#okay look before you call me reckless and suicidal this was a genuine fuck up and not on purpose

[seilon]

pro tip: do not take four stimulants at the same time unless you want to vibrate so hard you tear your molecules apart and phase into different plane of existence

[ssahotchhner]

reckless endangerment

the reader can't let go of the trauma of aaron being kidnapped and tortured six months ago.

pairing: hotch x reader

warnings: kidnapping, torture, smut, dom!hotch

masterlist

questions, comments, concerns

It was stupid to jump on the helicopter that contained at least two terrorists as it took off that roof in Manhattan. Even stupider that you had done it alone, Aaron’s voice screaming for you from behind. You weren’t sure he would forgive you for this if you survived so you supposed it was a good thing you weren’t planning on surviving.

Why did you jump on the helicopter, you may ask, and that would be a reasonable question. Perhaps it was your hero complex finally getting the better of you, knowing the helicopter was planning on flying straight into the Empire State Building, loaded with explosives. Or perhaps it was because these terrorists were part of a group that had tortured Aaron for hours a few months ago when he was on assignment in Pakistan and you had always believed fully in revenge. Aaron did not, he was much better than you.

“Hold your fire!” Aaron had yelled when it was clear you weren’t getting off that helicopter, “Federal agent on board!”

“With all due respect, sir, but you said that helicopter was headed for the Empire State Building where there are thousands of tourists and--”

“I said hold your fire.” Aaron snarls at the leader of the SWAT team. He knows he’s being ridiculous, letting emotion cloud his judgement, but how can he let them blow up a helicopter that you’re on? And why the fuck had you jumped on it in the first place?

The SWAT agent glared at him, “That helicopter gets within a hundred yards of the building, I’m ordering my men to shoot it down.” And then he walked away.

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, the rest of the team not far behind him, “What the hell did she do that for?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He responded. He was furious with you, so much so he couldn’t think straight.

JJ steps closer, the panic evident on her face, “She’s not responding on radio.”

He looks at the rest of the team, all of them one step away from absolutely losing their minds over the fact that one of their own had gone on a suicide mission without consulting any of them, and then he looks back to the helicopter that’s getting smaller and smaller by the second.

***

SIX MONTHS AGO

You take a sip from your glass, “I miss you.” You say to your computer screen.

On that screen, SSA Aaron Hotchner smiles back at you, “I know. I’ll be home before you know it.”

“When you get back,” You say slowly, “Can we… Can we tell them? About us?”

By them, he knew you meant the team. He gets quiet, the smile falling off his face, “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Hotch, they’re like our family. I feel terrible keeping things from them. It was fun in the beginning, but I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

He swallows, but then nods, “Okay.”

��Really?”

He smiles, “Yeah, of course. I don’t like hiding you either.”

You’re about to tell him you love him when there are suddenly men in the tent, “Aaron?” He looks around and scrambles for his gun, but he’s too late. One of the men hits him in the side of the head with a blunt object and he’s out, “Aaron!” You yell and then the feed cuts out.

***

It was surprisingly easy to disarm them, you supposed because you had surprised them. You easily knocked the gun away from the one who wasn’t piloting, ducked some of his punches before kicking him square in the chest, causing him to fall down. He hit his head on a hard metal handle on the way down, knocking himself unconscious. The Empire State Building was looming closer and closer and you knew if you didn’t stop it, SWAT would shoot down the helicopter. It would lead to less deaths than crashing directly into the building would, but people would still die from fallen debris. You wouldn’t let that happen. You pointed your gun at the man in the cockpit.

***

“Garcia, is her body cam on?”

“No, sir, but I can turn it on.”

Seconds later, the team was viewing the inside of the helicopter. You had knocked one of the men unconscious and handcuffed him to a handle, but you still had to get control of the helicopter.

“Can you hack the helicopter, Garcia?”

He hears the frantic typing of the technical analyst, but she huffs on the other end, “Not under these time constraints no, by the time I get in it’ll be too late.”

“Agent Hotchner, the snipers have locked in on the target.”

“Just give her another minute.”

“We don’t have another minute.”

He sighs, “She’s about to take control of the cockpit.”

“Does she know how to fly a chopper?”

“She’ll figure it out. Stand down, I won’t say it again.” Hotch’s radio goes silent after that.

***

You waste no time getting the team together and forty minutes later you’re sitting in the conference room, styrofoam cup of coffee warming your hands.

“You were video calling Hotch? At 10 PM?” Reid asks. From anyone else, it would sound accusatory, but you knew he was just genuinely curious.

“10 PM here is 7AM for him. I caught him right before he started his day, wanted to ask him about a case.”

Spencer frowns, “What case?”

Your mouth falls open as you try to fumble for something, but it’s already too late. “I knew it.” Rossi says quietly.

You grind your teeth together, “I’m sorry, is dissecting my love life more important to you guys than finding Hotch after he’s been kidnapped by a terrorist group?” You stand, squashing the empty styrofoam cup in your hand and toss it in the waste bin as you walk out of the room.

Moments later, Spencer’s standing next to you and you immediately feel guilty, “I didn’t mean to pry,” He says, “Honestly, the two of you being romantically involved was the last thing I would have guessed.”

The corners of your lips turn up just slightly, “I didn’t mean to snap in there, I know you meant nothing by it, I just… Right before he was taken we talked about telling you all. Together. Once he got back.” You sniff, “Part of me feels like all of you figuring it out without him here is the universe saying he’s going to die out there. I know that’s silly, but…”

“It’s not silly at all. When you’ve witnessed something traumatic, like a loved one being taken away in front of you with no way for you to help, your brain looks for anything to rationalize it. Even the universe predicting the outcome.”

Spencer's voice throwing out facts was actually fairly soothing, “Thank you, Dr. Reid.”

“Come on.” He squeezes your shoulder, “Let’s bring Hotch home.”

***

“Slowly put your hands up and back away from the controls,” You say, flexing your fingers on the gun, “Now!” You say when he doesn’t move. You’re running out of time. Finally, he slowly raises his hands, but at the last second turns and lunges for you. The helicopter tips as you fall over, your gun misfires at the ceiling before tumbling out of the chopper, and you’re free falling until your face slams on the floor and your hands grab the outside edge of the helicopter so hard you’re sure you ripped out your fingernails. Dangling, you grunt as you scramble to hook your feet on something. The pilot, already assuming you’re dead, had gone back to the cockpit.

Finally, you haul yourself back inside and run to him, ripping him out of his seat. He’s bigger than you, though, and quickly overpowers you. His hands wrap around your throat as you’re pinned to the floor and you’re choking, suffocating. All you can think is at least you’ll die before the chopper goes up in flames. And then, in a last ditch effort that’s more involuntary reaction than conscious choice, you’re able to knee him in the groin. His hands immediately leave your throat and instead of taking the moment to catch your breath, you kick him off you and he rolls to the open door. You reach for him, but you’re too late, he falls.

You wanted revenge, but you didn’t want to kill anyone. But you had no time to think about that now. You cough a few times and then stumble over to the cockpit. For the first time since you jumped on the helicopter, you turn your radio back on.

“I don’t suppose one of you knows how to fly a chopper?”

***

When you reenter the conference room everyone’s watching the last few seconds of the video call. They look at you apologetically and you nod in acknowledgement. You have to close your eyes at the sound of your own screams.

“Who was he working to take down while he was there?” Morgan asked.

“The leader of the Kashmir Jehad Force, his name was Syed Khan.” You said.

JJ frowned, “He told you all of this? Wasn’t it classified?”

You nodded, “Hotch asked to bring me on a few weeks ago when they were stuck. I was debriefed, but then they had a break before I could get on the plane. They finished the operation a few days ago, Hotch was supposed to come home in the next couple of days.”

“So Khan is dead?” Rossi asked.

You nod, “No one was supposed to know it was the US Government who did it. They wanted it to look like an accident. They shouldn’t have known Hotch was there.”

“Are you thinking there’s a double agent?” Emily asked.

You shrug, “It’s either that or Hotch was sloppy. Which one would you bet on?” The room is silent. “Exactly.” You say quietly.

***

They don’t have time to be relieved about the fact that you single handedly re-hijacked the chopper because now you need to figure out how to safely land it and you’re a football field length away from the Empire State Building. Reid jumps into action, apparently having read a lot about helicopters when he was younger.

“I’m assuming he had it on autopilot, the button will be glowing green on your left, turn it off and then get ready to steer.”

You sigh, “Spencer, I am so happy to hear your voice.” You flip off the switch like he said and the helicopter immediately starts beeping at you and plummets. You try and remain calm and pull it up and then turn the helicopter in the opposite direction from the building and sigh. “You know how to land this thing, right Reid?”

“Yeah, I’ll walk you through it.”

Hotch has to walk away from the conversation because he’s so caught up in feeling relieved that you’re alive and absolutely furious with you for doing what you did. He thinks he knows why you did it. You had been absolutely torn up when he had been taken while in Pakistan and you had been on edge this whole case knowing the terrorists you were after had been a part of the group that had tortured him.

***

When Hotch wakes up, he’s chained to the ceiling by his wrists, shirtless. He can feel a migraine blooming from his temple where he was hit, but he knows the real pain hasn’t even begun yet. He can hear talking from the corner of the room and before they can see that he’s awake, he begins detaching himself. He pictures your face, smiling at him on your first date. The way you smile sleepily at him when he kisses you first thing in the morning. The way you scrunch up your forehead just a little when you’re thinking really hard. The first time you told him you loved him. And then he’s with you and no one can touch him, no one can hurt him.

***

“Do you know where they would keep him?” Strauss is sitting in the conference room now, looking at you, “You were debriefed, is it enough for a profile?”

You sighed deeply, eyes darting back and forth as you tried to recall all the information you know, “I know most of the profile for Kahn, but we never focused on the group as a whole because we wanted to find him alone when we neutralized him.” You tap your fingers on the table, “I have no idea what a group without Kahn would function like, even knowing what I knew before, the fact that Kahn is gone would change the whole profile. We don’t know who took over.”

“And what do you know about the group?”

“Um,” You blinked a few times, you were having a hard time focusing, “They were all followers, none of them would have been capable of leading. Whoever is in control now was outside of the group.”

“Maybe our double agent?” Emily says.

You nod, “That would make sense.”

Strauss frowns, “You think there’s a double agent?”

“There’s no way the group would have known Hotch was responsible if they didn’t have insider information.” You say.

“What you’re proposing is that a terrorist somehow infiltrated a Top Secret US Operation, waited for us to kill a terrorist leader, then took over that same terrorist group and kidnapped the leader of our operation.” Strauss said and waited for someone to say something, “Does that not sound ridiculous to anyone else?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” You ask sharply.

“Yes, that Agent Hotchner left something behind at the scene that pointed the remaining group in his direction.”

You’re shaking your head, “If you’re so certain that’s the case, then check their old stronghold. If it’s a new guy, they would have abandoned it, which I’m certain they did. But be my guest, waste our time and your men.” You storm out of the conference room for a second time.

***

You find yourself in Aaron’s office and you tilt your head to the side, stretching out a kink in your neck before sitting on the couch. You look around the office, well decorated with plaques commemorating his work in the bureau. When you get up and walk around to his side of the desk, you notice a small gold frame that hadn’t been there before. In it is a small picture of the both of you sitting on the beach at sunset. When had he put this here? When had he decided that it was worth the risk of your coworkers noticing that new frame? Seeing you propped on his desk like that?

And then you were crying and you couldn’t stop it and you just wanted to hold him. “Looks like you just outed your relationship to Erin.” You looked up to see Rossi standing in the doorway and wiped your tears, sniffling.

“Not like she can say anything considering you both make it a habit of checking in at the same hotel every weekend.” You snap, and then sigh instantly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, kiddo.” He says and walks over to put a hand on your shoulder, “You miss him.”

“A few hours ago we were talking about what we were going to do when he gets back, and now he’s gone.”

“He’s coming back, Y/N. We’ll find him.”

***

You had been right about the former stronghold being abandoned. All signs now pointed to a double agent. You tried to think of everything Aaron had told you about the team that would be a part of the operation, but you kept coming up empty. When a list was brought out with pictures of each you went over it again, every conversation you had had with Aaron since he left.

And then… there was one interaction, one interruption that you and Aaron had both dismissed at the time.

A man walks up behind Aaron while he’s talking to you, debriefing you back when they thought you’d be flying in. At the look on your face, Hotch had turned around to face him, “Can I help you with something?”

The man had simply shook his head and left, but you could have sworn for the rest of the call, he had lingered. Listening. Aaron had explained to you that most of those involved in the operation hadn’t known the full details of the plan up until they had left, in order to prevent situations like the one they were in now.

There were times when Aaron was talking to you on the phone and he told you he felt like someone had been watching him, but you both dismissed it as paranoia. And when the pictures and names were presented to you again, you pointed to the man you were sure you saw on that one video call. “What do we know about him?” You asked.

And the look of dread on Erin’s face when you pointed him out told you everything you needed to know. Garcia did what she always did and soon they knew every detail of his life. He was a textbook narcissist and sociopath. Incredibly charming, everyone loved him, he could convince almost anyone to follow him. He had an FBI background and rumor had it, he thought he was to be the one to lead this operation until Aaron showed up.

“So he takes over an entire terrorist organization just to take out Hotch?” Morgan asks, “We have to be missing something.”

You’re getting impatient, “Well let’s figure it out on the jet.”

“This team is not going to Pakistan.” Erin says firmly, “We will inform an extraction team that’s already on the ground when we figure out where they’re holding him.” You’re already rolling your eyes and preparing a retort and she notes that and continues, “If you can’t compartmentalize your emotions, Agent, I will have you removed from the case.”

You hold yourself back from yelling that you need to be the one who brings him home, because you know how ridiculous it sounds and you being stubborn isn’t helping Aaron. “Fine.” You say, “Here’s what I can tell you.”

***

You’re on top of him, straddling his hips, giggling as your hair falls in your face. He reaches up to push it away and you grind your hips against his. “Hotchner.” You say, “You have to wake up.” He frowns. It’s not your voice.

And before he can stop it, your face swims away and it’s replaced by SSA Scott Carter. It takes him a few moments to realize that Carter isn’t here to help him and that he was probably behind this whole thing. “Carter?” He manages.

Carter smiles, “Ah, the darling of the BAU finally awakens. What were you dreaming about, Hotchner? Sounded juicy. Was it about your girlfriend?” His head shot up at that. If you were in danger, he’d kill this son of a bitch. “Oh, I hit a nerve.” He smirks, “Did you tell her you weren’t planning on coming home this week? That you had some loose strings to tie up?”

Hotch blinked, his brain was still fuzzy from what he assumed was a concussion, “You… You’re the one stealing the military weapons and selling them to the terrorist organizations.” He hadn’t told you he was planning on staying a few more days to figure out who was transporting the weapons, he had still been hoping to figure it out before his flight was scheduled to leave, but Carter had been his prime suspect. Apparently, Carter had figured out he was on to him. It was why he was able to get Khan’s men to drag him from his tent this morning.

Carter gives him a slow clap, “You know, for a profiler, I’m disappointed you hadn’t figured it out sooner, Hotchner. Really, I’m very torn up about it. I have half a mind to fly to Quantico after you’re dead and demand your position.”

Aaron laughs, “You’re out of your mind if you think my team won’t figure this out in a quarter of the time it took me to.”

“What did you tell them, Hotchner?”

“I haven’t been in contact with my team in weeks.”

“Oh, but your girlfriend. Did you think I’d forget she’s a federal agent in the BAU as well?”

