a good way to go. if you have a 20 page paper, you'll want around 10.

evidence. skim over your sources and categorize each one under the point you made earlier. this will mean you have a quick reference guide when you're writing, so you don't have to go through a big list of sources when you're looking for evidence! under each source, put a few bullet points talking about the info that you can use for your paper.

outline. this part may seem daunting. i promise, though, it's one of the easiest parts of the paper! you may feel tempted to skip it, but having an outline makes your paper sound better and makes it easier and quicker to write. use the sources and bullet point info you used earlier to fill out your outline. start broad and general, then add details as you do your research! your outline should be about half the length of your paper. don't worry about making it super scholarly - this is just for you, so make it as informal and easy to understand as you want! be stupid, throw in memes, whatever gets it written!

every outline should include an introduction, a body, and a conclusion. i can go over the structure of an outline in another post, but remember the 3 points you thought up earlier? these will form your entire outline, and eventually your essay!

finally, write! open a blank google doc and view it side by side with your outline. once you get started, it's a lot easier to finish than you'd think, especially if you took the time to outline! this is when you can make your dumb outline into something that would make the ancient philosophers proud. don't worry about perfection. just write it as you go. you can edit it later!

quotes/evidence. once you've finished your rough draft, it's time to add the evidence! some profs want quotes, others want you to paraphrase. either way, go through your paper and put in the evidence you researched earlier. don't worry about citations just yet - just put in the link in a comment on your rough draft. it won't be hard to fix it up later.

edit!! please, please don't finish your rough draft and be done with it. you can save so many points by going over it again instead of submitting it in a rushed 3am haze. fix spelling and grammar, add citations and a reference page, edit for clarity, anything you need to make it sound like the best paper you can write! if you're proud of it by the end, you know you've done something right.

congrats, you did it!! make sure you start your paper early and don't wait till the night before - your grade will thank you <3

[broodparasitism]

Everything I've Learned About Querying from Talking to Agents (And Traditionally Published Authors)

Disclaimer: I'm UK based, as was everyone I spoke to. I didn't include any country specific advice, just what I think is applicable regardless of where you live, put it might be useful to know this is from a UK lens.

As part of my course I was able to go to a lot of talks with literary agents (a mixture of literary, genre and nonfiction) and I picked up a lot of useful information - a lot of it not quite so bleak as I feared! - and thought it might be helpful to compile it for anyone looking to query agents in the future, so, here goes, under the readmore:

Querying

Remember that agents want to find and publish new authors. They're not at odds with/out to get aspiring authors. They want to work with us. This is someone you're working with, so don't pick an agent you won't get along with.

Manuscripts should be queried when they are as close to finished you are able to manage. There are a few agents that are open to incomplete manuscripts, yes, but many more that flat-out refuse unfinished work. Manuscripts generally go through about ~15 rounds of edits before landing an agent.

Send query letters in batches - around five or six at a time. There is no limit to how many agents you can contact, but you can't contact more than one agent from the same agency, so make sure you've selected the most suitable one from each.

In most cases you can't submit the same manuscript to the same agent twice - so having it be as finished as possible is all the more vital.

Some of them will take a long time to respond. Some never respond at all. If it's been three months of nothing, it's safe to assume that's a rejection.

One agent said she took on about two new authors a year, which likely isn't true for them all but is probably a reasonable average. For all of them, the amount of queries they get can be in the three digits a week. I can't emphasis enough just how many they get. I take a lot of authors to mean that means it's a 0.001% chance and despair, but that assumes each manuscript has an equal chance, and they don't. Correct spelling and grammar, writing in a genre that appeals to the agent, quality sample chapters and respecting the submission guidelines (more on this later) improve the odds by a significiant amount.

One agent said he rejected about half of his submissions from the first page due to spelling and grammar mistakes and cliches, for perspective.

You'll need to pitch your book. If your book cannot be pitched in three sentences, that's a sign it has too much going on and you'll need to do some pruning.

Please don't panic if you cannot come up with an accurate pitch for your book on the fly - you're not supposed to be able to do that. A pitch takes many edits and drafts just like a manuscript.

Send your first three chapters and a synopsis (this should be a page, or two pages double spaced. It should not include every single plot point though, again, if major things end up not there at all, question if they're necessary for the manuscript).

Three chapters is the standard - as in, if the agent web page doesn't specify how many, that's what to opt for. If they say anything else, for the love of God listen. If there was a single piece of advice that the agents emphasised above all else, it was to just follow each submission requirement to a T.

There needs to be a strong hook in these chapters. If your manuscript is a bit of a slow burn, that's fine, but you can cheat a bit with a 'prologue' that's actually a very hook-y scene from later on.

Read the agent's bio page throughly and make a note of what they like, who they represent, and what they're looking for, and highlight this in the query letter.

Your query letter has to say a little about you. It doesn't have to be really personal information (but say if you're under 40, because that's rare for authors and they like that), and keep it professional but not stiff, they say. If you have any writing credentials, such as awards won or creative writing degrees, include them, as with any real life experiences that pertains to the content of your book. But no one will be rejected on the basis of not having had an interesting enough life.

Apparently one of the biggest mistakes for debut authors tend to be too many filler scenes.

In terms of looking for comparative titles, think about where you want your book to 'sit'. Often literally - go into bookstores and visualise where on the displays you could see it. It's really helpful if you can identify a specific marketing niche. Though you want to choose comparisons that sell well, but going for really obvious choices looks lazy. A TV or film comparison is fine - as long as it genuinely can be compared.

Do not call yourself the next Donna Tartt. Or JK Rowling. They are sick of this.

Don't trust agents who request exclusive submission.

Or any with a fee. Agents take a percentage of your advance/royalties - you never pay them directly.

In terms of trends (crowd booing), there's been a boom in uplifting, optimistic fiction, but more recently dark fiction has been rising in popularity and looks to have its moment. Fantasy and Gothic are both huge right now. Publishers also love what's called upmarket/book club fiction - books that toe the line between genre and literary.

But publishers aren't clairvoyant and writing to trends is a futile effort, so don't let them shape what you want to write. Some writing advice I got that I loved was to not even THINK about marketability until draft three or four.

If any agent requests your full manuscript - this is crucial - email every other agent you're waiting to hear back from and let them know. This will take your manuscript from the slush pile to the top, and you are more likely to get more offers of representation.

The agent that flatters you the most isn't necessarily the best. Be sure to ask them what their plan for the book is, and what publishers they're planning to send it to - you want them to have a precise vision. It might be that their vision misses the mark on what kind of book you wanted to write, and if so, they aren't the right agent for you.

Research like hell! A good place to start is finding out who represents authors you love (the acknowledgements pages are really helpful here). if you can, getting access to The Writer's and Artist's Yearbook is very helpful, as is The Bookseller, the lattr for checking up on specific agents. (I was warned the website search engine is awful, so google "[name] the Bookseller" to see what they've sold. That said, only the huge deals get reported, so it's not indicative of everyone they take on.

I also want to add Juliet Mushen's article on what makes a good query. I owe a lot to it, and I feel like it's a useful template!

Once Agented

Agents send a manuscript to about 18-25 publishers, typically. Most books will end up having more than one publisher interested.

It can be hard to move genres after publishing a debut novel, especially for book two, not only because it means it takes longer for you to establish yourself, but the agent that may be perfect for dealing with manuscripts for book one might not have the skills for book two.

Ask the agency/publisher about their translation rights, their rights to the US market, and film and TV rights. Ask also what time of year the book is going to come out, if being published.

It's less the book agents are interested in than it is you as an author. You will be asked what you're going to write next, so have an answer. Just an answer - you don't need another manuscript ready to go. One author said she flat-out made up a book idea on the spot, and she got away with it - just have an answer. (This is also useful to put on the query letter.)

Caveat that this is, of course, not a foolproof guide to getting a book deal, nor is it in any way unconditional endorsement of how the industry works - I just thought it would be useful to know.

[callsignmercy]

The voicemail - Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.

Prompt: Jake calls you to tell you he still loves you after ten years.

Words: ~2.5k

Warning: slight mention of death but nothing serious.

Note: I’m sick and I feel like shit so I wrote a shitty piece. I don’t like this and probably will edit it later but anyway here it is. Please don’t copy of repost my work. English is not my first language so apologies for the easy vocabulary and bad grammar.

————————————————————————

The voicemail went like this: “Hi it’s me. Uh it’s uh- it’s Jake. Seresin. I don’t know why I’m calling really… I think I just wanted to hear your voice. It’s been so long since I’ve heard it… I’m sorry we broke up. Truth is, I should never have done it. I should have known that I would never stop loving you even after all these years. But you might have moved on since then, and if you’ve found someone else I’m happy for you really. Forget I ever called, it was a mistake. We’re going on a top secret and insanely difficult mission for Top Gun in a few hours and truth be told I’m terrified. I wish we could’ve had more time together but those few high school years were worth it because you were there with me. I should have never made that stupid decision of leaving you when I got into aviation and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me. Anyway I don’t have much time and I’ve been drinking a little so, forget I ever called. Another thing I shouldn’t have done. Anyway, bye.”

Jake Seresin, whom you haven’t talked to in about ten years after he broke up with you when he joined the navy just called you to tell you he shouldn’t have left you? What the hell is happening?

You were trying to understand what came through his mind to gather up the courage to call and confess to you after so many years, and just hours before probably dying.

No but how dare he? Seriously! You were fuming. Admitting his love for you after a decade like it was nothing while casually telling you he might never come back?

But who were you kidding really? Of course you loved him back, you never stopped thinking about him actually. Even after ten years he was still in the back of your mind. But anyhow, how dare he break your heart like that? You contemplated calling him back but decided against it. You didn’t want to ruin his mission which he said could potentially be fatal. Oh God. You couldn’t dare think about the love of your life potentially dying.

Suddenly you jumped on your feet, packed a few clothes and took your car keys and drove away. After all Miramar was only two hours away…

When you woke up in the late morning and listened to his voicemail you knew he had already left as he had called the night before but you decided to go anyway. Wait for him. Wherever.

You arrived at Miramar in the late afternoon and stopped at a navy bar to get something to drink.

“Hi, what can I get you hun?” The bartender said. “A coke please.” You replied. “I’m Penny by the way. Did you come for the holidays?” “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N. Actually it’s a spontaneous and maybe incredibly stupid decision that I took about two hours ago for someone that will probably never show up here.”

Penny seemed confused. “What do you mean?” She asked. “An old boyfriend of mine, like ten years old boyfriend called yesterday to tell me he regrets breaking up with me and also casually said that he was going on a mission that he could probably never come back from. He’s a pilot for the navy by the way. And so I don't know why I decided to come here to see him even though I know they’ve already left.” “Yes they left this morning.” She replied and your head shot up to look at her. She had a sad smile on her face. “I rekindled with an old boyfriend of mine too that flies for Top Gun and so he told me he might not come back. They left this morning.” She explains.