“She doesn’t know anything, the mission was classified, you know that.”

“You never mentioned your suspicions of a lucrative weapons trading operation?”

“No.”

Carter hums and takes out a knife, “I don’t believe you.”

Hotch doesn’t flinch, “Then go ahead and carve me up, Carter. You won’t be the first.”

***

With Reid’s help, after working through the night you were able to narrow down the possible holding sights to three places and Strauss ordered three separate teams to check each place. Now the only thing left to do was wait.

You’re sitting alone in Hotch’s office when Penelope, JJ, and Emily all walk in, JJ holding a tea for you. You give her a small smile of thanks as you take it, “You guys don’t have to sit with me, I’m okay.”

“Did you think we were going to just let you gloss over the fact you never told us you were dating Hotch?” Penelope said.

You manage a genuine smile and look down at your tea, “We weren’t sure when or how to tell you guys. Or if it would make things weird.”

JJ shrugs, “We’re already family and families are weird.”

“Not the point,” Penelope interjects, “We need all the details now, who made the first move?”

“He did, actually,” You smile recalling the memory, “He asked me if he could call me outside of work hours and I said sure, he could always call me to discuss a case. Then he got really red and I asked him if there was something else he would want to call me about. And he cleared his throat and asked if he could call me to ask me out to dinner sometime and I laughed and said yes.”

Emily shakes her head, “Hard to imagine that man getting flustered over anything.”

You laugh, “Yeah, he gets really awkward around women he likes romantically, it’s kind of endearing.” You clear your throat, “Thank you guys for trying to distract me.”

JJ nods, “They’re going to find him. Alive.”

You nod, “Yeah. I just wish it was my face he was seeing first.”

***

You had somehow managed to fall asleep at some point, head in JJ’s lap with her fingers gently combing through your hair.

“Guys.” Spencer’s voice jolts you from sleep, “They found him.”

All of you jump up, but you’re the first one out of the room, trailing Spencer, “He’s okay?”

“He’s injured, but yeah, he’s gonna be fine.”

Your legs almost give out, but JJ and Emily come on either side to grab your arms as you walk into the conference room.

“They’re airlifting him to the hospital, he was stabbed a couple of times but they were shallow, some burns, looks like he was waterboarded as well,” Erin Strauss smiles, “But he’s fine. They’ll transfer him to DC first thing in the morning.”

“What about Carter?” You ask.

“It turns out he was stealing weapons from the military and selling them to terrorist organizations and Hotch was onto him. That’s why he took him. Not because of Khan. He wanted to know how much Hotch knew and if he had told you anything.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t know anything about that.”

Strauss nodded, “Carter has people here. Hotch didn’t mention it to you on purpose. So that they wouldn’t take you if something happened.”

You close your eyes. That man, always trying to protect you. Always being the hero. You could have found him hours ago if he had just told you. But that was the man you had fallen in love with.

***

You insisted on being on the roof of the DC hospital when the chopper landed and you charmed all the nurses into allowing you into every room he was wheeled in until he was settled. They had sedated him for the long flight and it seemed he would wake at any moment. You slid your small, cold hand, into his large, warm one and waited.

“I know that ice cold hand,” He said slowly. His voice was gravely and it brought tears to your eyes to see that he was trying to smile. “Oh, hey, don’t cry.” He reaches his hand up to stroke your cheek and you turn your head into his hand to kiss his palm, sniffling.

“I’m very happy to see you.” You manage, choking down your sobs, “I didn’t think I was going to see you again.” His smile grows, “It’s not funny!”

“It’s very funny, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry over anything and certainly not me.” You glare at him through your tears and he chuckles, “Ah, there she is, tough guy. I know the only thing holding you back from punching me in the shoulder is that I’m injured.”

“Oh, I’ll still do it if you don’t shut that pretty mouth of yours.”

He smirks, “Promise?”

And finally you break into laughter and lean over him to kiss his mouth, “You should’ve told me about Carter.” You say, “You could have at least told me you were in danger.”

“And what, have you worried from an ocean away when it might have been nothing? I needed more evidence.”

You bite your lip, “I’ve never been so scared in my whole life, watching you get taken like that.”

“I came home.” He says softly, “I’m okay, I promise.”

You swallow, “Did they get Carter?” He nods, “And what about the guys that took you in?”

“Sweetheart, that’s a whole terrorist organization, no they didn’t get them.”

“They kidnapped a federal agent!” You say indignantly.

“And the federal agent is alive.”

“But—!”

He puts a finger over your mouth to quiet you, “Don’t make me argue with you like your unit chief right now. I just want to be your boyfriend.”

You sigh, “Okay,” Leaning over him, you rest your head on his chest and he begins stroking your hair. Having not slept at all since Hotch had been taken, you fall asleep like that. Finally at peace.

***

You hadn’t really been able to let it go, even when Hotch was better and back to work, he could tell you were harboring real anger about his kidnappers.

And on that morning, the morning you jumped on the god forsaken helicopter, when the BAU was asked to come to New York to investigate a possible terrorist threat, he debated telling you not to come. The government had suspicions that they were here to take revenge for Khan and he knew you’d be upset with being benched.

“Hotch, I’m fine. I’m not angry.” You had said when he pulled you into his office after debriefing the rest of the team.

“If you even hint at taking impulsive, reckless risks I will suspend you immediately, understood?”

You sigh, “I hate when you use your boss man voice with me.”

“Y/N—” He starts impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, understood. No being reckless. Got it.”

His eyes scan your face to see if you’re lying, “Good.” He says finally and presses a kiss to your forehead, “Let’s go then.”

He should have known you were lying. It was only the previous night you had woken him up tossing and turning from a nightmare. When he had finally gotten you awake you practically flung yourself at him, arms twining themselves around his neck as you caught your breath, “I thought you were gone again.” You had said breathlessly. And he had wordlessly held you to him, running his fingers through your hair until you were asleep again. It hadn’t been the first time he had had to comfort you. You had had far more nightmares about him being taken than he had about himself being tortured. Truth be told, he had been through far worse than being kidnapped and tortured for 24 hours. He knew it made you feel weak, the nightmares, when you weren’t even the one who had been tortured so he never brought them up. Never made you talk about them. But they worried him all the same. You relived the trauma again over and over, nearly every night. How were you expected to let the anger go when you were still living through it?

He should have known, but he let you out in the field anyway. Would that not put in question his ability to lead? His ability to lead with you on the same team?

He can barely see through his anger as he turns back to where Reid is instructing you to land. When you successfully land and jump out of the chopper, the rest of the team gathers around you to hug you, but Hotch stays back, watching.

When you notice, you walk over to him, “Hotch, I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have--”

“You’re suspended for at least a month, if not more.” He starts, “You’re lucky I don’t remove you from this team all together.”

You frown, “Aaron, I was able to detain one of the suspects, now we can learn more about the group--”

“By doing what you did you put yourself and hundreds of civilians at risk. We could have shot down the chopper, but because you jumped onboard I had to instruct them to stand down. Which, by the way, I had to do several times because they were more than willing to kill you to get that chopper down, do you have any idea the damage you caused? What could have happened if you didn’t get control of that chopper when you did?”

“I… Baby, I’m sorry--” You reach your hand out to put on his arm, but he pulls away.

“Don’t talk like that, I’m not your boyfriend right now, I’m your unit chief. Now give me your badge and gun.”

You know you can’t blame him, he had warned you he would do this and you had disobeyed him intentionally. But still, your hands shake as you hand over your gun and badge. You don’t say anything else as you leave the roof, heading down all the way to ground level to get a taxi back to the hotel. And then you wait. You lay on your back and wait for the sound of the door opening and when it does hours later, you push yourself up and sit cross legged on the bed.

“Hi.” You say softly when he walks in.

He spares you a glance before heading to the bathroom without a word. You sigh and fall back on the bed. When you hear the shower running you decide to undress yourself and head in.

He sighs when he realizes you’ve joined him, but doesn’t object when you wrap your arms around his waist and press your face to his back, “I’m sorry.” You murmur.

“You keep saying that, but I know if you were given the opportunity to do it all again, you’d make the same decision.”

You pause at that, “You’re right, I don’t regret what I did, but I’m sorry I had to disobey you to do it.”

He turns in your arms and looks down into your eyes, “Do you not see the problem with that? You did what you did out of revenge. You let your emotions get the best of you, you broke the number one rule of being in the BAU.”

“Those men were prepared to die at all costs, I just didn’t want them to get off that easy. I want them to pay for what they did to you, and this way, at least one of them will. Would you not have done the same? Did you not murder Foyet after he had given himself up because he had killed your wife and threatened your son?”

“Don’t.” He warns.

You scoff, “You have this God complex sometimes, Aaron, and it’s so frustrating. You can do whatever you want because you always have a reason and from your standpoint you’re always right. But whenever one of your toy soldiers falls out of line, it’s a different story--”

“What I did with Foyet did not put myself or civilians at risk.” He says firmly.

“You went in alone.” You said, “You didn’t wait for backup.”

He looks down and shakes his head, “You cannot compare what you did today to the things I’ve done because I would never endanger hundreds of innocent people just for some petty revenge.”

He thinks your eyes water, but it’s difficult to tell in the shower, “It wasn’t petty, Aaron. Not to me.”

He sighs and bends his forehead to yours, bringing both hands up to cradle your face, “Honey, I’m fine. You have to let it go.”

You close your eyes at his touch and lean up just slightly to capture his mouth with yours and as he sighs into your mouth you pull away, just slightly, “If it was me… If I was the one who was kidnapped and tortured in a country thousands of miles away, what would you have done?”

He swallows, and searches your face, “There wouldn’t have been a single protocol that I wouldn’t have broken to get you home safe.”

You nod, “I’m sorry. I understand why you’re upset, I put others in danger. It won’t happen again.”

He kisses you hard on the mouth, “You’re still suspended.”

You hum and he pushes you against the shower wall, his hand coming up to rest on your throat, “Are you going to punish me?” You asked breathlessly.

“Maybe.” He leans down and scrapes his teeth against your neck, hand tightening around your throat just slightly in warning when you squirmed. “I’m still angry with you.” He says, his eyes looking up to meet yours, tightening his grip on your throat again.

You can barely breathe through his grip, “For disobeying you?”

“No.” He says roughly, “For nearly getting yourself killed.”

You manage to swallow, “And that would have upset you?”

The desire immediately fizzles out of his eyes and he drops his hand, “Of course it would, how could you ask that?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, I just…” You shrug, “I don’t know, forget it.”

“No,” He puts his hands on your shoulders to keep you from leaving, “Do you really think I wouldn’t have been upset if you died?”

“Aaron,” You say slowly, “You are the love of my life. But Haley was yours. And that’s okay, I don’t expect anything else, but it’s just a fact of our relationship that I love you more than you love me.”

He stares at you blankly for another moment, and then looks away to turn the shower off. He leaves you standing there, wet and naked as he climbs out of the shower and towels himself off silently.

“Aaron.” You say after he’s been silent for so long, stepping out of the shower and wrapping your own towel around yourself.

“You think there can only be one?”

You blink, “What?”

“A person can have more than one love of their life, you think you just get one and done?”

You frown, walking over to the bed and lowering yourself onto it, “Yes, that’s the whole concept.”

He scoffs at you, “I forget how young you are, you think you know everything there is to know about relationships, you have no idea.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Me?” He raises his eyebrows, “Don’t patronize you, you’re the one who just tried to convince me you know more about my feelings, about who I love than I do. That’s quite patronizing, wouldn’t you say?”

You look down at your hands, “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

He sighs and walks over to you, crouching in front of you, “Haley was the love of my life, that’s true. But in my head,” He swallows, “There’s the me from before Haley, and there’s the me from after Haley. And you,” He brushes his index finger over the tip of your nose, “Were the person who made the me after Haley believe I deserved love again. You are just as much the love of my life as she is and I have no idea where I’d be right now if I hadn’t met you.”

You finally give him a little bit of a smile, “Probably even more insufferably miserable than you are now.”

He chuckles and you relish in the sound, bringing your fingers up to lightly stroke his cheek, “I’m sorry. For everything today, being reckless, bringing up Haley… I’m sorry, I was out of line.”

“It’s okay,” He says softly, “But you pull a stunt like that again, I’ll fire you.”

“Yes sir.” You say, smirking as you lean in to kiss him, twining your arms around the back of his head. Gently, you tug and pull him back on the bed, on top of you and you feel him smile into your mouth.

Since you’re already naked from the shower, he can’t stop his hands from wandering across your soft skin. His hand grips your thigh, lifting up your leg and allowing him to squeeze your ass. You gasp into his mouth just the way he likes and he bites down on your lower lip. “Aaron,” You whine.

“Did you want something, sweet girl?” He whispers in your ear as his hand slides between your legs.

It’s not fair, he knows when he works you up like this it’s nearly impossible to get a coherent word out of you. You manage only to moan his name again as he slowly, torturously, rubs over you again. “Come on, baby, use your words.” He teases and you can hear the smile in his voice. Bastard.

He runs a single finger down your folds, “Should I make you come with my fingers?” He slowly dips a finger inside you, eating up your reaction as your mouth falls open and a moan claws its way up your throat. “Or,” He pulls his finger out and you glare at him, “I could do it with my mouth.” Your eyes roll back when he licks you and you physically ache at his touch. But then he stops, “Or maybe,” He crawls back up to kiss your mouth and you can taste yourself on his tongue, “I won’t let you come at all since you’ve been such a bad girl.”

“Please,” You whine, “Please, I’ll be good. I promise.”

When he pulls back to look at you, his pupils are blown out and you feel such a rush seeing your effect on him. “We’ll see.” He says softly and without warning thrusts into you. Your back arches against the mattress as you curse. When your eyes meet his, he has a look of such confident satisfaction it nearly makes you come undone right there. “I think,” He pulls out slowly, “I’ll take my time with you tonight.” He reaches up a hand and wraps it around your throat again, “Is this okay?” He says softly, breaking his role for the first time.

You nod, “Please.” You say again, knowing how he loves when you beg. He scans your face once and then he grins again, tightening his hand around your throat until you’re gasping. “Good girl,” He whispers in your ear and slowly pushes into you again, gently biting your ear.

“Baby,” You manage with what little air you’re able to take in. He immediately stops, taking his hands off you, but you shake your head and pull his hand back to your throat, “Harder.”

He sighs and shakes his head, “Fuck,” He curses, wrapping both hands around your throat, “You’re gonna kill me one day.”

And you smirk as he pushes down on your windpipe before slamming his hips into you at full force, you’re rapidly approaching climax, but Aaron can tell. You don’t know how he can tell, but he immediately slows his hips and takes his hands off your throat. You gasp at the sudden release and cough a little bit, “I didn’t tell you you could come.”

“I didn’t,” You say breathlessly, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“You almost did, and you would have if I didn’t stop.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looks at you and tilts his head to the side as he watches you, “Turn around.” He says calmly.

You hide your smile as you do what you’re told, turning on your knees, letting your forearms and face fall to the pillow. He roughly pulls at your waist, repositioning you and pulling your ass up even farther. He runs a hand over your ass, “Look at you, so pretty for me.” He says softly before pulling back his hand and smacking it hard against your ass. You moan into your pillow and then he’s inside you, a fistful of your hair in his fist.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” He asks breathlessly.

“Yes.”

He slams into you roughly making you yelp, “And you’ll never disobey me again?”

You swallow, “Never.”