“And how do you manage something like that? What do you do?” You ask. “The best thing is hope. You know Top Gun pilots are the best in the world, you just have to trust that they’ll succeed and come back to you.” “And what if he doesn’t? What if he never knows that I came here for him, that I still love him?” Tears were slowly making their way up but you fought them, not wanting to appear vulnerable in front of a total stranger. “Who is it you’re waiting for?” “Jake Seresin. You know him?” She smiles. “Yeah I know him, he’s cocky but he’s a nice guy and I’m sure he’ll come back, especially if he didn’t get an answer back from you, I swear he’ll come back to get it.” You laugh at her answer. “Do you know how long they’ll be gone?” “No idea, Pete didn’t tell me. But I’m sure they’ll come here as soon as they come back stateside.” “Can you recommend a place to stay while waiting for them?” “You’re going to stay in Miramar?”

“Well I can’t possibly go back home and come back here every single day.” “You’re right. Well, there’s a motel not far from here if you want, or if you’d like you could help me here a few hours a day and in exchange you could sleep on my couch. Your pick.” “Well, It would sure occupy my days to work a little, rather than hoping and stressing all day.” “Then it’s settled, you’ll start tomorrow.” She smiles and you smile back.

“So tell me about you and Hangman.” Penny asks the next day as you were working together. “Hangman?” You replied. “Jake. Hangman is his callsign, they get one when they become pilots.” “Why Hangman?” “I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him I guess.” “Sure. Well Jake and I used to date in high school, we met when we were both freshman and dated until after we graduated but he broke up with me when he signed up for the navy.” “Why?” “He said he was leaving for a long time, that he didn’t think a long distance relationship would work. I cried for days.” “I can understand. Pete and I were just hooking up from time to time back then but when he came back a couple of weeks ago I felt things I hadn’t felt in a long time. It took a while for me to let him back in but now we’re happy and I can’t wait for him to come back.” “ I’m genuinely happy for you Penny.” “Don’t worry, Jake will be really happy to see you too I’m sure.” “I can only hope so.”

After a few days, Penny decided that she wanted to go on a little holiday with her daughter Amelia and left you in charge of the bar. The night wasn’t really busy so you handled things well, serving up patrons and cleaning up tables, hoping yet again to see a certain man come through the doors of the bar.

“So you’re telling me that you left your high school sweetheart a voicemail saying that you still love her and you should never have broken up with her and in the same sentence telling her she can forget about you ‘cause you’ll certainly die?” “Yes Phoenix, for the hundredth time, I did it and I don’t know why I did it.” That voice sounded rather familiar to you and you froze on the spot, not believing your ears. “Well Hangman, let me tell you yet again how stupid you are.” “Thank you Phoenix I think I’ve heard it enough. I’ll probably never see her again anyway so you can stop talking about it now.” Jake sighs and they all head for the pool table. You watch as Jake walks, talking with the woman named Phoenix, still not believing that it was really him in front of you after so many years.

“I’ll get the first round.” Phoenix says. “Hi, what can I get you?” You ask her. “I’ll get seven beers please. Are you new? I’ve never seen you here before.” “Yeah, I started working here a few days ago. I’m Y/N by the way.” “Natasha, pleasure to meet you Y/N.” You smiled and handed her the beer and started a tab for her.

“Well Jake, if you want to forget all about your stupidity and the high school sweetheart you’ll never see again, there’s a new cute bartender, I’m sure your southern charms will work wonders on her.” “No thanks Phoenix. I’m still going to wait for an answer from Y/N and if she doesn’t I’m going to call her while being drunk again and demand that she answer me.” He replies ironically. Phoenix tilted her head when she heard you name come out of Jake’s mouth. “Well the girl at the bar said her name was Y/N so you might want to check if that’s your Y/N first.” Jake frowned and looked at the bar only to see you, serving drinks to the men on the other side of the bar. His face dropped and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of you after so many years, looking more beautiful than ever.

Phoenix bit her lip in excitement seeing Jake’s face and understanding what it meant. “Oh I love seeing love happen.” She whispers to her wizzo next to her.

Jake didn’t know how to react to seeing you after so long. He might have frozen for a few minutes before Rooster gave him a slight push to force him to go to the bar and talk to you.

He gave the pool stick to Rooster before walking awkwardly toward you. He gets to the bar as you turn around and you stop right then and there.

“You came.” Jake said matter-of-factly. You shrug. “You called.” You replied.

“What are you doing working here? Where’s Penny?” He asks, still not looking away from your eyes. “It’s a long story. How did you avoid death?” You ask. “It’s a long story.” He replies.

“Did you really come here for me?” He asked, hopeful. “I’m waiting for an actual explanation. For why you called me after ten long years to tell me you should never have broken up with me and why you scared the shit out of me by telling me you were probably going to die.” “I’m sorry I did. I just realised that it was the right thing to do, to tell you how I felt and hopefully you’ll feel the same.” “After ten years?” “Yeah well, I never stopped loving you, never stopped thinking about you, never stopped hoping we’ll meet again and nothing happened so I decided to take the matter into my own hands and call you to tell you everything.”

You looked at Jake for a few seconds before being called up at the other end of the bar to serve some people. You think about what Jake just said to you while doing your job. After a few minutes you wipe the bartop and sigh before turning back toward Jake, still a hopeful look on his face looking at you.

“Look I think about you all the time, I’ve got a photo of us constantly in my flight suit and in my cockpit. I constantly think of you when I’m up there. I don’t want to leave this world without knowing what you really feel. That's what keeps me from dying and helps me come back every time. I’ve never stopped loving you and if you want to take me back I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you.” “I’ve waited ten years for you to come back, Jake. I’m not going to let you go again.” You say with tears in your eyes. “God I love you so much baby. I’ll do this right I promise. I’ll take you on dates and tell you how much I love you for the rest of our lives and I’ll marry you baby. Right here and there.” You chuckled. “Just shut up and kiss me Seresin.” He smiles from ear to ear and leans in to kiss you tenderly.