He releases your hair and leans over you, sweetly kissing your shoulder and you can feel his smile against your skin, “That’s my sweet girl.” He reaches his arm around your front and begins to massage your clit as he thrusts into you. “Come for me, baby.” He says and speeds up his movements. It’s all the permission you need and you’re immediately unraveling. It takes everything in you not to collapse onto your stomach until he’s also climaxing, brought to his edge by the pulsing of your walls. He swears and collapses fully onto your back, your knees giving way under his weight.

You both lay there like that, him resting on your back in silence for a few moments, catching your breath. Then, Aaron sits up quickly, hands searching your skin, “I’m sorry, baby, did I hurt you?”

“No.” You say, but he presses kisses all over your skin anyway, immediately entering aftercare mode.

You sigh sleepily and pull him to you, wanting to snuggle with him. He obliges, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling into your neck. “I love you.” He murmurs into your skin, “So much.”

You hum, “I love you. Thank you for not firing me.”

“If you ever end up getting yourself killed I’ll never forgive you.”

You chuckle and kiss his temple, “Noted.”

[chcfasher]

okay i am so excited to get to plotting & interacting with all u cuties ! bare with me though , im also trying to study for a quiz i gotta take later tonight . anyways , i’m mia aka your resident masshole reporting for duty . i’m 20 years old ... will be 21 in june ( fingers crossed my Sad ass will be out of q*arentine by then ) . i go by she / her / dumb bitch pronouns & am very much so done talking about myself already . so lets get to my boy asher here who is ... how do you say ? a asshole ? a dirt bag ? a soft baby boi ? if you wanna plot & discord is easier for you shoot me a mssg @ 𝖒𝖌𝖐'𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖊#9789 . lets goooo 💛

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒

full name: asher james bennett nickname: ash , aj birthday: march 25 , 1996 zodiac: aries hometown: madison , wisconsin ( click here to see his parents house / childhood home ) current residence: los angeles , california ( although he lives in the villa with everyone , before the year away he lived on his own & still owns the home , both because he loves the place and because it gives his family somewhere to go when they come out click here to see his house ) vehicle: 2017 jeep wrangler rubicon in black ( click here ) , 2019 maserati granturismo in red ( click here ) gender: cismale orientation: heterosexual , heteromantic relationship status: single ( it’s complicated ) family: tamara marie bennett-abbott ( mother ) , harrison charles bennett ( father , deceased ) , mason billings abbott ( stepfather ) , bradford sawyer abbott ( brother ) , stephanie anne bennett ( sister )  education: vocational highschool graduating from the culinary program , graduated ucla with a bachelor in management with a minor in food studies occupation: celebrity chef , tv personality  net worth: 19.7m height: 5′11″ weight: 161lbs tattoos: left arm ( x , x ) , right arm ( x , x  , plus the butterfly tattoo jack has ) , right hand ( x ) , right thigh ( x ) , left leg ( x ) criminal record: arrested ( x6 ) - simple assault ( x2 ) , assault and battery ( x1 ) ,  disorderly conduct ( x2 ) , criminal mischief ( x1 ) , criminal trespassing ( x2 ) , minor in possession of alcohol ( x2 ) , drug possession ( x1 ) drugs / alochol / smoking: yes , mostly marijuana though / yes / no moral alignment: chaotic neutral hogwarts house: slytherin theme song: righteous by juice wrld (  a look at his mental health and the way it he attempts to cope ) & i am by james arthur ( deep dives into his view on himself and how outside opinions of him have effected the way he sees himself ) & empty space by james arthur ( instead of being about a girl this really encapsulates how the loss of his father has affected his life ) traits: charismatic , well-intentioned , affectionate , loyal , jocular , reckless , immature , flippant , short-tempered label: politicians son , miscreant , fuck boy , broken bird , mr. misunderstood , mama’s boy , epicure hidden talents: drawing , singing , master at rubiks cube , skilled card counter ( blackjack )

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

asher was born just eleven months after his sister stephanie , to at the time lobbyist harrison bennett &  prosecutor tamara bennett . a menace as a child , he made dennis the menace look like a saint , basically . at first his parents hoped this was simply just a phase but as time went on it became very clear that  if it were a phase it was going on for much longer than his parents had hoped . his sister immediately taking on the spot of prodigal daughter , while asher took on the spot of black sheep of the family . this didn’t mean that his parents didn’t absolutely adore both of their children , because they did . both taking on daddy’s little girl & mama’s boy respectively , early on . 

around the time asher was seven both of his parents were up for office , his mother for district attorney & his father for u.s representative from wisconsin . the influx of cameras / eyes on the bennett family mixed with the level of stress both his parents were under completely put asher off from the world of politics . despite being in a family that had generational ties to politics on both sides . during a family appearance asher was captured on camera ( both video & photo ) putting up a piece sign behind his sisters head during a speech his father was giving . 

[ tw: death , suicide , loss of a parent ] when asher was twelve his father went on a boating trip with friend , call it a boys trip if you will . two days into the trip news broke of his father being in a major boating accident where harrison was the only one on the boat & was dead upon being found . it later was confirmed by the coroner that his death was likely a suicide .  the loss of harrison was hard on the entire family , it was easy to say it affected asher heavily having locked himself away in his bedroom for nearly a week only leaving his room to go to the bathroom & grab food that he’d return to his room to eat . later , when he returned to school he was suspended just in that school year three times . it was genuinely the beginning to the incredibly reckless version of asher , that we seen since .

despite his antics he played varsity football as a cornerback & varsity soccer as a midfielder . taking up sports at an early age , it was clear he was a born athlete who genuinely enjoyed a little competition . he also took an interest in culinary , he was very much so that kid standing on a step stool as he helped his parents in the kitchen . this interest turned into him attending a vocational / trade highschool instead of an ordinary public school , like he had in elementary & middle . 

when he was fifteen he started a youtube channel where he posted cook with me videos weekly & vlogged his experience within the culinary program at school .

during highschool his mom started getting serious with a professor at the local university . asher , of course , hated the idea of his mom replacing his dad and it took nearly two years & an engagement for him to actually sit down & listen to his mom about the situation . it wasn’t until then that he realized , mason , was supposed to replace his father ... it was simply his mom not allowing herself to get stuck in one place in life & fall into a spiral . once he actually heard her side he gave the guy a chance . turns out the two have alot in common & get along very well . he’ll never replace his father but he respects him none the less .

before he’d even graduated highschool , asher amassed over 1m subscribers , made appearances on the ellen degeneres show & rachel ray show . this was around the time he realized he wanted to turn his hobby into something more than that & hell he was good enough to do so . when graduation came , he’d already committed to attending ucla as a business major with a minor in food studies . 

soon after graduation he went on the show master chef , finishing as runner up , which was one hell of a feat given he’d been the youngest chef on the show . he enjoyed the experience & recognition the show gave him . 

while at ucla he continued to play football he was so good he was receiving national attention to the point where nfl scouts were looking at him . obviously he was still too young to go into the draft but they let him know , this was something that was more than on the table . it was definitely something he loved hearing but at the end of the day , the nfl was never really the goal for asher . so toward the end of his sophomore season when he was suspended for the rest of the season for getting arrested & charged with drug possession & criminal trespassing he took that as the excuse not to return the sport the following season .

this was not the first time ( we know it was not the last *wink wonk* ) asher was arrested . from the end of his middle school days throughout highschool he’d racked up four arrests . his first one taking place in eighth grade & the only reason the misdemeanor charges actually went through were because his mom asked for them to in hopes that it would scare asher from acting out in such a fashion ever again . unfortunately , his actions were rooted in much more than teen rebellion having never accepting or being able to cope with his father’s passing . the charges & arrests that would follow his mom was able to cover up & kind of bury them . that way word didn’t spread like wildfire about her reckless son .

not even a full year removed from football & he’d accepted a tv show offer from food network . a show called asher’s kitchen a primetime half-hour show where a new chef would come on each week if they beat asher in making a 3-course meal they win bragging rights & $20,000 , if they don’t they go home empty handed . despite the shows constant high ratings asher grew bored of the show & left after only two seasons . the network tried to replace him but quickly learned asher’s personality was what really carried the show .

in 2018 , he went on to open his first ever restaurant the smoking goat an american bistro with an upscale vibe in the heart of los angeles . the place is literally his baby & if you can’t find him you can bet your bottom dollar you’ll find him there . whether it’s catching up with regulars or big name celebrities coming through the doors , or throwing on a chef coat and cooking up some of his very own specials . 

around the time of his restaurant opening he started to let up on the youtube channel & it’s now been nearly two years since he’s uploaded & honestly has no intent on returning to the platform . in asher’s eyes , everything has a term limit & his youtube channels time was up .

𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗 / 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

the timing of his amsterdam arrest was to say the least , horrific . not only was he in talks with several networks ( fox , cbs , netflix , etc ) to have his own daytime food-focused talk show but his mother was at the beginning stages of her 2020 presidential campaign , which she had since put a halt to and decided to continue on with her tenure as a u.s senator from wisconsin . with the headlines of his arrest spreading like wildfire , the internet resurfaced many of his earlier transgressions , the networks inevitably put a halt to going any further in negotiation & the political realm began to turn their attention to the kind of parent the senator was to have a son so ... out of control ? her opposition questioning how she could run a country if she couldn’t so much as raise a law abiding son .

upon his release from jail he took a jet straight home to wisconsin . with the realization of how much harm he’d done to the bennett reputation he made the personal promise to stay away from the media ( no social media , no tv , nothing ) & be the son the political world expected from a politician . his mother ( who is emulated mostly after laura baker from all american ) nearly begged him not to halt his life as a way of personal punishment for his actions . but after months back home & away from the limelight , asher could see the tides turning back in his moms favor & no big network offer ( and there were quite a few that came his way after the news of his arrest subsided ) could pull him back out into the forefront . 

instead opening his second restaurant bennett’s  , an upscale bar & grill in the capital city of wisconsin . he also began work on a cook book that’s kind of taken on a life of it’s own but he’s yet to be anywhere close to finishing that . 

he has inevitably decided to come back & reunite with the bling ring a year later after his family sat him down & kind of had an intervention with him over his persistence to punish himself . claiming they feel he’s matured & gotten a good grasp on himself & that they don’t think he’ll fall into his bad behaviors again . ( spoiler alert: they’re going to be very wrong about this ... just saying / he’s going to return with the intent of being a better guy , being on the “ right track “ but lets be real it’s going to quickly spiral out of control as per usual ) . 

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

as you can probably tell this boy is no good . he’s the guy your parents warn you about , i swear , he will get you into so much trouble & bask in the glory of being the one to give you such an adrenaline rush . he’s big on being here for a good time & not a long time . he just wants to have fun , at any cost . he’s extremely goofy , the kind of guy to whip out some mediocre wrestling moves on you for the sake of getting attention . he doesn’t take much seriously ... until he does ? what im saying is homeboy has one hell of a short temper and once he’s flipped his fuse , he basically blacks out . the reason for this is because no matter how happy & full of life he’d like to come off he has this deep well of anger that swells in him ever since he lost his dad . also a topic that can get him clenching his jaw , do not under any circumstances bring up harrison bennett . very much so a mama’s boy , though , catch him facetiming his mom once a day to tell her how much he loves her & see how she’s doing . he can come off very uncaring at times , it’s easy to say he’s probably one of the most misunderstood people around . he comes off like a douchebag , like someone who has little regard for others & don’t get me wrong he often is both of those things but he isn’t heartless ? when he has time to sit back and think about the damage he does ... it hits him like a mack truck & he goes into a pretty dark place of feeling like he’s a villain but he wants to be the hero of the story ? not very big on apologizing , verbally . if he says sorry you can bet a smug grin is following behind the words . instead he’s big on buying things & even cooking to show he’s sorry . probably not the best way to go about things but this is asher we’re talking about here . he is a flirt & will fuck anything . that’s all i have to say about that . onto his friends ? whew are his friends his world . he is a big proponent of bros before hoes & is an extremely loyal guy - to his friends . a true ride or die type a guy , he’d help he hide a dead body without any explanation at so what happened . a big move now ask questions later kinda dude .

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

BREATHE BY JAMES ARTHUR : he has a soft spot for her . he always has . she’s one of the only girls who doesn’t drool over him , they’ve never hooked up to any extent and that’s due in large part to her telling him from the beginning that the only way she’d give him a chance was if he straightened up his act & proved to her that he was worth her time . if there is a girl out there who can asher for the better , it’s her . but everytime she thinks she’s gotten him on the right path , she catches him either acting out or reverting to his fuck boy ways & getting with girl’s who he doesn’t have to put so much work into .

SAME SQUAD BY P-LO : let’s be real these three originated “saturdays are for the boys” . they’ve been boys for as long as they can remember . if you see one of them around you can rest assured the other two are in the vicinity . they’re the best of friends . they know everything there is to know about each other . all a bit reckless , but that’s what makes them such a fun trio . a very homiesexual bond takes place between these three & nothing & nobody could get between them .

CLOSE FRIENDS BY LIL BABY & GUNNA : they were once good friends , things spiraled past the point of their control , lines got blurred & then they were dating . the relationship as a whole was one no one thought would last . to give them credit things were good at first but after he cheated & she found out from a friend about it things started to go down hill . things only got worse when he was persistent in lying to her about the situation . she inevitably took him back & not too much later the arrest in amsterdam happened . before he was even released from jail , she was sent a video of him & one of his friends talking about sleeping with a prostitute . although it never happened the fact that was his intent was enough for her . his expectation was that because she forgave him before she’d wipe away the pain of him once again not having regard for their relationship & forgive him but she just couldn’t . when he came out to her forwarding the video to him , he decided to ignore the situation completely . the two have not had any contact for nearly a year & never really broke up or spoke about the situation . 

NO FRAUDS BY NICKI MINAJ & DRAKE & LIL WAYNE : the perfect ride or die squad . the media likes to say someone in the trio is dating at any point in time but , that’s just not the case . these three are always getting into something . the true depiction of always having your friends back . they will lie for each other , fight for each other , anything to prove their loyalty to each other .  

i also have some musing posts here , if you want to give that a look !

[sanders-sanctuary-au]

Hey y’all I’ve been OBSESSED with this AU and wanted to put out a ficlet for it. I need to say though, this is going to deal with super heavy themes so PLEASE heed the warnings before you read this.

(My SS blog is @falseh0od!)

Summary: On a trip to the underground Tiny fighting rings, Deacon rescues a former champion whose time as a fighter has severely impacted his health in more ways than one.

Warnings: Depression, suicidal thoughts and actions, technically attempted suicide (?), using (small) humans for profits, swearing, treating small humans as less than equal. I apologize if I miss anything!

———————————————————————

There was a Borrower named Garrett.

Garrett had been born in the wild, and spent 20 years fending for himself. He was happy, traveling as much as he could as he fended for himself, and often made connections wherever he went with other Borrowers. He would help those who needed it most, keeping extra food, water, and clothing on him at all times.

Garrett was especially good at keeping himself out of harm’s way, having taught himself early how to put up a good fight. Not that he ever needed to use those skills very often, but they were good skills nonetheless.

Until one day, Garrett’s world was turned upside down.

While borrowing in the city, Garrett accidentally happened upon an underground Tiny fighting ring, and despite his best efforts to get out unseen, he was captured by a human just starting out in the industry.

And his life as a fighter began.

Garrett knew what happened to borrowers who didn’t fight well or disobeyed the humans, so despite his desperation for freedom, he put everything he had into his fights.

To everyone’s surprise, however, Garrett turned out to be an ridiculously good fighter and made a name for himself and the human who owned him very quickly. He was a champion, who never lost.