The voicemail went like this: “Hi baby. Today is the day and I can’t wait to marry you. I’m so thankful you came back into my life and I’m so thankful you put up with my shit for so long. I love you so much and I’m sure there’s still so many things waiting for us. I love you forever baby.”

You smiled while listening to your fiance/soon-to-be-husband’s voicemail.

Jake had made a habit to leave you voicemails for key moments in your life for you to save and still hear his voice whenever he left for a mission.

“Thanks for our first date. I really had fun with you tonight. Thank you for agreeing to take me back, thank you for still loving me even though I was a total dick with you ten years ago. I can’t wait for all the things we’ll do together.”

“Hi babe. Today you agreed to be my girlfriend again after all these years and I thank God everyday for you. I swear I never thought I’d see you again and even less that you’ll agree to take me back. Anyway, I love you. That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Today we moved into our first house together. Our very own home. Everywhere you are is home for me anyway but being able to wake up next to you every morning will be heaven on earth for me. I can’t wait to decorate it all with you. I love you baby.”

“Jake why are you calling me? Just leave it baby I’m leaving you a voicemail. Oh it’s already on, okay. Hi baby. I’m whispering because you’re in the other room and I don’t want to spoil the surprise for you. I’m about to ask you to marry me. After all, we've been together a while. Plus four years if you add our high school years together. Anyway, I love you so much I hope you’ll say yes. And then we’ll have a beach front wedding like you’ve always dreamed of. I love you so much I could marry you with paper rings but for you I gave it all and I hope you’ll like the diamond better. I can’t wait to put it on your finger. I love you baby.”

You were about to marry the love of your life. In about an hour you were going to call him your husband. And the truth is, you couldn’t wait. But you had one more thing to do before saying yes.

“Hi Jake. For the first time I’ll be the one leaving you a voicemail. You leave me voicemails for me to listen to whenever you’re away from me and I thought I should do it too because a photo of us in your cockpit doesn’t really do the job does it? Well here I am. And I’ve got something to tell you. Soon, I won’t be the only one you’re going to call baby. I checked this morning and I’m pregnant, Jake. You’re going to be a dad. I hope it’ll make you happy. I love you Jake. Forever. I can’t wait to say yes and spend my life with you baby.”

[archivalofsins]

Mikoto's Advertising Secrets

So, today Star and I are going to talk about Double. Yep, it’s another team up to tackle one of the most difficult characters in Milgram. Today we’ll be discussing the Japanese and English lyrics of Double provided by the staff. Along with some fun facts and observations we’ve made from them. 

Preface

This will be going over the use of (MeMe) in the official French and English translations of Double along with the use of and etymology of the term “Newborn”. Due to the focus on these phrases since the release of Double and how the fandom has treated official translations in the past… Star and I believed it only fair to give the same scrutiny given to past translations to Double. It cannot only be a mistranslation when it’s inconvenient to how one personally views the character then absolutely correct and unquestionable when the translation (regardless of how many creative liberties it takes) supports what one personally wants to believe. 

If anyone has problems with having these topics scrutinized fully and objectively then this is not the post for them. If anyone is interested in finding out more about linguistics both English and Japanese, MeMe and Double parallels, and a lot of things about Mikoto Kayano then this post might be for you. The way I word things has always been incredibly direct and that won’t be changing over the course of this post.

This post wouldn't be possible without the discussions and help I received from not only @apatchworkstar but @tsuwmya and @doctorbunny.

With all that out of the way- Are you ready? 

Okay, well let’s jump into it!

This may have spelling errors and may be edited at a later date to add more context. Just like Mikoto's song lol~

Hi, this is Star here- Starting off this post! Gunsli and I were discussing some of the information floating around about Mikoto- them with more people than me. I was mostly bitching discussing how I found it interesting that people were taking a step away from their habit of brutally eviscerating the official translations of songs to hyper focus on the wording of Double. 

Now, Gunsli and myself have been very open about how we both believe the original lyrics and the translations both help add necessary context to all of the songs and that neither is less than the other. However, it is a bit… Irksome for people to just pick and choose what they consider a valid conversion of information. Especially since translating is already something that can be hard to carry nuance over. It also hasn’t escaped my notice what the official English translation is being used to support. Which is also aggravating, with everything else into consideration.

So, I took out my copy of Double and did what fans have been doing for most of trial two- looking at the Japanese lyrics within the cd pamphlet and comparing them to the translation. And boy was that interesting!

Don’t worry~

Mikoto is an honest man, guys~ Come on, would a guy with such tiredness in his eyes lie to us~?

…So, his song's translation has to be the pinnacle of accuracy; all with little to no artistic liberties taken, right? Well- no. 

Literally, there wouldn’t be any point of making this as a post if it was.

(Gunsli: Don’t mind the underlined parts in the english lyrics for now. That comes in later.)

Firstly,

“I’m Double (MeMe)”

“Double” is the only line actually said in this statement. “(MeMe)” is never said within the lyrics of Double. However, given that it is in parentheses (something that is meant to add additional context to a statement), “(MeMe)” technically does not have to be said within the song in order to be put into the lyrics in this way. This isn’t a case of the english lyrics being inaccurate per se, but a case of the staff using english language and grammar in order to add context to what is being said. Something that’s not only done with the English translation, but the French one too.

So this is additional context; a rare treat for fans in the west! Now, when Gunsli and I were discussing Mikoto’s second trial CD cover-

Gunsli speculated that they added in (MeMe) to hammer in that there were, in fact, only two of them. Especially given how prevalent trikoto was/is as a theory. However, neither of us thought the staff would go so far as to just present this as something that had been said when it never was just to drive in the point further. 