Despite his bloodthirsty stage persona, Garrett remained a kindhearted spirit, always checking up on his opponents after battles and giving kind words of encouragement to them that things would get better.

Garrett remained in the fighting ring for 6 years, with the same human the whole time. The human himself was bloodthirsty through and through, having gotten a taste of victory and was now addicted to it.

Garrett, however, got very low in spirits very quickly. Day after day, fight after fight, his spirits dropped lower and lower.

Then, he heard about the Shadow Man.

A man who came to fights and took the ‘broken’ borrowers off the hands of their humans and supposedly got rid of them, never to be seen again.

Two weeks later, Garrett hit his lowest.

And he started to lose.

———————————————————————

Deacon walked into the building the fighting ring was in and looked around. It was another routine mission; get in, save the at-risk Borrowers, get out. Dee glanced around at his surroundings, keeping an eye out for frustrated humans with Tiny captives.

A series of loud groans sounded from over by the arena. Dee looked over to see disappointed, irritated faces; obviously, there had just been a hard loss.

He walked over silently, looking over into the arena. A badly beaten Tiny was being taken out of the arena, while the other looked like he had just won the lottery.

The injured Borrower was handed to a furious-looking man, who started screaming at the smaller man like it was no one’s business. The smaller man in his hands looked like he was exhausted, staring at the man with a dull look in his eyes.

And Dee became very, very confused once he realized he recognized the tiny, as a widely-revered, unbeaten Champion.

Who had just lost.

Dee quickly made his way over to the pair, and the screaming became more clear as he got closer.

“WHY WON’T YOU JUST WIN?” the man was yelling. “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE BEST OF THE BEST, NOT A FUCKING PUSHOVER! YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT!”

Dee flinched at the harsh language, growing slightly pissed off.

And then the man saw him. He quieted, and a smile grew on his face.

“You know what?” the man announced. “I don’t have the time nor the money for you anymore. You’re a worthless piece of shit. You’re going to the Shadow Man.”

Dee approached the man, shoving his anger down his throat. “May I help you?”

The man then promptly dumped the Borrower into Deacon’s hands. “Yeah. Take this little fucker. I have no use for him anymore.”

He then walked away without another word, leaving Dee fuming. He looked down to the smaller man in his hands, who looked back up at him.

Tired, dull eyes stared back up at him, the Tiny’s face sullen and pale. He looked neglected, as if the man who “owned” him had not been properly caring for him the past couple weeks. And yet, he had no fear in his expression whatsoever.

Dee pulled out the fold-up cage beneath his cloak, and carefully set the tiny inside. Roman had come down with a nasty cold, and despite his insistings, Dee had gone alone today.

The Borrower didn’t move from where Dee placed him, just laid down and curled into a ball. Concern coursed through his veins.

Something was wrong.

Dee walked around for about an hour after that, periodically checking on the Borrower in his cage. He didn’t move. The ring was also slow today, and he wasn’t able to rescue any other Tinies.

Dee let out a deep sigh as he walked out of the building, cage in hand. He peered inside real quick as he approached his car. The Borrower was still not moving, but Dee noticed that his eyes remained open.

The car door opened with a creak and Dee carefully set the cage in the passenger seat.

“Alright, little dude, let’s get you home,” Dee sighed. At that there was finally a response from the smaller man, who sat up and looked up at him.

“So. When are you gonna kill me?”

The tone of the Borrower’s voice took Dee by surprise. It was flat, but horrifyingly enough, Dee caught almost a bit of hope in there.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dee responded gently.

The Borrower looked genuinely shocked. “What? Why not?”

Dee was taken aback at the sincerely disappointed tone to his voice. “Because I’m here to rescue you.”

The Tiny stared at him. “Rescue?” he repeated slowly. “Listen, I really would prefer it if you skipped the ‘make the Tiny feel safe before you brutually murder it’ act. I know you don’t actually care about me. Just skip the sentiment and kill me, that’s why I wanted my human to give me away anyway.”

Dee didn’t quite know what to say.

He had to pull the car over to the side of the road, not trusting himself to drive at the moment. “What?”

“I’m sick of the fights. I’m sick of beating people up day after day. I’m sick of life in general, of being exploited for human benefit.” The words explained the lifeless look in the Borrower’s eyes. “I truly just want to die. So I started purposely losing in battles so that asshole of a human would want to give me away. So that you could just take me out of my misery.”

Dee was truly horrified. He knew it was bad for Tinies in the ring, but he never would’ve imagined it would’ve come to this- a Borrower having lost all purpose in life to the point of becoming depressed.

To the point of suicide.

Dee looked down at the Borrower. “What’s your name?”

“What does it mean to you?” The Borrower scoffed. “Garrett.”

“Garrett.” Dee managed to get down to the Borrower’s eye level. “Please understand, I am not a Tiny murderer. I work for a Borrower Sanctuary. You will be safe there, no more fighting, no more being forced to beat people up.” Dee’s eyes were soft.

“We hope you can be happy there.”

Garrett looked at him for a long second, then merely shook his head. “I don’t think I could ever be happy anymore.”

Dee swallowed. He hated this so much. “Listen, Garrett,” Dee said softly. “One of the other borrowers at the Sanctuary, who’s name is Emile, is a wanna-be therapist. I think it might do you some good to talk to him.”

“Why? For him to tell me my life means something?” A scoff.

“Maybe. Or maybe just to talk.” Dee started the car up again; they were almost home.

The Borrower didn’t respond, and was silent for the rest of the trip. Dee kept a watchful eye on him, worried he might do something reckless.

As he parked and got him and Garrett out of the car, Thomas came out to meet him.

“How’d it go?” Thomas asked softly.

Deacon pressed his lips into a thin line. “I only was able to rescue one, but I’m worried about him. There’s no blunt way to put this- he-he’s suicidal.”

Thomas’s eyes widened. “Let’s get him inside.”

They moved quickly, Dee cradling the cage with his hands carefully.

Patton and Logan were waiting for them. “So?” Patton called.

“Only one, but he’s not in a good place mentally,” Dee explained carefully as he set the carrier down in front of the other two Borrowers. “Can you take him to Emile?”

Patton climbed into the carrier as are unzipped it, sitting next to Garrett. “Hello,” Patton pressed softly. “I’m Patton. We’re glad to have you here.”

Garrett looked up to him wordlessly and remained silent. Logan moved to grab a wheelchair.

Patton offered out a hand. “Wanna come out?”

Garrett didn’t move for a few long seconds, but then slowly moved to take Patton’s hand. Patton carefully helped him stand up, putting the other’s arm around his shoulder.

Dee gave him a grateful look as Patton helped him out, and Patton responded back with a grim smile.

Logan returned moments later with a wheelchair, and he and Patton helped Garrett into it.

Garrett finally spoke. “Don’t know why you’re helping me, not like I’m worth the effort,” he muttered under his breath. Patton and Dee shared a look.

“I think you’re more than worth the effort,” Patton chimed in softly. “Everyone is important.”

“Whatever.”

Patton sighed softly and looked up at Dee and Thomas. “We’ve got it from here.”

“Thanks Patton,” Dee nodded. “And uh, please keep me updated.”

Patton just nodded, and he and Logan rolled Garrett off in the direction of Emile’s room.

Thomas put a hand on Dee’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Dee nodded stifly. “Yeah. He just... he seemed so ready to die.”

Thomas swallowed. “God, I hate humans sometimes,” he muttered.

“Me too, Thomas. Me too.”

———————————————————————

T: Awwww, poor Garrett! and poor Dee, you could tell how worried he was and how upset he was when Garrett started talking to him. I hope Emile can get through to him, he deserves to be happy again! 

[rason-rodd]

Promising (Begging part 6) (Arkham Knight! Jason Todd x Reader)

Summary: Jason, Roy and yourself are following a lead to stop the crime boss hidden behind the weapon traffic in Qurac. Unfortunately, when you come out with a plan, Jason disapproves and tells you he wants you out of this mission. You won’t let him do that.

A/N: So there it is, the penultimate chapter of the “Begging” series. Sorry for the long wait. Hoping it was worth it.

Warning: Fluff, Smut, Angst (slightly), Language, Violence, 

Tagged:  I decided not to tag anyone since I’m not sure everyone would be interested in reading a fanfic that hasn’t been updated for months

PART  1 /  PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / PART 5

Jason Todd knew Gotham by heart. He knew her for everything she was. He knew the two sides of her, sides she couldn’t hide, sides she could embrace. He knew her darkness, her light, her beauty, and her monstrosity. He knew the gothic terrifying gargoyles and the menacing dark alleys as much as he knew her brand new modern architecture and the shining luxurious avenues. He knew the sound of Gothamites cheering on a Saturday night as well as the sound of ambulances on a Sunday morning and the silence of hearses on Monday. He knew her people as well. He knew how loud they could shout, laugh, love and fight. He knew how they could give life and how easily they could end it.             Yes, even if she was twisted and flawed, Jason Todd learned to love Gotham for who she was. A microcosm of the world, his world. After, Gotham had brought him to the world, like a mother. And like any mother, she was unique.

That’s why he hated the place he was now. A bright dazzling sun, a thin warm golden sand, a freshly mowed green lawn, a perfectly blue swimming pool and a fancy hotel with a view on the Persian Gulf. A fake dishonest beauty made by rich men who believe that petrol and money give them power and the right to openly enjoy luxury and comfort while the rest of the country is starving and decaying.

“Can I ask you a question, Jaybird?” The never tired Roy Harper asked with a liveliness that had the superpower to annoy Jason. “One, don’t call me that. And two, I’m gonna say ‘no’ but I have the feeling you’ll ask anyway because ‘no’ is apparently a word that is not part of your limited vocabulary.”   “ Still mad at me for booking a suite in this heavenly place I see.” Jason glowered through his black sunglasses, his face half hidden under a cap. “Oh come on! What is it with you batboys? Can’t you enjoy life a little and stop brooding over god knows what?”             “ It was a waste of money.” He replied curtly.           “ Oh really? Because the view right now is not worth millions to you?” Roy nodded towards you approaching the swimming pool wearing a backless black swimsuit that hugged all your curves in the most perfect way. “Damn. What a babe!” Jason’s glare intensified instantly but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. Roy could perfectly understand his jealousy and his anger in his silence. “I can’t see your eyes behind those glasses but I’m definitely sure you’re looking daggers at me right now. It must me your jaw. It is more clenched than usual.”   Jason grumbled and looked back at you entering the water slowly and wetting the nape of your neck. Roy was right. You were indeed very sexy but it wasn’t the word Jason wanted to use to describe you. To him, you were not just sexy. You were gorgeous, sublime and magnificent before all. Simply flawless. Unlike Roy, Jason couldn’t look at you and just think, “Damn! What a babe.” He could only gaze and worship every bit of yourself, admire every curve of your body, worship every inch of your skin. And even when the water was sliding between your breasts and suggesting him to stand up, lick it and do to you all the dirty things he has been repressing for days, he couldn’t help but keep on idolizing you as a goddess.           “ Are you two …?” Roy started and Jason glowered again to warn him. Careful with your words, Roy Harper. “ Together or … something like that?”             “ No.” He replied simply.       “ But you used to, no?” Jason didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to talk about his personal life with a man he had met a few days ago and that he would never see again once the mission over. Plus, he didn’t want to remember the time he had spent with you because even the most beautiful memories can be the most painful. “ I take it as a yes. You’re not a talkative man, you know that?” New silence. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my hands to myself, like Selena Gomez.” He joked but that wasn’t funny to Jason, like at all. “Okay, so: always complaining, quiet and humorless. What did that beautiful creature see in you?”   “ Honestly, I don’t know.”    

“ Aren’t you boys tired of bickering?” You asked as you approached them to sit on the edge of  Jason’s sun lounger.     “ Bickering?” Jason harrumphed as he sat up straight, watching you above his glasses with an incredulous look. “Yes. You look like an old couple after their platinum anniversary.”           “Awww. See Jaybird, we’re a couple. Inseparable and made for each other. Till death do us apart” Roy laughed before he received Jason’s towel in the face “Your death is gonna be very soon, Harper.”             You rolled your eyes, exasperated by their childish behaviours though secretly amused. Those two had the real potential to be best friends. “Anyway, any news on the target?”   “ Finally someone interested in doing the job.” Jason sighed of relief. “Well, according to the hotel registry …”             “ That Roy hacked,”  Roy added with a proud smile             “ He is due to arrive tomorrow.” Jason continued, ignoring him. “He booked the entire penthouse and something tells me that taking that scumbag down won’t be a piece of cake. I went on reconnaissance this morning. It seems there are cameras in the every hotel corridors leading to the suite as well as in the elevator and cherry on top, a security code to access the floor.” “ Can’t we just hack all those things?” You looked at Roy since you knew he was certainly the best hacker among you three. “ I can hack the cameras for sure, yes. But even if I do, we will still have a bunch of gorillas protecting our dealer. He must expect us, or at least you ” He pointed at Jason. “ and we can’t enter without the code which I’m not sure I can hack if it’s digital. And if I can’t hack it none of your bat-toys will work.  ”             “ What about breaking in by the window?” You suggested. “ Thought about that. Impossible. Windows are armoured.”           “ Damn! That dude is paranoid!” Roy’s eyes widened and the three of you remained silent to think of a solution. Luckily, you were the one to find one.     “ Does your man have a buyer already?” You asked, genuinely curious         “ Certainly. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered coming here.”             “ And how much does the cargo cost?”                     “Maybe 10 million dollars. Why?” Jason was a bit scared right now. You sounded too determined.         “ Then maybe we should make an offer worth more than 10 Million, an offer he can’t refuse. That would be the best key to access his suite without breaking in.”   “ Pretending to be potential buyers? I like that.” Roy smiled, definitely cheerful and already into the plan. “Please tell it will involve costumes and accent.  I’m good at Mexican accent.”             “ You won’t need an accent. I have a plan.”

It didn’t sound safe, at all. At least that was what Jason’s brain screamed to him as you explained how you thought you three should proceed. His brain screamed so loud he stopped listening at the “once in the suite” part of your suicide plan. “This is madness!” He growled as he took off his sunglasses for you to realise how much he disagreed with you. “This is gonna get us all killed, Y/N. This is gonna get you killed.”             “ Thanks for worrying for me, I suppose,” Roy mumbled before Jason looked daggers at him. He never meant he didn’t care for Roy to get killed. He barely knew the guy but he was not selfish or heartless enough not to care about his safety. But he would not explain his words right now. “This is not Gotham. These men are not lowly street thugs. This is no batkids game.” “ I never considered it a game.” You managed to say as he briefly stopped in his lecture. “Then why are you acting like a child?”         “ A child?” You harrumphed, stunned by the criticism. You never behaved like a child!   “Reckless!” He clarified. “You don’t know shit about the man you want to deal with. You don’t fucking care about this mission. You got into it because of me. You have no selfless goal in this. All you want is to drag my ass back to Gotham quickly enough to solve the family drama. You don’t take all this seriously.” How could he talk you like that? You opened your mouth to retort, angry and embarrassed but he stood up and kept shouting the same way Bruce used to shout at you when you were Batgirl. “Honestly, Y/N. Just leave this place. Go home. We’ll see each other in Gotham.”         “ No.” Your answer was that simple and it’s probably that simplicity that unsettled Jason. He stared at you with round eyes, mouth agape. You glowered back at him, letting an uncomfortable silence settled between you.           “ You don’t get to decide for me, anymore.” You finally added with a coldness that froze this sunny paradisiac place.   “ When did I ever get to decide for you?” He asked between his gritted teeth.       “ When you left me.” You replied gravely and resentfully. The frown on Jason’s face slowly disappeared and soon guilt and sadness could be read in his young wounded eyes. You knew you had just dropped a bomb on him but you weren’t sure to regret it. After all, he could be such an ass sometimes. “See you both later.” You said as you left him to ponder over your words. “ Wow. I don’t know how you guys broke up, Jaybird, but she’s still not over it.”            

Call it stubbornness or recklessness, you wouldn’t change your mind. You were too involved now. Plus your plan was enough tied together to work, you were sure of it. Jason just needed to open his eyes a little to realise it and stop with his overprotectiveness already.     But he was way too much like you. He would never admit he was wrong or change his mind and, as you were alone in your room, you were getting ready for a new argument since you were certain he was currently establishing a list of undeniable reasons for you to abandon the mission.

When you heard footsteps from behind your door, you guessed you wouldn’t have to wait long. 1, 2, 3 … You started counting on your fingers and the door slammed open. “ What the hell was that?!” You sighed and stared at Jason whose face was now as red as his hood.       “Me avoiding the conflict, I suppose.” You replied calmly. “Since arguing with you is impossible.” “ There was no reason to argue.”       You rolled your hand with a sarcastic smile, waiting for him to go on, to lash out, to tell you everything he wanted to say to you. “I’m taking care of this. You’ve been involved enough.” “ Oh, so I have to leave but Roy can stay?” You frowned.   “ Roy was working on this way before we met.”       “ Oh sorry, I didn’t realize that there was a registration period.” Jason pinched the bridge of his nose to breathe in loudly, definitely annoyed. “ You don’t seem to evaluate the danger, Y/N” “ I evaluate the danger perfectly, Jason. I was trained to do so. Just like you. I’m not rushing into the lion’s hen without a plan.”       “ It’s a bad plan! It won’t work!” He shouted with a trembling voice.         “ Why don’t you trust me?” Jason stared at you. You were genuinely looking for his answer. He could see it in your saddened eyes. “I do trust you. It’s you who don’t trust me.” His tone was suddenly a lot calmer. He came to sit by your side on the bed. “I just want to protect you, like I always did. And you can find my attitude revolting and silly and have all the arguments in the world to try to make me change my mind or even tell me again that it’s me making choices for you, I won’t let you do this. There is too much risk I could lose you.”

Tiny tears had formed in his beautiful blue eyes but he didn’t let them flow. Instead, he just looked away and remained quiet and tensed, his hands gripping tightly at the bed sheets.         You stared at him, not really knowing what to say. Perhaps there was nothing to say, just something to do. You took his hand in yours and he welcomed it by intertwining his fingers yours. But he still couldn’t even glimpse at you, apprehensive of what he would see. He breathed out. “Leaving you was the toughest choice of my life and I get you’re still mad at me. The thing is, seeing you in this bed, between life and death, because of me, was something I could not handle. I couldn’t live with myself and I didn’t want you to live with myself either. I was dangerous, to you, to everyone I loved and I was still broken because of Joker.” You let him talk, listening carefully to his grave confessions which, you knew, was something very hard for him to do. “I’m not broken anymore, not as much as I was when I met you. I picked myself up, accepted that Joker would always be a part of me. But today, it’s not about Joker anymore or about my state of mind, but it’s still about me. Y/N I cannot put you in danger again because … if something happens to you and it’s on me again, then, I don’t think I’ll survive it this time.” Jason looked down at his feet, terrified by his own words and by all the images of you dying on him passing in his head. He still had your hand in his and he was holding it tighter right now, refusing to let you go.

You knelt on the bed and cupped his face, forcing him to finally look at you. He did and accepted you seeing his fear, his weakness. You pressed your forehead against his. “ You will never lose me.” You declared. “But I don’t want to lose you either. You can’t leave again.” He stared right into your eyes; making you a silent promise only your eyes could catch. And he bound that promise with a soft kiss that eased the pain they had both kept during all these years. It was soft, pure, healing.         Jason helped you press your body against his, deepening your kiss. He needed it. He needed that kiss, that embrace. He needed you and he was tired of keeping you away.       He tightened his arms around you. So did you. Your hand on his neck, you pulled him even closer, as if it was even possible, and a soft moan resonated in both your throats. That was the signal Jason so longed to hear again.         He nestled his face in your neck and started kissing you right there. You breathed in deeply, enjoying his expert mouth along with the sudden heat growing and rushing in your body. You lay down on the bed, pulling Jason onto you, and touched his chiseled muscular abs through his t-shirt with the tips of your fingers. How much you had missed his soft hot skin.

Jason pulled up your skirt and his hands venture from your thighs to what was between them. Instinctively, you spread your legs, welcoming Jason between them. He knelt and stared at you with awe and a desire that left you a bit uneasy for his lust was drawn in admiration.  “You’re so perfect.” He whispered. You blushed and when you tried to tell him he was wrong, he caught your lips to kiss you again, this time more passionately than before. You grabbed the hem of his t-shirt to get rid of it.  Jason helped you and threw the fabric away. You gazed at his magnificent chest, ignoring the tiny scars covering it. He was so dashing.

You pushed Jason on the mattress and straddled him. The call of his bare chest was too loud for you to resist your urges any longer. You slowly started planting humid tiny kisses down his body, using occasionally your tongue to lick his hot skin. You loved doing it, perhaps even more than him liking it. And you had missed it terribly.       Jason hissed as you approached the V of his abs, your hands on the hem of his shorts. His jaw was clenched and his blue eyes were now dark with desire, begging you to do it. That made you grin and you pulled his shorts along with his boxers. His half-erect cock sprang free and you grabbed it to jerk him off a bit.       Jason let a small growl escape his lips and sat up to pull off your little dress. How happy he was when he realised you were wearing no bra, and those breasts, gosh, he could gaze at them, at you, forever. He caressed your hair, moving it aside so that he could clearly see your beautiful face and you smiled before kissing the tip of his penis. He hissed again and you looked up at him before starting to suck his cock without breaking eye contact. Jason cursed. That was just divine. “Damn.” You looked divine too, with pleasure glowing on your face as you were genuinely enjoying him in your mouth. Jason began thrusting in you, holding you by your hair, occasionally and accidentally making her almost gag on him, but you didn’t mind. It reminded you good old times and he was still sweet and respectful.         Jason’s head suddenly slammed against the mattress. His eyes closed and his jaw clenched as he gripped your hair harder. You knew what it meant but you didn’t stop. You bobbed your head more quickly and massaged his balls, moaning sensually with his throbbing cock still in your mouth, the way you remembered he liked. “No, please, not now, Y/N.” He moaned and you stopped, rather proud of yourself to see him like that.           “Come here” Your eyes widened slightly when you understood he wanted you to sit on his face but shock moved on to arousal. You did as he said; your pussy already wet, and placed yourself upon his face. Jason caught your thighs and without forewarning began kissing your clit. Your legs instinctively almost closed and you grabbed his hair as his tongue was now playing with your bud. He was doing great, licking up and down, down and up, so great you eventually started moving your hips. “Jay” You whispered. He hummed against you and the vibration made you vibrate yourself, moaning louder than before. He had found the right spot apparently. “Oh, Jay. Ha” You were unable to talk properly now. “Yes right there.”           Jason grabbed your thighs more strongly to keep you still as you were getting  wetter in his mouth. You were close. So close. Only a few more licks and kisses. And that’s it. You caught his thick thighs not to fall and came loudly on his face. Your body trembled and shook under so much pleasure and Jason grabbed your waist, staring at you in admiration as you came undone on top of him. He sat up, held you against him and you nestled your face in his neck, exhausted. “You’re okay?” He asked as he kissed your shoulder. You nodded and he laid you down on the bed again. “Shall we keep going?” You nodded again and positioned himself between your legs. You felt him penetrate you softly and slowly. A sweet moan escaped your mouth and Jason started moving. He was so kind, so gentle, simply perfect. His moves were tender and loving. You loved it so much.       You sighed, enjoying how sweet he was. “I love you, you know?” he said staring at you in the eye. “I love you too, Jay.” He kissed you softly, still moving in and out of you. He kept on that pace for a few minutes but then he felt the urge to come. You felt him and wrapped you legs around him. You wanted him to do it inside of you. He understood it and so he put weight on his arms and he deepened his thrusts. You dug your nails in his arms and watched his cock coming in and out of you more quickly and more roughly between your legs. Jason growled, loudly, and suddenly stopped moving. You felt his cock twitching and his seed spreading inside of you and dripping from your pussy as he pulled out.

Jason let himself fall by your side and breathed out deeply. He didn’t say anything. He simply took your hand in his.         He’ll never let you go. So will you.

[beauzoleils]

ABIGAIL  COWEN ,  CISFEMALE ,  SHE / HER    →   according  to  the  school  records ,  NATALIE  LUCILLE  BEAUSOLEIL  has  been  attending  sacred  heart  for  the  past  three  years .  i  last  saw  them   hanging  around  the  john  bracken  library  ;  i  think  they  were  working  on  writing  her  novel .  at  twenty - one  years  old ,  natalie  has  been  studying  english  literature  and  get  this ,  i   heard  that  she’ll  zone  out  while  writing  papers  for  class  and  come  to  surrounded  by  pages  and  pages  full  of  archaic  languages  she  doesn’t  speak   —   figure  it’s  true ?  everyone  around  here  always  associates  them  with  a  moonlight  sonata  echoing  through  empty  halls ,  seats  in  the  back  row  at  the  opera ,  and  dead  flowers  pressed  between  the  pages  of  an  old  book .  in  the  time  since  these  strange  happenings ,  they  have  encountered  unexplained  occurrences .     

HI ,  hello .  i’m  hannah  n  this  is  like .  the  only  thing  i’ve  been  thinking  about  recently ,  aka  i’m  so  excited .  ok  anyway !  i’m  20 ,  kickin  it  in  the  est !  i’m  a  full  time  student  ( majoring  in  being  a  dumb  bitch  n  gay  rights  and  i’m  at  the  top  of  my  class  baby . . )  and  i’m  ALSO  a  preschool  teacher  so  if  i’m  ever  Not  here ,  i’m  with  my  babies  ! !  but  that  isn’t  the  reason  why  ur  all  here . .   ur  here  for  an  intro  post !  so !  

let’s  talk  abt  my  girl . . .  𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄  𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐋 !

okay .  so .  first  thing’s  first .  i  have  some  Real  Things  prepared  for  my  girl ,  including  but  not  limited  to :

a  pinterest  board !

a  stats  page !

and  what  i  call  NATALIE :  A  TRAGEDY  IN  THREE  ACTS .  it’s  kind  of  a  bio ,  mixed  in  with  some  stage  directions  here  and  there .  it’s  a  quick  read  n  rly  gives  you  that  Natalie  Flavor  if  you  know  what  i  mean . .  so  if  you  feel  so  inclined  n  wanna  take  a  look . .  but  full  disclosure  it  rly  does  hit  different  than  just  reading  this  intro 

anyway !  i’ll  give  a  more  condensed  version  of  her  bio  here  n  some  info  abt  her  personality  n  some  random  headcanons . .  etc !

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓  𝐈 :  𝑨 𝑯𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀

alright  SO .  our  girl  natalie  was  born  on  april  13 ,  1952  to  michel  and  colette  beausoleil .  it  was  a  thursday ,  and  it  was  ALSO  eleven  weeks  before  colette’s  due  date ,  so  we  all  know  that  can’t  be  good 

( spoiler  alert :  it  wasn’t )

natalie  was  supposed  to  be  a  twin ,  but  the  other  baby  ( a  boy  named  pierre )  didn’t  survive .  they  didn’t  think  that  natalie  would ,  but  she did !  unfortunately ,  her  parents  were  too  wounded  by  the  loss  of  their  other  baby  and  it  was  all grieving  and  no  celebrating .  

also .  there’s  more  info  abt  her  parents  n  how  they  met  in  the  bio  but ,  a  sparknotes  version  is  that  michel  was  a  playwright  in  paris  and  colette  was  a  ballerina / his  muse  and  they  rushed  into  a  marriage 

michel  made  it  rly  big  a  couple  yrs  after  natalie  was  born  and  so  they  decided  to  use  that  $ $ $  to  send  natalie  away  to  an  expensive  boarding  school  in  london  called  our  lady  of  sacred  suffering .  it  was ,  of  course ,  a  catholic  girls  boarding  school  and  natalie  hated  it  there

but  they  hated  natalie  there  bc  she  was  just  the  WORST  catholic  school  girl  of  all  time ,  so  it  was  mutual

meanwhile ,  her  relationship  w  her  parents  is . .  very  complicated .  her  dad  is  just  kind  of  The  Worst  across  the  board ,  very  reliant  on  drinking ,  definitely  got  into  drug  use  at  some  point ,  had  lots  of  affairs  with  the  young  actresses  in  his  plays .  and  colette  was  just . .  very  sad  and  very  absent  so  the  support  was  Minimal

natalie  has  a  lot  of  issues  that  are  all  rooted  in  her  childhood  tbh .

somewhere  along  the  way ,  she  found  a  deep  passion  for  Writing  and  developed  this  sense  of  purpose  and  for  a  minute  things  were  going  very  well 

which  we  all  know  means  things  are  about  to  get  WORSE . 

on  her  eighteenth  birthday ,  natalie  receieves  a  card  in  the  mail  from  her  mother  for  the  First  Time  Ever .  and  she  immediately  is  like .  huh .  well .  something  is  Wrong .

she’s  right .

( tw :  nondescript  mentions  of  car  crashes  &  death )

a  week  later ,  she  receives  word  that  her  parents  were  involved  in  a  serious  car  accident  at  the  pont  de  l’alma  tunnel  in  paris  and  her  did  not  survive  the  accident .

( end  tw )

her  mother’s  family  is  not  convinced  that  michel  should  walk  away  from  this  without  blame  and  decides  to  take  legal  action  against  him  and  get  him  convicted  with  a  more  serious  charge  than  just  manslaughter . 

they  promise  to  keep  natalie  out  of  it  as  much  as  possible  but  when  it  comes  time  to  testify  as  to  whether  or  not  michel  had  a  history  of  not  caring  about  colette’s  life  and  well - being ,  the  only  one  who  can  speak  to  it  is  natalie .

so  she  testifies  and  it’s  her  testimony  that  is  the  metaphorical  nail  in  the  coffin .  

( tw :  suicide  mention )

michel  knows  it ,  too .  that’s  what  natalie  thinks .  he  turns  up  dead  in  his  jail  cell  the  day  before  he’s  supposed  to  be  sentenced .  she  never  knows  if  he  deserved  the  life  sentence  he  was  going  to  be  given .

( end  tw ) 

so  then !  she’s  an  orphan !  but  she  does  gain  control  over  everything  that  her  parents  left  behind ,  which  turns  out  to  be  a  lot .  

she  sells  their  house  in  paris ,  goes  to  wales  to  begin  university ,  and  hasn’t  gone  back  since  then .  but  like ,  she  grew  up  in  london  for  the  most  part  so  she’s  not  exactly  sad  about  being  away  from  paris  and  all  the  ghosts  there .

and  now  she’s  at  sacred  heart ,  working  on  writing  her  debut  novel ,  which  is  the  ( albeit ,  dramatized  and  fictionalized )  story  of  her  parents !