In every other instance during trial two when the prisoners have referenced their previous trial songs, it’s been verbally- i.e. within the lyrics themselves. Anyone can hear it, and the lines are noted in their cd pamphlets + the inside of the cd case, even if they aren’t translated as literally the lines that are said to be there are there.

Mikoto is the only one who’s official translated lyrics reference his first trial song without him verbally referencing it. 

Making this a literal instance of, “He did not fucking say that.” Musical edition~ 

I guess you could say that Mikoto is the creme de la creme- or, to phrase it better an outlier even among other outliers. Which I find amusing as hell, considering how Mikoto is being treated in Milgram currently. Because, despite the fact that he does not verbally reference his previous song in any way throughout his trial two song, the staff still chose to frame it as though Mikoto had within these translations and visuals. Like how are you gonna call yourself an honest man, then be a bigger liar than Kazui Mukuhara! At least the text that comes up in Cat is actually sung by him!

But this is something that adeptly draws attention to Mikoto’s previously stated skills and hobbies-

Q.04 Are you picky when it comes to fashion?

Mikoto: Of course I am. Nobody would want to ask for anything from an unfashionable designer, right?

Q.07 What are your hobbies?

Mikoto: shopping / darts / photography / cycling

Q.08 What’s the most rewarding part of your current job?

Mikoto: I mean, it’s the top advertising agency in the industry? Anyone would be proud to be a part of it. I put a lot of work in just to get here, too.

Design, photography, and advertising. All things that require people to know, not only how to conduct and present themselves, but how to present others and concepts to people in a way that will be favorable and hopefully increase revenue and sales. 

So, why wouldn’t Mikoto pull out all the stops to present himself in a way that would get him a more favorable response after the train wreck that was his first trial? 

To be fair, when we were first discussing it, I didn’t really understand how tacking on (MeMe) after Double would make Mikoto look any better. Then Gunsli stated that outside of the meta viewpoint, we’d tackled already (which I had to bring to her attention)- That there was a second thing that made this translation decision interesting. 

The fact that it served to connect Mikoto back to the song at all. As though Mikoto is trying to haphazardly put his name or presence on someone else’s work. Gunsli put it best,

“It’s a great visual example of Mikoto tacking himself onto John’s pain. Connecting himself to his suffering in order to justify his actions and avoid taking accountability. Really homing in on one of the core questions Milgram as a facility and project has continued to pose to those that participate in it- Is one’s anger justifiable when they are getting angry at something that did not happen to them. Or is it simply a case of know-it-alls not being able to mind their own business? Or in the words of Mikoto from MeMe, “This isn’t too much is it?”. At what point does defending another person become too much? Can it really be considered protecting yourself if the self you’re protecting is their own person in their own right? Or is this just a new layer of self-justification that Mikoto has created in order to downplay how much agency he had over the situation. “I’m probably not to blame, it’s probably nothing. I’m probably just having a bad dream, I need to wake up soon.”.”

“All I did was dream, and that’s what you found GUILTY?”

(Gunsli here- This line isn’t even the only one they do this with when it comes to the translations. They also do it again with the word us at the start of the Double. “Just the two of us, relieved, aren’t you? I’ll protect you (us).” Once again using parentheses to give further context or emphasize unstated things.)

Now, I’m gonna leave the second half of this to Gunsli-

Secondly,

"The “newborn” other you."

Gunsli here and-

Man, I really didn’t think we’d be taking the metaphorical as literal. Especially after all the fuss around the visuals of I Love You but- I guess things are only metaphorical or literal based on how convenient it is for things to be that in the moment. If we took every instance that the word baby is used in any song as literally as newborn is being taken here music would be rather complicated to say the least. 

Yet, I guess since this is a Japanese phrase it’s a bit more specific than that. That this phrase is only applicable when discussing newly born beings and nothing else. Well, not exactly. Regardless of how specific a language is there are still instances where words and phrases will have different meanings based on the context they are said in. A good deal of people like to poke fun at English for being a mutt language and incredibly indirect, but every language has room for miscommunications or misunderstandings to occur. 

Because every language is the sum of a culture's collective history. All languages are always building off of themselves and evolving and certain terms that meant one thing to the last generation can mean an entirely different thing to the next. This is true in the instance of not only the Japanese phrasing of this line but the English one as well. 

So, let’s start with the English one. 

“Me, the newborn other you, I’ll take it all on.”

Firstly, me in this instance is ore in Japanese. In the context of Milgram we know ore is used when John is referring to themselves. At least this is the pattern that has been presented. However, it is not always the case. Ore and boku can be used to refer to each of them respectively and collectively. However, for the sake of this example, let’s say it refers to John.

Me (John), the newborn-

Okay, we’ve gotten to the main offender in this sentence. Newborn. In English newborn is no longer contextually used to refer to a baby/infant or someone who was just born. Also, it never only referred to that to begin with and has not been colloquially used in this way for some time unless one is referring to someone they know very little about having a child. 

For example,

“Where’s Janice from accounting? I haven’t seen her in a good while.” “Oh, you didn’t hear? She had a newborn. So, she’s on maternity leave.”

Even then this is still rather formal and outdated. An interaction like this is more likely to go. 

“Where’s Janice from accounting? I haven’t seen her around in a while.” “Oh, you haven’t heard she just had a baby. She’s on maternity leave.”

Alright but they’re translating from Japanese to English and using baby or infant in the context of the sentence presented would be odd. Yeah, that’s right, it would be odd. That’s why in the beginning, I found it strange to even look into this line in this context as though it could in some way even tangentially be related to birth or children. 

If it would be odd to add the word baby in this context, chances are that this probably has nothing to do with them or birth in the conventional organic sense of the word. 

But born is in the word. 

Okay, let’s do what we did with Neoplasm. Because, clearly the internet only taught some people one meaning of these words. 