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓  𝐈𝐈 :  𝑨  𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀 .

so  basically ,  she’s  got  issues .

fictional  character  inspo  includes :  jo  march ,  alaska  young ,  cheryl  blossom

if  you  know  anything  abt  astrology . .  she’s  an  aries  sun ,  mercury ,  and  venus . .  and  a  scorpio  moon  and  mars . .  and  a  gemini  rising . .  i’m  so  sorry JKDSFM

she’s  very  emotional  but  does  a  super  good  job  of  hiding  it  and  keeping  all  those  emotions  ( esp  the  intense  n  darker  ones )  buried  away . .  deep  down  where  no  one  could  see  it

the  minute  that  ppl  kind  of  ? ?  but  two  and  two  together  n  realize  who  she  is  ( bc . .  in  my  head . .  her  dad’s  whole  trial  was  kind  of .  A  Thing  that  the  public  knew  abt . )  they’re  probably  rly  concerned  w  Little  she  shows  any  real  emotion  to  the  whole  thing . 

rly  she’s  just  the  queen  of  compartmentalizing  n  repressing !

she’s  very . .  Assertive .  like ,  when  she  wants  something  she’s  going  to  do  whatever  it  takes  to  get  her  way  

very  Very  reckless .  she’s  like . .  so  fucking  impulsive  that  it  physically  Pains  me  sometimes .

she’s  very  smart  but  like .  More  So ,  she’s  very  clever  and  very  sharp  with  her  words .  a  very  fast  thinker  and  a  very  loud  talker 

someone  please . .  tell  her  to  stop  yelling .  she  needs  to  Relax . 

she’s  very  charming  i’ll  say  it .  n  like ?  seems  cool ?  the  kind  of  person  that  you  meet  and  immediately  want  to  hang  out  w  them .  

very  flirty ,  has  always  used  that  charming  smile  of  hers  to  get  ppl  in  her  corner  and  she’s  not  gonna  stop  now !  she’s  very  good  at  making  ppl  feel  special  

but  like .  she  means  well  most  of  the  time  sdkfj  her  heart  is  in  the  right  place  okay

big  time  trust  issues .  big  time  commitment  issues .  painfully  independent  and  refuses  to  let  anyone  know  how  much  she  cares  about  them  until  she’s  like . .  Really  sure  that  they  aren’t  going  to  hurt  her

also  very  afraid  of  hurting  people ,  which  is  another  reason  why  she  struggles  to  get  attached  to  people .  she  definitely  has  this  deep - rooted  fear  that  Bad  Things  follower  her  and  she  doesn’t  want  to  drag  ppl  into  that

it’s  literally  a  toss - up  as  to  whether  she’s  going  to  seem  like  she’s  demanding  ur  attention  or  entirely  disinterested  in  it .  bc  she’s  all  over  the  place . 

but  like .  i’m  an  emotional  BITCH  so  she’s  probably  going  to  end  up  being  100000%  softer  than  i  intend  bc  i  project  too  much  soft  bitch  energy  onto  my  characters  Always .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓  𝐈𝐈𝐈 :  𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺 .

so  many  things .  literally ,  anything .  just  a  disclaimer ,  if  u  read  thru  this  and  had  An  Idea  then  like .  yes  Pls  tell  me ,  i  want  it  xoxo 

but  here  are  some  i  have  up  in  the  old . .  noggin .

EXES .  please ,  please . .  for  the  love  of  GOD  give  me  some  angsty  exes  nonsense .  do  you  need  someone  who  broke  ur  characters  heart ?  consider  natalie  UR  GIRL .  she’s  Emotionally  Damaged  and  has  the  capacity  to  be  the  angstiest  ex  of  all  time ,  okay ?

give  her  a  weakness .  she  needs  someone  who  she’s  Actually  vulnerable  around  and  actually  sees  her  have  emotions  and  knows  she’s  not  just  this  huge  Mess  all  the  time

i  rly  want  someone  that  is  like .  from  the  same  ( ish )  bg  as  her  in  the  sense  that  like . .  they  also  were  surrounded  by  nice  clothes  n   expensive  private  schools  n  Luxury  but  like .  they  Thrive  in  it  the  way  natalie  used  to  wish  that  she  could .  n  just .  i  think  it  would  b  a  super  interesting  dynamic  bc  they  would  just !  clash !  so  intensely ! !  n  tbh  nat  would  probably  b  lowkey  jealous  Still  n .  spicy !

@ all  those  ppl  who  are  into  theatre :  i’m  Dying  for  some  connections  of  ppl  who  knew / knew  of  her  father  n  would  know  what  happened  w  him  perhaps  on  a  deeper  level  than  ppl  who  read  it  in  the  newspaper  a  few  yrs  ago . .  ( bonus  points  if  they  lowkey  idolized / looked  up  to  her  dad  bc  thats  a  Big  Mess  and  could  b  spicy  as  fuck  to  explore ,  u know ? ) 

idk  if  any  of  y’all  have  characters  who  grew  up  in / around  paris ?  but  if  there  are . .  then  Perhaps  someone  who  knew  her  in  her  youth ?

okay .  not  to  be  Trash  but  like .  i  rly  want  her  to  have  a  dynamic  that’s  jo  x  laurie  adjacent ?  do  they  have  to  be  in  love  w  her ?  no !  i  just  want someone  that  has  that  genuine  bond  w  her  and  they  care  abt  each  other  n  goof  around  n  like . .  i’m  already  getting  soft  on  main ,  huh , ,

she’s  soo  fucking  messy  that  like . .  all  the  messy  fwb / frenemies  with  benefits / one  night  stand  type  of  plots . .  yes  pls 

i  always  want  there  to  b  a  badass  girl  squad  like .  a  group  of  ladies  n  theydies  that  take  no  shit  n  get  in  fights  for  each  other  n  rly  truly  ride  or  die  w  each  other . .  we  can  workshop  the  name  ok  but  for  now ?  my  girl  squad  is  open  for  applications 

okay .  let  me  cut  myself  off  right  there  but  i’ll  leave  you  with  my  WANTED  CONNECTIONS  TAG  n  also  again  i’m 10000%  okay  to  just  brainstorm  out  something  else  completely  if  its  what  ur  feeling !

if  u  read  all / any  of  this . .  i  love  u . <3  either hmu on discord ( let's go 𝓁𝑒𝓈𝒷𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓈 ! #6227 ) ksdjfskm  OR !  like  this  n  i  will  come  to  u !  okay ,  that’s  all ,  bye 

[ellerevelle]

okay so im feeling crazy and detached again (as usual lately)

but instead of spiraling into absolute fucking panic, I’m deciding to take today to just ... not wholly subscribe to this manner of thinking BUT. JUST FOR NOW. I feel like taking some of the craziness flack off myself and blaming it on some shit outside of myself. Because feeling this weird and detached cant all just be me. So here’s a brainstorming of whats got me fucked up, in no particular order: 

Trump is our stupid President

That guy who told me he loved me daily and asked me to be his girlfriend after basically living with me immediately after meeting me and I fell for hard despite a ton of red flags CHEATED on me while I was away visiting home. 

And then blamed it on MY bad communication? fuck that guy. 

But now I see one of the girls he slept with (multiple times, three days in a row) I see her everywhere all the time in everyones instagrams, at everyones parties... ugh. 

Um. People are dying. Close to me. More importantly and spefcifically women I love are dead. 

I didnt get to see Inga before she died. I was too busy forging a relationship with CHEATER GUY. Didnt get home in time to see her. Talk to her. 

Grandma. This has been the whole first year without her, come November. Its subtle, but terrible and I hate it. She was my last matriarch. The last woman who’s blood is in me. 

because Mom’s dead too. And has been since August of 2015. 2015, right? God it feels like forever ago now, probably because I’ve pushed it away. She died unexpectedly and NO ONE IN MY FAMILY HAS SAID THE WORD SUICIDE OUT LOUD even though thats what happened. She OD’d on prescribed opiate painkillers to escape her depression. And we NEVER talk about it. 

So I kindof feel insane. Not talking about things that are clearly there. Like, are they not clearly there for anybody else? Now all my women are gone. My brother literally avoids talking about feelings. My dad is a little more receptive but is more the comforting type than the forthcoming, express onesself type. Getting sentimentality out of my brother is like pulling teeth sometimes. But yet if his son does something cute, its God’s Work and he cant help but cry and get that beautiful lovie squishy look on his face. 

I’m jealous of my own nephew. I see the way my Mom loved me, in the way my Brother loves his son. And I miss being that perfect to somebody. My Dad loves me forever and always and there isnt a word for how grateful I feel for our relationship. I dont take that for granted at all. It actually kindof scares me because... hah, well what if Dad dies? Like, before I’m ready? I’ll be even MORE fucked! 

Anyways. Austins been pissing me off. I’m sorry but although Polyamory is possible and cool and im sure quite beautiful for many, 

The Austin poly scene is fucked and tainted and a bunch of slutty people having orgies and not TALKING about anything and its ruining the healthy vibe poly is incumbent upon. 

So, whatever I’m angry. So fuck that noise. 

I feel like because of cheater guy and my anger at the psuedo poly orgy sexy bullshit scene in Austin, I feel like I’ve broken up with a whole group of friends. Like, I dont want to be around any of it. I dont want to see you eat mushrooms and twerk. I dont want to see your stupid, super naked outfit. I dont think its hot you carry a flogger or can pole dance or slink around like a tarantino character. It used to be hot and thrilling and fun, when I felt like it was connected and for love and sharing and caring. But now it all just is slutty and vapid and useless and cold. Like a sad clown. And thats not sexy, its dark and desperate. *this is about both VERY particular people and broad general strokes. There are several extremely amazing friends in the scene and outskirts thereof that truly inspire me and dont fall into this catagory in my mind, although they’d probably still be angry with me for dissing things ^^ the way I just did but. fuck it, this is MY journal entry and I can be irrational if I want to. 

You cant be open fucking minded ALL the time. Sometimes people really arent acting with anyones best intentions but their own. I’ve used up SO MUCH FUCKING ENERGY making myself soften and open and “woke” and trying to go with everybodys flow. And I’m exhausted and over it. I have my own principles and theres nothing wrong with having differing opinions than someone else. 

All summer I’ve been feeling like I’m a bad person for not liking or not understanding this hyper sexual scene in Austin. I thought, “why am I shaming a scene thats giving me opportunity to really shine and be free?” when, in an IDEAL world, yes thats what the scene could be. But in what actually fucking unfolds -- humans SUCK and dudes SUCK and girls SUCK and everybody (especially when horny) are fucking STUUUUPIIIIIDDDD and ideals get thrown out the window! people arent nearly as “woke” as I gave them the actual credit for. Seriously. So! I’m fuckin OUTTIE! 

I’ve felt broken up with a whole scene. FUck cheater guy, fuck poly, fuck orgies, fuck people who are reckless with my love. 

Back to the list:

I’ve been eating too much out of boredom. Which I’ll blame on lack of quality social interaction in this town. Where are the scholars? Where are the sexy edgy BRAINY people? I’m tired of hot people in little clothing in the summer. 

Ah! Another thing for the list. its been TOO FUCKING HOT OUT. FOR MONTHS. 100 DEGREES FOR MONTHS. thats enough to make anyone insane. 

So i’m sick of teenie boppers in their nothing outfits in the heat. 

I want old smart people in peacoats. I miss books and weather and frowns. Irritable debates about literature or physics or religious theories. 

I only like my own brand of cigarettes. 

My roommates are annoying me. I dont really like my house anymore. Theres too many humans and not enough square footage. Four people to one kitchen is TOO MUCH SHIT. EVERYONE BUYS THEIR OWN BANANAS AND THEY ALLLLLL GO BROWN ON THE TABLE. thats four peoples worth of bad bananas. FUcking stupid. 

I dont have a hairdresser here. Sometimes when I feel shitty I like to throw money at the problem. Buy something. Get a haircut. See a show. Etc. 

And my hairdresser love is in Philadelphia and getting a flight to get a haircut is slightly insane (without a longer visit)

I miss Adam. 

What else can I blame my upset on. Shitty politics, shitty weather, shitty social sexual scene in my town, I dont like my house, I dont like my hair. Its too expensive to live here. No one in my immediate acquaintance or friend circle seems interested in the sort of romantic relationship I’m seeking, nor if they did does anyone have the “it” factor I look for which I’ll *try* to describe maybe in another post. 

So. I sit inside my room and try to fix stupid remedial things as if itd make a big impact. I tidy and put away clothes in attempt to feel less cluttered but am too scared to make BIG cuts and BIG changes. So instead I light insence and watch netflix and eat too much. I have started going to Barre3 again more and have been semi regular with therapy so thats something. 

I really ought to start doing “morning pages” like the book Fiona loaned me suggests in its FIRST GODDAMN CHAPTER. But, alas, I am lazy. 

No, I have become recently lazy. 

I’m spoiled. I dont do things I dont want to do. Its a major character flaw. I only push and struggle if I see worthyness in it, and lately theres been serious lack of evidence of that in, well, anything.

 #depression! 

so, I guess in summation- because nothing has been a WORTHWHILE struggle, EVERYTHING feels like a struggle. Humph. thats... thats not good. But it does, because i dont see the worth in a lot of goals or tasks or even relationships, (and i dont mean the greedy “what can I GET for ME out of this!” sort of b.s.) (I mean the... conserve precious energy, is this going to teach me something or help me grow as a person or bring love into my life sort of vibe) ...

when I dont think the energy expenditure is going to pay off, I dont do it. Or I do it half way or lazily or with tentative fear. I guess I could do an experiment and just do everything with HOPE and see if my energy put in will get a different result... but. like. I feel like I did that all summer and he cheated on me. And my “friends” said “dont be angry, be poly” and I couldnt call on my Mom or Grandma and so I call on eating and isolation and running away to visit home where no one cares I dont have a job. where the house is big and the air is cold and my friends are smart. 

I really miss Kristian. That was one of the greatest feelings of self love in my entire life. I felt like, if someone that special noticed ME. Saw ME. Little old, semi chubby, not famous ME, and wanted me around for a couple tour dates. Then I ought to believe in myself TOO. I wanted to dance, I wanted to make art, I wanted to take photos, I wanted to be bold, I wanted to be humble, I felt so open and content with myself. I was motivated to work out, I was motivated to eat healthy and clean and small portions. It was easy. It felt so fun. I loved him. I dreamt big. My imagination was so warm and excited. My inner critic was GONE. 

But he faded away. He got back with his ex. The shooting star left the sky. I’m still grateful for the experience at all, but. 

I feel a little stupid for thinking anything could’ve happened. 

And I truly miss feeling so special and excited about life. 

I dont want to run away from Austin out of fear. But I cant tell if I’m unhappy and want to leave genuinely, or if this is the spoiled part of me thats like, “this sucks, lets leave.” instead of pushing though, curating something better with some struggle, and sticking it out. 

How do people make big life decisions like this? I feel like thats what marriages do. People stay together and fight. But sometimes they get divorced anyways, its just been longer. More years wasted. When maybe it wouldve been healthier to leave sooner and cut the cord and be free to live without, sooner. 

I really like a lot of things about this city. But I really dislike a lot too. And I cant tell where I want my life to go, in a grand sense, so its hard to pick which attributes will matter in the long run. 

I dont think I should leave yet. Maybe a new house. Or like, serious efforts to declutter this one. Is this just excuses? Ugh. 

Declutter this house. If that doesnt feel better, leave the house and move to a new part of austin. If that doesnt feel better, leave austin. 

I need a job. 

[danfanciesphil]

Some Kind Of Folliful (New Chapter)

Edgelord!Dan x ObliviousBisexual!Phil AU [CHAPTER SIX] (based off the 80′s classic Some Kind of Wonderful)

Synopsis: Dan has one friend, and only because he was forced into it. Phil is loud, excitable, and irritatingly happy all of the time. Phil seems to find Dan’s perpetual attitude funny, and despite Dan’s best efforts to shun him and everyone else, wants to be around him all the time. That is, until Phil starts talking about Amanda Jones. Word Count: WIP (Estimated 12-15 chapters) updates every Tuesday Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smoking, swearing, implied prostitution, broken home, class divide/classism, pining, light homophobia, sex

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five]

[Ao3!]

Dan hates the closing shift.

Or rather, he hates it usually.

He hates the hour it takes to shut the café down after the last customer leaves. He hates having to clean the entire coffee machine inside and out. He hates the pressure of counting the money in the till, especially as he sucks at maths.

He hates having to wipe down every table and surface. He hates having to restock the milk in the fridge and the sugar on the counter. He loathes having to switch off every single light one by one, letting the shadows crawl out of their corners and smother the place. He usually does this final task at the last possible moment, so that he can just walk straight to the door and leave as soon as possible. The café, which is quite a sweet, pretty place with a soft, happy feel in the daytime, becomes something evil in the dark.

Tonight however, it’s not so bad. The late shift is given to Dan at least once a week, because he’s worked here a lot longer than most of the other staff, and so can be trusted. He’s done it so many times that he could do it blindfolded, he’s sure, so Louise allows him to do it on his own.

Tonight, he’s not on his own.

Phil walked to work with him today, and has stayed ever since. He has seemed perfectly content all evening, sat at a table for two in the corner by the window, drawing in his sketchpad. He’s ordered at least three coffees, which he’ll probably regret once he gets home and can’t sleep, but Dan isn’t going to lecture him again. The last customer left around twenty minutes ago, and Phil is still there, frowning down at whatever he’s sketching. Dan has just finished counting up, so he walks over to Phil’s table to collect the mug he’s been drinking from.

“You planning on sleeping here?” He asks, picking up the mug and saucer.

Phil looks up at him in surprise. “Oh, hey let me take that.”

Dan snorts at him. “It’s literally my job, Phil.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Dan walks away then, shaking his head fondly at Phil’s owlish protestations.

“Am I slowing you down?” Phil calls as Dan heads into the kitchen. “I can go if you like.”

“No, it’s fine,” Dan calls back, rinsing the crockery before stacking it into the dishwasher. “Just don’t make a mess.”

“It’s kind of creepy here after hours,” Phil says as Dan walks back out. “I don’t know how you do it all on your own.”

“I’m not on my own,” Dan counters.

There’s a hesitance on Phil’s face when Dan glances at him. “You think I’m nuts, don’t you? For going through with the date.”

Dan looks away, busying himself with stacking chairs. The scraping of the legs on the tiled floor makes him wince. “It’s certainly brave.”

Phil snorts. “Brave. Because you think it’s a joke. That she doesn’t actually like me, and that she’s doing it to get back at Hardy.”

A chair clatters from Dan’s hands, and he curses. Instead of picking it back up, he turns to Phil. “It might have crossed my mind.”

“I know that’s what everyone thinks,” Phil says, shrugging. “That she’s just using me. I get it. It’s ridiculous to think she’d actually consider me.”

“It’s got nothing to do with you, Phil,” Dan says quietly. “That’s just how they are in the Elite. They don’t think about the feelings of people like us. The only time they even acknowledge us is if we can benefit their lives in some way. Getting them coffee. Giving them lifts home. Making their boyfriend’s jealous.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Phil says dismissively, frowning in an uncharacteristic way. “I’m still gonna go through with it.”

Getting through to Phil is like trying to get through to the floor beneath his feet.

“Even if you know for sure that she’s stringing you along?” Dan asks, barely disguising his frustration. “Phil, that’s suicidal. If she’s purposefully dangling you in front of Hardy Jenns you’re gonna get your ass kicked.”

“If that’s her intention going in, that’s her problem. I’m gonna change her mind by the time the date is over,” Phil says confidently.

“Okay, now I do think you’re nuts,” Dan says.

He begins stacking the chairs again, loudly and with a recklessness that he wouldn’t normally. He should drop this, change the subject or something. But the irritation is overwhelming. Phil can’t see two feet under his nose. He’s being stubborn, because he feels he has to prove he can go through with this now, even though every star in the sky is screaming at him to turn back.

“I’ve thought about it a lot, Dan.”

“Oh, I can see that,” Dan says, rolling his eyes.

“I have,” Phil insists.  I think I can make her see that it’s better to be in the real world with the rest of us, rather than up in the clouds of the Elite. That she’d be happier without all the drama and the materialism and the seedy guys.”

Dan snorts. “How’re you gonna show her that, exactly? What’ve you got to offer her apart from a paintbrush and some overpriced jewellery? I mean, have you even properly kissed a girl?”

He doesn’t mean it to come out so harshly, but he’s angry, and his tongue doesn’t listen to him when he gets into a state. He shuts his eyes, placing the chair in his hands down.

“Sorry,” he says bitterly, “I didn’t mean-”

“No, you’re right,” Phil interrupts. He stands slowly from his chair and lifts it onto the table. “I’ve only ever kissed one person. It’s been worrying me a little, actually.”

Dan stares at him through the legs of several chairs, trying to think of something to say.

“You think Amanda would notice something like that?” Phil asks, meeting Dan’s eye. His raw, genuine concern is so obvious in his expression that Dan has to tear his gaze away.

“Maybe.” He can’t stop himself saying it, because it’s the truth. “Amanda Jones isn’t likely to be fooled by an amateur kiss, if you ask me. That babe’s got plenty of battle scars.”

Phil rolls his eyes at the wording, but catches hold of his lower lip between his teeth, worrying it to and fro. “You think?”

Dan nods slowly, leaning against an unstacked table for some support. Something about this conversation feels dangerous. Dan can feel his heart racing, his palms growing damp. He swallows thickly, mouth suddenly dry.

“Well, if you think you can deliver a kiss that kills, you probably can,” Dan says, one shoulder shrugging. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“No,” Phil says hurriedly, taking a step towards him. “I’m no expert.”

Dan stares at him.

“Well… it’s all about, like,” Dan flounders, feeling himself grow red. “Confidence.”

Phil ducks his chin towards his chest, then peers up at Dan, eyes sparkling with mischief. Before Dan can react, Phil’s closing the short distance between them in three long strides, pushing him up against the table behind him. Dan’s lungs seize up, but manages to gather himself enough to prevent himself from squealing at the unexpected attack.

“Like this?” Phil asks.

He’s smirking like it’s a stupid joke, but Dan’s breaths are still getting stuck in his throat. Dan rolls his eyes, but there’s no way Phil can’t hear the hammering of his heart.

“Yeah, just ram her up against the table,” Dan says, ever the sarcastic bitch. “She definitely won’t find that creepy.”

Phil snickers. “You seem to like it.”

“Fuck off.”

Instead of obeying Dan’s command, Phil seizes hold of him by the thighs and lifts him deftly onto the tabletop, slotting himself between Dan’s legs. At this point, Dan is sure he’ll combust, so he focuses all of his attention on the tasks he has left to do before locking up tonight. Mop the floor in the kitchen, put the float into the safe, kick Phil in the balls for being such a fucking tease…

“So, what next?”

Exasperated, Dan glares at him, struggling to break free of Phil’s hold. “Forget it, I did not sign up to be your snogging tutor.”

“Dan, I’m literally begging,” Phil says, letting slip a sudden flash of the insecurity lurking beneath his flirtatious demeanour. “I just need to know if I suck. I just need to be passable. You can help me, I know you can.”

Dan is far, far too soft, he thinks, melting immediately, of course. Any resistance he may once have had was dissolved a few nights ago, in Phil’s bed, when the realisation of his own feelings for the man avalanched down upon him. He’s been trapped underneath the debris of that revelation ever since, struggling to breathe, aching and tortured, awaiting rescue that won’t come.  

“Ugh, fine,” Dan says, as if it’s some huge inconvenience.

Phil’s hands release Dan’s thighs, clapping together in glee. “Thank you, Dan. I owe you.”

“At this point, your debt to me is higher than all of England.”

“Right, so what do I do now?”

Dan struggles to focus, but catches sight of Phil’s frantically fidgeting hands. He can start with that, at least. “What are you gonna do with your hands?”

Phil blinks at him, confused. “Uh, it- it depends-”

“No,” Dan tells him firmly. “It doesn’t depend. They go on my- on her hips.” He blushes, waiting for this to register, but Phil just stares.  “Do it, you pleb.”

Phil chuckles nervously, but reaches out to place his hands on Dan’s hips. They’re just resting there, light as anything, but the touch of him, light and warm, still makes Dan want to cry.

“Okay,” he chokes out. “She’ll um- she’ll probably do this.”

Dan stretches his own arms out, reaching up until he’s got them locked around Phil’s neck.

“Is that what you’d do?” Phil asks, his voice sounding strange and thin. “If I were- if it were you being kissed?”

Dan shrugs, disliking the question. “Prob’ly.”

Phil nods, drinking down the information like it’s gold. “Okay, what now?”

“So, close your eyes,” Dan instructs, and Phil does. He’s so passively beautiful. All pale skin and dark lashes. Dan is not in any way ready for what’s about to happen here. How the fuck did he get himself into this situation? “Now, lean in really close to me, but… don’t touch me yet.”

There’s no denying that at this point, self indulgence has come into play. Dan can’t bring himself to feel too bad about it. He’s never going to get an opportunity like this again, and in all likelihood Phil’s too clueless to cotton on to whether Dan might be a little biased in his instruction. Phil closes some of the distance between them, their lips close now; Dan tightens his lock around Phil’s neck. He smells like the caramel macchiatos Dan’s been making for him all evening.

He lets Phil wait for it. In Dan’s opinion, the best part about a kiss is the build up. It’s the space between them, humming with an electric yearning. It’s the eyes darting to one another’s mouths, and the slow, careful dance around the minefield of wrong moves as they work up to it.

“Okay,” Dan whispers, knowing his breath will sizzle against Phil’s lips. He feels Phil shiver, and it makes his stomach flip. “Now, open your eyes.”

Confused, Phil does as told. He seems a little stunned to see Dan up so close.

“Like this?”

Dan nods, their noses brushing. “Tell her something.”

Phil frowns. “Tell her what?”

“Whatever you want,” Dan near-whispers. For some reason, his eyes sting. He focuses them on Phil’s tongue as it sweeps over his lower lip. “Tell her she’s got pretty eyes, or she’s a hot babe. Whatever you want.”

“I’m not telling her she’s a hot babe,” Phil says, rolling his eyes. He seems a little pink-cheeked, though. “And I’m certainly not telling you you’re a hot babe.”

“So tell me something else, then,” Dan says before he can stop himself. “I mean, pretend I’m her. Amanda. And tell me what you want to tell me.”

“Pretend you’re her?” Phil asks, eyes roving over Dan’s face as though it’s an impossible feat.

“I know it’s a stretch Phil, but try it.”

Phil is silent, his lips pressing together as he surveys Dan, still so close that he’s probably all blurry in Phil’s vision anyway. Eventually, Dan kicks him.

“Come on,” he prompts, heart stuttering already.

His palms have gone past clammy into damp; he feels a bit dizzy, from the coffees he’s been drinking, and the cigarette he hasn’t had yet. This is something from his wildest, most surreal dreams, something he honestly never thought would happen, and here it is, right in front of him. He blinks, but it doesn’t go away. Phil is still so irresistibly close, the blue around his eyes thinned to a sliver, his heartbeat loud enough to hear.

“You’re the most beautiful thing…” Phil starts to say, his voice slow and quiet. “I have ever seen.”

Dan’s breath catches, and he feels his eyes sting again. He nods. “That’ll work.”

“Now what?” Phil asks.

“Now kiss me.”

Phil’s eyes widen, but he leans forwards readily. Dan’s breath hitches again, and he finds himself drawing back a little.

“Wait,” he says hurriedly. He fixes Phil with a hard stare, trying to appear as unaffected as possible. “If you stick your tongue in my mouth, I will bite it off, do you understand?”

Phil laughs, looking a little relieved, and nods. Then, the hands on his hips yank him forwards, and Dan is being kissed. Slowly at first, tentative and unsure, but then harder, hungrier, as though some levee inside of Phil has broken. His hands tighten on Dan’s hips, fingers pushing into Dan’s skin, so hard it could bruise.

Phil’s lips drag Dan’s apart; he flicks his tongue against Dan’s lip ring, then pushes it into Dan’s mouth, breaking the one, singular rule Dan had given him, but he finds he doesn’t even care. He never meant it anyway. He likes tongue. He would give anything not to know the taste of Phil’s, but only because he’ll never know it again.

He tastes like coffee, and caramel, and the bitter lead of his pencil when he licks the tip. Dan whimpers as these flavours unfurl across his taste buds; he pulls himself closer to Phil by the vice grip he has around his neck.

They kiss for what feels like hours, but it still isn’t enough. There’s a sudden vibration against his thigh, from what must be the phone in Phil’s pocket. Like a shock of icy water thrown in his face, he remembers the time. He remembers the day, his own name, his tragedy of a life, and more importantly, who Phil is thinking about right now.

Somehow, along with the surge of disgust for himself that rises like bile in his throat, Dan manages to summon the strength to unwind his arms from Phil’s neck and shove, hard, against his chest. Phil stumbles backwards, shocked, his lips wet and reddened. There’s an indent in their corner from where Dan’s lip ring has pressed into his flesh, and the sight of it is making Dan want to throw up.

“Fucking hell, Phil,” Dan pants, staring at him. Phil just stares, stunned, breathing heavily. “You don’t need lessons, okay? You’re fine.”

Dan swallows, hands braced against the table as he tries to gain some control. How did he just let that happen? He is so, so fucked.

“Sorry,” Phil says at last. “I… I don’t know what- you’re just so, um, pretty, and it was all nice and familiar- I guess I just… I got carried away.”

“Carried away,” Dan repeats with a humourless laugh, still breathless. “Just a little.”

Phil ducks his head, his cheeks a little flushed. “Thanks, though. For helping me.”

Dan shakes his head, barely able to believe his ears. He feels a rush of hot, stinging anger flooding his veins, and he glares at Phil, unable to suppress it.

“Sure. What else am I here for, anyway?”

“What?”

“About the only thing I’m good for, isn’t it?” Dan spits out. He stands from the table on jelly legs, untying his apron and yanking it off. “As the town whore, you might as well use me for practise.”

“Dan, what- that is not why I-”

“Save it,” Dan growls, stalking past Phil towards the kitchen.

He pushes through the door, trying to ignore that his throat feels like he’s swallowed a lump of burning hot coal.

“Dan, I didn’t mean to offend you, I’m sorry!” Phil calls from the café floor. Dan leans his head back against the kitchen door separating them, shutting his eyes. “I don’t know what happened, I just- fuck. Please don’t be annoyed.”

Dan bites down hard on his lip, hating that he can still taste Phil there, all sickly sweet syrup and a rich, malty aftertaste.

“Dan?” Phil calls out again. “Please talk to me.”

There’s a push from the other side of the door, jolting Dan forwards. He moves out of its path, letting Phil swing it open. He stands in the doorway, looking shame-faced.

“It’s fine,” Dan sighs, running a hand through his hair. “That… happened. Let’s just move the fuck on.”