So, bear witness to this real quick-

Bear: To support or hold up.

Gif made by Star

Double: ““No, I need to do more…”, say what? You’re gonna break. Me, the newborn other you, I’ll take it all on.” 

This is rather self-explanatory. To say that one will take it all on is to state their intentions to take on the burdens, issues, or stressors of another person or of a specific event. For example to take blame and face punishment for a crime one did not commit in order to protect another.  Mikoto is also shown in Double using the bat for support.

Bear Down: Proceed forcefully toward.

Gif made by Star

While making the gifs Star pointed out that the word next to the three arrows pointing at the assailant here is "Savior" in sloppy English. This is emphasized by having "Save you" appear next to the figure as they continue to walk forward.  Showing that (whichever one of them this is) believes themselves to be their savior and that what we see them doing here isn't an attack or them hunting the other down but them going to save the other.  Adding more meaning behind these lines, "Cling to me, hoist me up as your “savior”, stand up and sing out your gratitude, that’d be good." - "Cling to me, hoist me up as your “savior”, stand up and sing out your gratitude, so why?"

Alright, all of that is very interesting Gunsli. However, bear is not the word that we’re here to discuss today. The word is “Newborn”. What possible bearing could this word have on that? That’s a good question. It just so happens that one of the root words of “Newborn” comes from bear. 

Since the word comes from both New and Born. 

New (Old English Niwian, Neowian)

Fourth Definition: Bring forth. 

MeMe

“Why?” 

““I” will save “me”.” 

“Switch, shake up that brain.”

“Why am I here?  It must be a mistake right? Take a good look at me until you find me.”

Double 

“I’ve got you, leave it to me!”

““He’s a liar”, you said, and made me out to be a scoundrel, why?”

“Hey, I just wanted to save you, so why did it come to this? Cling to me, hoist me up as your “savior”, stand up and sing out your gratitude, so why. I don’t remember a thing, it couldn’t be helped, I’m DOUBLE (MeMe). I was having such a hard time, I was trying so hard.”

This is not self-explanatory. So, I’m going to take the time to explain what was going on in my mind when I decided to highlight these lyrics. I was interpreting bring forth in the context of switching. Mikoto is shown throughout MeMe to be looking for himself. Throughout the lyrics and the visuals. This is something reiterated through Double in a more chilling way. As it starts with what seems to be John being forced to the forefront due to Mikoto becoming too stressed. Something we see occur in Mikoto’s first and second voice dramas. 

John even making it clear from the beginning that he’s not out because he wants to be yelling,

“AaaAAAGH! Fuck… Fuck… STOP PISSING ME OFF!” While audibly stomping around and possibly messing up his hair the same way we see him do in Double. Basically, throwing a tantrum.

Couple this with his first cover song expressly stating that feeling ashamed which can cause stress and anxiety will open a role for an idiot to play (something we’ll go into after this) gives us a good understanding of what occurred in response to Mikoto's verdict. 

Something that if we didn’t catch onto John was more than happy to bluntly state to us in their second voice drama.

Neoplasm Voice Drama

“I (boku) might be trying to disappear.”

“Evidently, the time I (ore) have been fronting has been getting longer, so this “me” has been able to stabilize. Isn’t that the reason we can talk properly?”

The mental stress caused to Mikoto due to his previous verdict has led to him not being able to properly cope with the circumstances and drawing inward more as a result. Now fronting less and less as John (the one portrayed as being more used to stressful circumstances and better at holding things down) takes the forefront. 

MeMe

 “Hurting it, holding it down, it doesn’t change anything, does it?”

Double

““No, I need to do more…”, say what? You’re gonna break.”

Neoplasm Voice Drama

“Yeah. I… probably come out to ease the stress Boku experiences. The fact that I come out for longer just means that Boku is constantly under extreme stress.”

"The fact that you judged against forgiving Boku is causing a lot of stress.”

Depending on which of them has memories of the crime this could be a good thing. 

"That’s why he’s entrusting me with his heart."

This leads well into the next definition-

Ninth Definition: Substitute.

Double: “Leave it to me.”- “I’ll take it all on.”-”Relieved, aren’t you?”-“I’ll protect you (us).”

These are again things I find self-explanatory, but I’ll explain for the sake of clarity. These are all things one says when taking on another’s responsibilities or substituting for them. Usually someone is given a substitute when they cannot fulfill their duties for one reason or another. How John describes the current circumstances in Neoplasm makes it sound as though he is substituting for Mikoto because as he said in his second cd trailer,

“I can’t take it anymore…”

Monopoisoner: “As for who is acting strangely, look here, it’s already been decided that I’m the normal one, OK?”- “Do you have a preference for plundering? Because what’s being stolen away right now is your life. “How’s this? How’s this? What do you think?” Even though the outcome was understood from the start… The foolish you is already done for “nothing to see here, move on, pay no heed”.”- ““Please, bring to an end this world today” but that hole opens up a role for me to play. “Please, feel ashamed of this self from today” but that hole opens up a role for an idiot to play.”

gif made by @apatchworkstar

“You’re overdoing it, you’re already broken. But if you persist, I guess it’s my job to keep things on an even keel. Me, the other you, I’ll take it all on.”

In my opinion the Milgram staff could not make it clearer who the actual killer is at this point outside of the third trial just blatantly telling us if Mikoto gets as cocky as Mu did in response to his Innocent verdict. (Remember those underlined parts from the beginning of this post? Yeah, that comes in now.)

Literally each time he says the other you in this song Me comes before it.  Plus like Star established earlier the staff literally choose to shove (MeMe) in here when again it is not said to further highlight this more subtle aspect to oversea viewers. 

They basically made it so if you line up every time this phrase is said you just get-

“Me, the newborn other you, I’ll take it all on.”

“Me, the other you, I’ll take it all on.”

The title of the first trial song and they only put this phrase in twice within the lyrics to give this effect. Like this isn’t even a stretch at this point. They’ve gone above and beyond to highlight that Mikoto did that shit but we’re focusing on “newborn” right now. Moment of appreciation for the best translated lyrics of trial two. Like honestly the amount of information they had to shove directly into this man's lyrics due to his rather disjointed mv (that they still managed to get a lot of information in as well by the way) and still managed to get in is impressive. 

It’s actually jaw dropping when one takes the time to look into it.  

So, now that we have a bit of the history of the word “Newborn” how does it apply to this sentence,

“Me, the newborn other you, I’ll take it all on.”

Well given the etymology of Newborn we’ve learned a few things. One of them being that newborn is not only used to refer to recently born things but newly discovered concepts. Yet to reduce my own point a great deal we only need one source and one source only Merriam-Webster. Well, that and an understanding of English grammar.

Are you getting it yet? Well, if not here’s an English refresher in a form most Milgram fans should be used to music-

Now, I'm assuming you’ve watched both of those great videos. So, how is “newborn” being used here exactly?

“Me, the newborn other you, I’ll take it all on.”

That’s right baby, that word is being used in its adjective form not its noun form. Newborn is being used to describe the Me in this sentence the newborn other you. That is what the pronoun me is being described as in this sentence. So, what does that mean folks? Well, it means that Me in this context is not a newborn individual but instead a recently born or born anew construct or in this case self. Definitively showcasing that the newborn being referred to here cannot and never could in this sentence be defined as a newborn individual. At least that would not be the only meaning in its adjective state. 

There’s a difference between referring to a newborn and describing someone as a newborn. Be it oneself or another person. I know this is very confusing. I’m sorry and it doesn’t get any easier going into the Japanese. Something that even I am going to need help with and luckily can get help with. 

That’s later though all one needs to know for now is yes, the adjective state of the word may be used to refer to things that are not infants or newly born. Think of it like the word discovered. You know in the sense that Christopher Columbus “discovered” America. The word is kind of like that. Yeah, that’s the type of shit we’re getting into later. Yet, for now let’s keep things simple. 

A better way to explain this is by showing the synonyms and example sentences for the adjective state of this word,

Know who the adjective form of newborn perfectly describes out of the two? Could it be the tired, bags under the eyes, lethargic John or Mikoto Hypnos’ favorite human?

Man, is it “I’ve slept for twelve restful hours” Mikoto or John the one displayed as being soooo tired he passes out on public transport. Literally one of the most dangerous things a person can do.

I wonder who it could be…

If only we had a clue or a hint? (Or a bed for John.)

Ah well too bad. There’s nothing like that… I guess we’ll never solve this conundrum. It’s not as though newborn can be used to describe someone who has been reinvigorated or has come across a new sense of purpose or direction. It’d be incredibly awkward if that were the case. Because even ignoring everything else that would be a very nice and subtle way, still open enough to be interpreted a myriad of ways, for this series to highlight even further that Mikoto did that shit without blatantly saying he did. 

Luckily that English word only refers to organisms that have just been born and nothing else and no one will find any sources stating otherwise ever. So, it’s best to not look and we should all just do what Mikoto- I mean John said,

“Come to know me as an honest man, eat your words, gulp them down.”

Okay, but what about the Japanese lyrics?

“産声を上げたもうひとりの俺が、全部背負うから”/ Ubugoe wo ageta mou hitori no ore ga, zenbu seou kara.

One rough interpretation of the phrase in english could be,

“Born again, I (ore) alone will take responsibility for everything.”

So, why use newborn instead of born again?

As we discussed before, no language is that easy to grasp. There are multiple ways for various translators to interpret this phrase. Not all of them will give the same exact perspective on a phrase and their translations are prone to be influenced by not only their own personal experiences but their relationship with the work being translated. For example I had DoctorBunny help me out when it came to getting a grasp of the Japanese in this instance. 

During the process he said this,

“Trust me this is a very newborn invoking line. It's a saying basically used synonymously with being born. A favourite of foetus musician Mao Sasagawa.”

However, the example he gave was musical. This isn’t problematic or anything but it’s kind of easy to form a rebuttal against it. Something I’ll illustrate now- while answering that question I posed earlier with this song.

Born again in the west has a very religious connotation and even though the word savior is used within Double the staff probably didn’t want to tie Mikoto’s character that heavily to religion. Because as Mikoto has stated repeatedly he views himself as his on “Savior” and-

Q.19 Do you believe god exists?

Mikoto: I don’t believe, no. I don’t feel so strongly that I’m gonna deny the possibility but- Like, what do I gain from believing?

Taking into consideration how synonymous with religion the term born again is and Mikoto’s characterization thus far, would it really be contextually appropriate for them to translate it in that way for a western audience?

Definitely not. 

Especially considering the timing of his second song's release. Ya know- Being right after the most religiously involved character in the franchise. Those are the type of things a staff has to take into consideration when translating information into other languages for vastly different cultures. Again, the consideration and care put into the translation of Double in particular, is apparent in every line, every word said or not that they added in order to make sure regardless of the language one spoke everyone was getting not only a unique but as accurate as possible experience. 

Personally, I believe that the effort put in in this instance should not only be respected but lauded. For now though let’s give the Japanese lyrics some much due attention. Because they are just as good. 

Believe it or not that idiomatic expression is what led to this entire post. When I saw this I couldn’t help but think of a phrase in English that is the exact opposite of the one highlighted. 

“This will never see the light of day.”

To see the light of day is a common phrase that on top of being another synonym for being born means,  To come to existence or be made known.