Phil nods, still a little dazed. “Okay.”

Dan nods, brushing past him as he goes to finish closing up the café. Phil just watches him perform the medial little tasks that need doing with a glazed expression, looking like a lost child. Dan is about a hundred percent sure he missed something on his to-do list by the time he gets his jacket, but he can’t be bothered to check. Louise can yell at him, he doesn’t care.

“Come on,” Dan says to Phil, his voice gruff still.

He walks to the door, jingling the keys, and opens it for Phil to step out into the dark street. Dan switches all the lights off without looking back, and follows him outside to lock the doors.

“It’s raining,” Phil says, as if Dan hadn’t noticed the moisture pelting him from above.

“You don’t say,” Dan replies, turning the final lock.

“Can I come over?”

Dan freezes, trying not to react. He turns to Phil slowly, a frown creasing his brow. “Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Phil cocks his head like a spaniel. “Why?”

Dan purses his lips, looking up at the rainclouds, invisible in the dark. “Several reasons.”

He doesn’t mention that one of them is that he needs some time to privately flip the memory of Phil kissing him over and over in his mad, analytical brain until it’s wrung dry. He can already tell that that moment in time will forever be etched into his brain, just like his hips will always feel the ghost of Phil’s grip, and his lips… well. No other kiss will ever again mean anything, Dan is sure.

“It’s Prom tomorrow,” Phil says, his voice small. Dan rolls his eyes, wondering if Phil really thinks he could have forgotten when it’s literally all they’ve talked about for weeks. “You’re still gonna drive us, right?”

Dan sighs, desperately wishing he had enough spine to refuse right now. “Said I would, didn’t I?”

He stuffs the keys into his pocket, flicks up the hood of his jacket and starts walking down the street. Phil follows at his side, hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie. Silvery puffs of air escape from his mouth as he breathes; suddenly, Dan remembers his vice, digging into his back pocket. The packet’s a little damp, but he pulls a cigarette out with his teeth, uncaring.

“I just thought maybe you’d have changed your mind.”

Dan ducks into a doorway, lighting the end of his cigarette. They’re thin and black, these weird cherry flavoured ones, which is undeniably fitting to his aesthetic and mood. “And pass up three bags of Skittles? No way.”

He inhales, then continues walking, Phil still trudging along at his side. “So, I can come over, then?”

Dan rolls his eyes. “You’re literally following me home right now. It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

Phil says nothing, but when Dan sneaks a glance at his expression, misted from the rain, he’s smiling.

---

“Dan?”

The whisper filters through the filmy layer of Dan’s mind, hauling him out of the dream he was about to slip into.

“Dan, are you awake?” Phil’s voice sounds strange.

“Hm,” Dan says, stirring. “I am now.”

He opens his eyes crossly, irritated at being woken from what was sure to be a lovely, long sleep. The first thing he notices, even in the pitch black, is that Phil is very close to him. They’re sharing Dan’s single bed, so obviously their proximity is a little more than normal, but he’s shifted towards Dan’s side significantly.

Dan tries to put some distance back between them, but he’s got the wall behind him. He gives up, mind swirling in an attempt to distract himself from the fact that Phil is wearing his old Muse t-shirt and boxers, and is pressed almost against him, in his bed. Only hours ago, they’d been making out on a table in a closed cafe. Dan no longer feels very sleepy. Phil is staring straight at him, across the pillow. He’s chewing his lip, a worried crease between his brows.

“Wha’s the matter?” Dan asks sleepily. His heart races. “Did you hear Ricky come home?”

Phil shakes his head, and Dan’s lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Phil says quietly; Dan really wishes he hadn’t said it at all. “The kiss, I mean.”

Dan shrugs a shoulder. “S’okay.”

It isn’t, though. It’s far from okay, it’s made everything a hell of a lot worse, but Phil doesn’t know about Dan’s feelings, so it’s not all his fault. Phil’s hand slides onto his hip. It’s warm, and gripping a little too tightly to be normal. Dan stares at him, entirely lost on what’s happening.

“You smell like cherries again,” Phil tells him, so quiet it’s barely audible. “You taste like cherries, too.”

Dan has no idea what to say, but it turns out he needn’t bother. Phil shifts closer still, that hand on his hip gripping tighter, and then their lips are pressed together. Phil is purposeful, searching, kissing Dan with the same unexpected intensity that he had back in the café. For a fleeting second, Dan is able to hold onto his resistance. He remains rigid, certain that this is a mistake, that Phil is not in his right mind, and that he should not give in to it. But Phil is stubborn, he is patient, and desperate. The hand on his hip feels like a plea, and Dan could never resist Phil’s begging. So he gives in, falls into the welcome warmth of Phil’s wave of wanting. He kisses Phil like he’s starving, not concerned with breaking away this time because he initiated it, there are no ‘kissing lessons’ to disguise it. This is unprecedented, unprovoked, and entirely Phil’s decision.

The hand on Dan’s hip slips round to grab at his bum, mostly to pull their bodies closer together. Dan gasps, allowing his limp, exhausted body to mould itself around Phil’s chest and legs. He imagines the clothes gone, the warm, smooth skin of him beneath, and groans. He winds his hands into Phil’s t-shirt, feeling the heady arousal sweep from his lips, down his chest, and between his legs, leaving a flush in its wake.

Phil’s hand works its way between them, finding the telltale bump of Dan’s erection and pressing against it. Dan gasps, pulling back from the kiss to look into Phil’s eyes. He should say something, make sure Phil is really sure he wants to do this, but the words die with a firm push of Phil’s fingers. He rubs against Dan in soft, gentle movements, still above his boxers. It’s too teasing to be enough, but Dan shuts his eyes anyway, choking back a moan of bliss.

“Do you want me to stop?” Phil asks, his voice quiet and husky.

Dan’s eyes fly open, and he shakes his head. Phil doesn’t seem to need any further confirmation. He dips his hand into the waistband of Dan’s boxers, curling his fingers around the length of him. Dan chokes on something – the air, maybe – thrown by the confidence with which Phil moves considering this is, as far as Dan knows, his first time doing anything like this.

Dan’s never been particularly vocal in bed unless asked, so he just buries his face in Phil’s shoulder, whimpering as Phil’s hand pumps a steady rhythm around him, gradually becoming slicker, messier as the build of his orgasm drags over Dan’s body. Phil’s movements are unpracticed, his hand is at an awkward angle, and he hasn’t even pulled Dan’s boxers down, but somehow it’s beyond incredible.

Dan comes hard, unable to stop himself crying out as Phil sinks his teeth into the exposed skin of his neck, sucking a mark there. He shudders as the pleasure ebbs away, going limp in Phil’s arms. Phil pulls his hand out from Dan’s boxers, wiping it on the Muse logo. A few seconds of stunned silence pass in the wake of what just occurred, and then Dan moves, jumping to attention like a soldier going about his routine. He pushes his lips back into Phil’s, just as hungry as before, and slides a hand down his torso, from collarbone to groin.

Phil catches hold of his wrist.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Phil says hurriedly. Through the Muse t-shirt, Dan can feel his heart pounding.

He stares at Phil, confused. “Let me… help you out.”

Phil smiles at him, though it seems a bit strained. “I’m fine, really. Let’s just go to sleep, yeah?”

Dan scans his face, trying to suss out why on earth somebody would refuse a return offer in this situation, but he comes up short. Hey, maybe Phil is just a little strange. Maybe his first time nerves kicked in a little later than expected.

“Are you sure?” Dan asks. His tongue flicks out to play with his lip ring, flirtatious. “I don’t mind, you know.”

Phil’s gaze hones in on the lip ring, and he swallows thickly. “Y-yeah, really. I’m just tired. Sleep.”

Reluctantly, Dan shuffles down, getting comfy again. It’s difficult, because he’d ideally like a shower right now, preferably one with Phil, but it’s obviously not going to happen, so Dan’s gonna just have to suck it up. But not literally, apparently.

“Okay,” Dan says after some thought. He shuffles closer to Phil, a warm and hopeful glow pulsating in his gut for the first time in years. “Goodnight.”

There’s a long time before Phil replies.

“Night.”

(Chapter Seven!)

[sorrowsflower]

The Choices Made (Adlock)

Set at the end of The Reichenbach Fall

Motherhood had never been part of the Woman's plan.

For most of her life, she had been focused on survival and domination, and she had pursued both with a reckless frivolity that burned everyone in her path. None of these things were conducive to raising a child.

Her first discovery of the new little parasite she was incubating was not a joyous moment, as it was for some women. 

Her initial reaction was of shock, because she had always been very careful. Meticulous to the point of obsession. Though her work as a dominatrix never involved actual sexual intercourse, she'd had her own set of lovers, both male and female, prior to her acquaintance with a certain consulting detective, and protection was paramount to her.

It must be a mistake. A false positive.

But before the opportunity to analyze how, and which, bout of sexual activity with said detective -- it had to be Sherlock's; all her other recent lovers had been female -- had resulted in this little inconvenience, the dread settled in. 

It was not dissimilar to a wall of rain come crashing suddenly down on her head, invoking a long-forgotten childhood memory of watching little cartoon figures with black clouds above their heads.

Dear God, she was thinking of cartoons. It was already starting.

She drew a deep breath. That felt a little better. 

Perhaps this was not the black cloud she was imagining it to be. Hell, she wasn't even sure if she really was pregnant.

The dread lifted somewhat, eased by practical thought into a small niggling at the back of her head that could be easily ignored. Tomorrow, she would go to the doctor. Just to make sure.

...

Tomorrow, however, did not bring the fair weather report she had been expecting. The moment the doctor walked in with the results, she had known even before the other woman had opened her mouth.

"Congratula--!"

The Woman held up a hand. She didn't even want to hear it. The dread, which until then had been at the back of her mind, came to the foreground and threatened to take over.

But she was the Woman. She was not given to emotion or sentiment. She had already allowed emotion to take over once, and look where that had gotten her -- sitting in a clinic with a foolishly smiling doctor offering her congratulations.

Her brain immediately went into damage control, as it always did when confronted with a crisis. Find the root of the problem, and fix it. 

She quickly went over her upcoming calendar in her mind, and without letting the doctor start a spiel on -- God, she didn't even want to use the word -- pregnancy and pre-natal care, she cut the doctor off with a cold, professional hand and set up an appointment.

The doctor tried to argue, to offer other options, but she was stopped by the calm look on the Woman's face. There was no confusion, emotional turmoil or hysteria there. Only calm decisiveness. She had made her choice.

The appointment was made.

...

There were no major changes to the Woman's routine. At least not at first. No specific alterations or concessions made for the developing creature inside her, except maybe her morning routine was altered to compensate for the absolutely horrid morning sickness.

Then the "morning" sickness turned into "morning to noon" sickness. But still, it wasn't that bad. She had always been good at concealing physical ailments. And tea helped.

But when it quickly became "the whole fucking day" sickness, she had to admit, it was harder to conceal. The tea, which was now unpalatable, no longer helped. She had to scale down on her clients, and cancel various appointments because now she just felt violently ill all the time.

She abhorred it. The wretched nausea, the sweating, the heaving and dry-heaving, the dizzy spells and light-headedness, the weakness. It was all so distasteful, especially for someone who had been so meticulous about her body, and so immaculate in appearance. 

Pain she could handle -- she was a dominatrix, after all; pain was her bread and butter -- but this prolonged, ever-present discomfort was threatening to undo her. That, and the lack of control over her own body, which before had been a beautiful weapon for her.

Still, she took comfort in the fact that this would all be over soon, and she could return to her normal (if it could be called that) life.

...

Three days before her appointment, an article appeared on the British news website she frequently monitored. 

SUICIDE OF FAKE GENIUS

It was accompanied by a photograph of a man in a dark Belstaff coat and a blue scarf lying on the street, face intentionally obscured to spare the readers the man's gruesome, bloody death. But even through the blurring, the vivid red bloodstains on the man's face and on the street he had landed on were evident.

The bile that she had been suppressing all day rose to the back of her throat, and she had to look away to keep from being sick. 

She slammed the laptop shut and tried to breathe.

It took her several long, shaky minutes, but the nausea eventually subsided. Enough, at least, for her to be able to pick up the phone and place some calls. Half an hour later, she was feeling slightly better (physically, anyway), the story was confirmed, and she received an unobscured copy of the photograph.

The nausea threatened to come up again, but she tamped it down with a deep breath, and analyzed the picture as logically and impartially as possible.

It seemed genuine.

The blood was real, and though there was no way to be sure until her contacts at the morgue confirmed it, she would venture a guess and say that it was his. The face, covered as it was with blood, closely resembled his as well. 

But she, of all people, knew how easy it was to fool someone with a pretty face.

And she had seen his work, too. She had seen the cleverly-edited video of her own "execution" that had made its way into Mycroft Holmes's hands. As loathe as she was to admit it, if she wasn't alive and whole -- and now currently carrying evidence inside her body that would absolutely refute her death in Karachi -- she probably would have been fooled by it too if it had been her.

It wasn't real.

It couldn't be. He was too clever, too good of an opponent to die. True, he had a certain self-destructive streak, but there was no way someone as arrogant as he was would ever commit suicide. And certainly not for something they both knew was a lie.

That thought helped her calm down and settled her nerves.

All she had to do now was wait for the video to prove it.

Fifteen minutes later, the email arrived, and she opened the file. The angle of the video was limited to Sherlock alone, as her contact had been focusing on him, and the sound was less than ideal, but it was clear enough that the detective on the roof was speaking to John Watson, unseen, on the street. She could hear Sherlock confessing to the lie the press and the British public had been fed. 

Rich Brook. Reichenbach. 

They both knew it wasn't true. She, herself, was evidence that it was a lie. And yet, here he was, extolling the opposite to John Watson.

"Keep your eyes on me."

That immediately raised a flag. A magician directing the audience to the illusion and away from the trick. The Woman examined the video intently, trying to spot any discrepancies.

And that was when she saw it. 

A glint of sunlight from the roof a few buildings to the right. It only appeared as Sherlock said "Goodbye, John" and hung up the phone.

Before he dropped the phone and jumped, disappearing from her contact's view and the camera's.

Frustrated, and though she would never admit it to herself, more than a little shaken, she played the video again, to the part of the timeframe where she saw the glint of sunlight. She knew what that was.

The reflection from a rifle's scope, revealed only at the last minute before the shot. A shot that Sherlock Holmes's apparent death had prevented.

A sniper.

And it wasn't pointed at Sherlock.

And then she understood.

Sherlock, despite all his arguments to the contrary, was an irrationally sentimental being. He formed emotional attachments to people. 

While between the two of them, the Woman was more attuned to people, it was Sherlock who actually cared for them. When she had been exposed, it was only too easy for the Woman to abandon all ties, including her loyal Kate, and leave her former life. 

Sherlock, on the other hand... He had a whole brood of people he surrounded himself with. The doctor, his landlady, his brother, the detective inspector, his mousy little pathologist. 

If an instance occurred where he was required to give up his life for the few people he cared about, especially if it included John Watson, she had no doubt the idiot would actually do it. Hadn't he already infiltrated one of the most dangerous terrorist cells in Asia to save her life?

Foolish, foolish man.

She stopped the video and closed the laptop.

...

The day of the appointment came. And went.

She stayed home, phone in hand.

It never rang.

_______________

By SorrowsFlower

Yeah, okay, so I made this on one of those “writing game” sites where you “fight” a monster by completing x-amount of words in the allotted time. So my lazy ass didn’t edit, proofread or research any of this stuff like I normally would have.