It’s a rather colloquial way of describing something becoming known or one's desire to let something be known. Like in the example I previously provided. This is what caused the idiomatic definition to catch my interest. 

So, what is an idiomatic expression, well it’s a colloquialism basically. 

Idiomatic means to use, denote, or contain expressions that would be natural to native speakers. Meaning that to first see the light of day is a common way of using this expression to native-speakers. 

Yet, the technical use of the word is still related to the first cry or children. 

As a native English speaker when I say, 

“Things I hope never see the light of day again.”  “Man, I hope someone sheds light on your actions one day.” 

I and other native English speakers know I am not hoping for someone to get a light and shine it on that person or their actions but instead I want what they’ve done to either be known or ignored. This song is a perfect example of the concept.

Now, what made this way of viewing the information even more interesting is how Mikoto’s second trial mv plays with light in general. Double does this through its day and night cycles. Unlike MeMe that takes place during the night only and displays Mikoto sleeping through the day in Double, we see John up during the day and taking a backseat at night.

As Mikoto is shown to literally be committing these attacks at night again through the dark lighting on his side of the train. The visuals go out of the way to show his side of the train remaining unlit while John’s has light during the very first attack.

Double quite literally doubles down on playing around with lighting as a visual storytelling method. Perfectly illustrating to us that there’s something Mikoto did that he never wants to let see the light of day. Yet, it does see the light of as you can see from above. What was once happening in the dark comes closer and closer to light until the two are basically overlapping. 

As though looking in a mirror

Light becomes dark then Dark becomes light and eventually inevitably the two overlap-

As we see them face each other at the climax. One facing the reality of what they’ve done while the other isn’t even capable of facing themselves fully let alone their role in this.

“I’m probably not to blame, it’s probably nothing. I’m probably just having a bad dream, I need to wake up soon. Why am I here?  It must be a mistake right? Take a good look at me. Until you find me- Why, hey why, I’m nowhere to be found.” - ““He’s a liar”, you said, and made me out to be a scoundrel, why? All I did was dream, so you find me INNOCENT, it’s that simple right? Come to know me as an honest man, eat your words, gulp them down.”

Then there’s these meanings for the phrase as well (which should seem pretty familiar after all this)

2. To be burdened with; to take responsibility for.

So, remember Bear? If not, here are some of the meanings for it applicable with this definition here. 

Bear: To carry. To endure without resistance. To support, hold up. Carry a burden.

3. To have (something) in the background; to be in front of something.

Bear: Bring; bring forth.

With this we’ve gone full circle. Yet, that’s not the only interesting thing about this meaning. Applying the third meaning to Mikoto’s characters specifically could make this sentence a very artistic way of describing fronting. As we discussed before with Bear. (Can't believe I've got to quote myself from earlier in this post right now.)

“I was interpreting bring forth in the context of switching. Mikoto is shown throughout MeMe to be looking for himself. Throughout the lyrics and the visuals. This is something reiterated through Double in a more chilling way. As it starts with what seems to be John being forced to the forefront due to Mikoto becoming too stressed. Something we see occur in Mikoto’s first and second voice dramas.” 

That’s it we’ve done it that’s everything that’s a full fucking language loop. So, hopefully from this we’ve all learned a bit more about not only Mikoto but language in general. My hope with this is that it gives people a newfound appreciation for not only linguistics but the tremendous effort the Milgram staff have put in over the course of trial two. Now, with all that out of the way. I can finally say (in my opinion)- 

This case is closed.

Also, John in Double be like-

second gif edited by Star

Well, that's all if you made it through all of this congrats. Hopefully you've learned some new interesting things.

[pillarofsnow]

Meanwhile, in another universe……

Your adrenaline ran high that you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. You adjusted your hood and backpack many times as you ran. You panted heavily and you could feel the light layer of sweat starting to build on your skin. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as the destination finally came into view and you were able to slow down a bit. You quickly checked the clock on the wall.

Time wasn’t on your side and you needed to leave now.

You quickly entered the train terminal and headed for the ticket booth.

“I need one, one way ticket to Gotham as soon as possible. Please.” you said as quick as possible trying to hide your desperation. The woman at the ticket booth looked confused as she quickly observed your figure.

“Aren’t you a little young to be riding the train? Nonetheless, be going to Gotham and at this hour?” She asked baffled that a young teen was standing in front of her at this time at night. You let out an annoyed huff as you quickly showed her a fake ID.

“I would like my ticket. Now.” you said annoyed as you bit your tongue from making any sarcastic remark. A thought bubbles in the back of your mind.

He could come home any second.

The ticket booth lady’s attitude then changed and she rolled her eyes.

“That’ll be $150” she said matching your energy. You quickly handed her the cash and grabbed your ticket.

“And kid? You better run” She adds. You glanced at her confused as an automated announcement rang throughout the station

“Train from Nueva York to Gotham is now boarding”

Your eyes widened and silently cursed as you took a brief glance at your ticket to remember the information before running to the platform.

You barely had made it.

It was no shock to see that the train cart was nearly empty. Who would want travel all the way to Gotham at this time at night?

You made yourself comfortable in the back of the cart and sat your book bag on your lap. You silently fiddled with a bracelet on your wrist as the anxiety and guilt began to form in the pit of your stomach. A thousand thoughts began to fill your head.

Gotham was brand new territory for you. You were taught and aware of the violence that occurred. Things could go wrong and he won’t be able to protect you this time….

You quickly shook those thoughts away from escalating and decided to lean against the window and silently look out.

“Lo siento, padre. I hope one day you can forgive me.” You whispered

An: no romance. Miguel is your dad.

no grammar checks. I had to write this before I completely forget. Sounded like a good idea in the moment. Might delete later. Might edit later.